Chapter 8Monroe
8
Monroe
Z ane lights a cigar as we cruise down the little winding road out of my neighborhood. Smoke plumes around his face, masking his expression, but it also hides his eyes from me. I can observe him more carefully before he sees where I’m looking.
My curious eyes travel over his torso, and I’m impressed again by the broadness of his chest. He’s so muscular, almost professionally so, which makes him bulky without having any extra fat tucked away. I keep looking around for it, at his thighs and midsection, but there’s only muscle. I can even see the outline of his abs a bit as he adjusts his posture.
The cigar smoke wafts into my nostrils, and it doesn't smell awful like the cigarillos people outside the gas station people are always smoking. It's much more pleasant, rich and fragrant, like a woody forest in the springtime.
Zane turns his head, blowing a puff of smoke toward the window, and that's when I realize I've been staring for too long. My cheeks flush as I try to come up with a reason to explain my actions, but there isn't one.
I shouldn't find this man attractive. He's dangerous, and he's holding me captive.
And yet, I can't help but wonder what might happen between us. He hasn't threatened to kill me since we've gotten into the car, and I'm frightfully aware of how much of his side is pressed against mine. He doesn't have to be this close, but he is. I feel like he's going to place his hand on my thigh at any moment, and then I won't know what to do. Would I slap him or simply relent to his power?
My thoughts are a jumbled mess. I can't believe what's happened today. I'm so lucky to be alive.
"Are you comfortable?" Zane asks, glancing over at me.
I look up at him, startled by his sudden question. "As comfortable as I can be, considering I'm a prisoner."
He chuckles. "I wouldn't call you a prisoner, darling."
"I would."
"Fine," he growls, taking a deep drag of his cigar. "Be that way. I'll call you a prisoner if you want. But at least I'm not letting you rot in some jail cell while we figure this all out. You should thank me for what I've done for you. Maksim would've killed you. I have allowed you to continue existing."
"Oh, yes," I snap. "Thank you so much. I wouldn't want to fall into the hands of the wrong bad guy. You're the good bad guy, though, right?"
Zane smiles. "I like your sarcasm, darling."
I glare at him, crossing my arms.
"You're a smart one. A smart ass, I should say," he teases. "But seriously, you can trust me. You won't come to any harm with me, provided you tell me everything. I can make things very good for you. I will show you what I mean when we get to my house."
"I thought you said you were taking me to your office."
"I am, but first I want to process you."
"What does that mean?" I ask, my heart leaping into my throat.
A smirk pulls up one side of his mouth, and he takes a few more puffs from his cigar before answering. "You'll see, darling. Don't worry your pretty little head about it."
I roll my eyes and turn away from him.
"Look at me," he says.
I obey, but not without a huff.
"Do you like the cigar?" he asks. "It's Cuban. Very expensive. They don't allow them in the States."
I shrug. "I wouldn't know. Never had one."
"You never had one? I'll change that," he says, reaching into his jacket and producing another, which he promptly lights with a match.
The tip glows a bright orange before he blows out the flame and hands it to me. "Don't worry. It's not like cigarettes. It won't kill you. I think you'll like it. Just be careful not to inhale too hard."
"If you say so," I reply, hesitantly accepting the cigar. I feel like I should just play along with him, as long as he's not trying to get me to do anything dangerous. Getting on his good side is going to save me a lot of misery later on. Besides, he seems to enjoy the banter a little too much. I don't want him to get the idea that I'm secretly flirting with him.
I lift the cigar to my lips and take a quick puff, immediately regretting it.
"That was a weak puff," Zane says, laughing. "Put your mouth around it like this."
He demonstrates, and the tip of the cigar turns a bright shade of orange as he sucks on it. Then, he lifts his head and lets out a stream of smoke, his face illuminated by the glowing ember.
"Like that," he says. "Not too hard. Just suck on it a bit."
I take a second, more tentative puff, and it goes a lot smoother this time. The taste isn't awful, and the sensation is nice. It's not like a cigarette, and the smell is far more pleasant.
"There you go," Zane purrs. "Wrap those lips around it nice and tight. Don't waste any of the smoke. Taste it on your tongue. Enjoy it."
His words are laced with sexual innuendos, and I know exactly what he's doing. He's teasing me, trying to get me flustered so I won't be able to resist him. I'm not stupid. I'm not going to fall for it.
Even if I might not hate the taste of the cigar, and the heat from the smoke as it slides into my mouth, and the way his eyes light up when he watches me.
"See, you like it," Zane says. "And we're just getting started."
Kiro laughs from the front seat, and I suddenly feel embarrassed.
I hand the cigar back to Zane. "I'd rather not have this."
He shakes his head. "Oh no, darling. Keep it. We have more."
I sigh, looking away. I can't believe this is happening. How did my quiet little life turn into this?
The rest of the car ride is quiet. Zane doesn't try to start a conversation again. Maybe he realizes I'm not in the mood, or maybe he's too busy thinking about what's going to happen when we arrive. My stomach twists into a tight knot as I try to anticipate the next phase of this horrible day.
We pull into the parking garage of a tall building, and then we climb out of the car. The building is much nicer than I had anticipated, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. The car we came in was nothing like anything I’ve ridden in before. Whatever it is that Zane does, it obviously makes him a lot of money.
“No use in running, by the way,” Zane says as he puts his hand around my waist again. “There’s nowhere to go where my men won’t find you. In fact, that would be the best outcome if you decided to book it. With Maksim out on the prowl, you’re not safe anywhere but with me.”
I hate to admit that he’s right, so I remain silent, allowing him to escort me to an elevator and ride up into the building. Kiro gets out on the second floor, but Zane and I keep going up until we reach the top floor.
“My private office,” Zane says as the elevator door rolls open.
I walk down a long hallway with him, arriving at his office. As we step inside, I’m met by the smell of cedar and cigar smoke, intertwined with old leather and a chemically smell that reminds me of getting my oil changed at the mechanic. It’s something to do with guns, I assume. There are several of them mounted on the wall, various rifles and a black shotgun.
“Welcome to my private domain. There are no cameras here, no microphones, and nobody can hear what happens from outside this office. You’re sealed off from the rest of the world,” Zane says, waving vaguely around his office.
I don’t know whether to find that comforting or terrifying. I think I’d rather have people know where I am and what I’m doing, but Zane takes the opposite stance. He wants everything to stay as private as possible.
Lucky for him, he’s going to get his way. I have nobody. I have nothing. I’m about as private of a person as he could’ve chosen to kidnap.
“What I need you to do now is remove all of your clothing,” Zane says.