Chapter 16Zane
16
Zane
T here’s nothing that can be done at this point. Both of us know it, but that doesn’t stop the whirlwind of anger from being directed at me. It’s not as though I’m the one who set the house on fire, but Monroe doesn’t care. She only sees her life burning in front of her eyes, and I’m the one with the match in my hand.
“What the fuck, Zane,” she screams so loud my ears ring.
I recoil as I stop the car in front of the burning house. It’s already so engulfed in flames that it barely resembles a building anymore. It’s more like a giant bonfire, melting the paneling off the side of the house next to it.
I can feel the heat from inside the car, but the fury coming from Monroe is even hotter. She grabs my arm, her nails sinking into my skin as she stares daggers at me. “What did you do to my house?”
“You think I did this?” I ask with a bitter laugh, jerking my arm away. “Get real. Obviously, it was Maksim. He’s out to get both of us, and he’s reckless about it, too. He’s always been that way.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh yes, sure, blame it all on Maksim. That’s awfully convenient, now, isn’t it?”
I sigh, running my hands over my face and leaning back against the seat. Kiro's car is parked just a few meters down from ours, and there's a group of men already standing by the house.
It does look like I'm the one behind this, but I had nothing to do with it. I'm certain it was Maksim, taunting me with a fire because he knows my family history. He's trying to hit me where it hurts, but I don't feel pain anymore. All I feel is anger for what he's done to my precious Monroe.
She looks out the window, tears streaking down her face as she watches the fire. Her hands are balled into fists, and she's trembling. It's a heartbreaking scene, but I don't know how to console her.
"I'm sorry, Monroe," I whisper, putting my hand on her shoulder. "I'm going to make sure Maksim pays for this."
"Sure you and your Bratva buddies. I believe you," she replies sarcastically.
I clench my jaw, letting out a long sigh through my teeth. There's no getting through to her. She's in shock. I can't blame her, but she's lashing out at the wrong person.
"Kiro," I call out, getting out of the car and slamming the door shut. I walk toward him, and he turns to face me.
"What the hell happened?" I ask, glancing over at the house.
"Maksim's men did it, we assume," Kiro replies. "We arrived here shortly before the two of you. There's not much more to say about it, honestly. We can't save the house."
"It's fine. She'll be fine," I mutter, looking back at the car.
Monroe is sitting in the passenger seat, her head leaned back against the headrest. Her eyes are closed, but she's no longer crying. She looks angry again, trying to hold it all in to unleash upon me when I return to the car. I'm almost scared to go back.
Her eyes flutter open, and she looks right at me. "Who's going to pay for the damage?" she yells through the windshield.
I shake my head, looking back at Kiro. "We'll need to keep an eye on her. I'm keeping her at my estate for the time being. I doubt we're going to get any information out of her for a while. Not after this ordeal."
Kiro gives me a doubtful look, glancing back at the car. "Sir, respectfully, there are ways of getting information out of people."
I grab him, anger surging through me. My fingers curl around his shirt collar, and I pull him so close that our noses touch. "What exactly are you suggesting?" I growl. "Monroe is a human being, not one of Maksim's lowlife minions. You will treat her with respect. I will not hear a single word otherwise."
Kiro raises his eyebrows, obviously surprised by my sudden burst of emotion. "Yes, sir," he says, swallowing hard.
"I'm sorry," I say, releasing his shirt. "I'm just... frustrated. I'm allowed to have feelings about this. There's a lot on the line."
"Of course," he agrees, but he looks supremely uncomfortable, like he witnessed something he knows he wasn't supposed to.
"I'm going to take her home," I continue, ignoring the awkwardness. "Keep an eye on Maksim, and let me know if you hear anything. This is going to end very soon. He's not going to et away with this garbage. Not on my watch."
Kiro nods, looking away. "Yes, sir."
I leave him behind, walking back to the car and opening the door. Monroe refuses to move, staring straight ahead and refusing to acknowledge my presence.
"We're going to go back to my house, darling," I say gently, placing my hand on her thigh.
"Don't call me that," she hisses.
I pull my hand back, a strange feeling of emptiness creeping up on me. I've never felt like this before, and I don't know how to handle it. It would be easier for me to be angry at her, just like I'm angry at Maksim, but she hasn't done anything wrong. She's just a woman stuck in the wrong place at the wrong time, and things just keep getting worse for her.
I don't want to make them worse. In fact, it's the exact opposite. I want to make things better, but I don't know how. If she's not going to listen to me, and I can't use physical force, then what the hell am I supposed to do?
I turn the car back on, pulling out onto the road. There are sirens in the distance, the fire trucks and cops arriving much to late to fix anything. That's always how it is, in my experience. They come to clean up the mess, not to prevent anything.
I glance at Monroe, hoping to see some semblance of emotion on her face. She's blank, her eyes locked onto the road.
"Are you alright?" I ask.
"What does it matter? What's done is done. You don't have to pretend like you care anymore," she replies.
I grit my teeth. She's got the wrong idea, and it's starting to frustrate me. Taking my anger out on her would be a mistake, but it's tempting. If she's the bad guy, then that means I don't have to feel so guilty about everything that happens to her. I can tuck those emotions away somewhere they won't bother me again.
That's not what I want, though. I want to hold her, to comfort her. I want her to know that I'm here for her, but she won't allow it.
"Look," I say, trying to sound sympathetic, "I understand that you're upset, but--"
"No," she interrupts. "You don't. You're not capable of understanding. You can't relate to this kind of thing, and you never will."
Her words hit home, and they hurt. She doesn't realize how close all this hits home to me, how Maksim specifically chose this method of warfare to mess with my head. He wants to destabilize me so that he can take everything for himself. Somehow, he's even managed to turn Monroe against me.
The car falls silent again, and the drive back to my house feels like an eternity. When we finally arrive, I park the car in the driveway and get out, slamming the door. Monroe does the same, rushing ahead of me and heading straight to the door.
I watch her from behind, her hair flowing in the breeze. She's so beautiful, and I hate seeing her like this. It hurts, and I've never hurt like this before. It's unfamiliar and unwanted, and it's starting to consume me. I need to let off some steam, and there's only one way I know how that's not going to ruin everything for both of us.
"Go to the bedroom," I growl as she flings the front door open.
"Fuck off," she snarls, charging into the house.
I thinks he deserves a spanking for that one. I'm used to being disrespected by my enemies, but to have someone living under my roof throwing those types of insults at me is too much. She needs to learn that she doesn't get to misbehave just because things are hard for her. It's time I put her in her place.
She tries to hurry past me, but I grab her wrist, tugging her back. She gasps, looking up at me with pure hatred. "Let go," she hisses.
I drag her to the couch, sitting down and pulling her over my knee. She squirms and fights, but I'm much stronger than her. SHe's not going to be able to escape, but I also think she doesn't want to. If she did, she'd be fighting a lot harder.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she yells, her voice breaking.
I put a hand on the small of her back to hold her in place, my bulge pressing up into her belly. God, she feels so good against me. It's been less than twenty-four hours, and I already crave her like I've never had her before.
I yank down her jeans, feeling the softness of her bare ass. She's wearing a thong because that's the only thing I bought for her. I won't have her covering that perfect little butt. I want it exposed and ready to be spanked any time. choose to pull down her pants or lift up her skirt. I'm in control.
"Are you really going to spank me?" she asks, looking back at me with flushed cheeks and a deep scowl.
I chuckle. "Don't you think you deserve it?"
"For what?" she asks, her voice taking on a much brattier tone than usual. She's leaning into this, playing it up to make me want to punish her more. I know right then and there that she wants this just as much as I do. It's our way of making up and pretending we still hate each other.
"You've been a bad girl," I say, rubbing her ass. "And I think it's time that I punished you."
"Go ahead," she replies with a devilish smirk. She wiggles her ass, her body moving against my aching erection. "Take your best shot."
My palm strikes her bottom, and she yelps, squirming in my lap even more. "If you don't stop fighting, I'll spank you harder," I warn, slapping her bottom again.
She moans, her body trembling. "Then spank me harder. Make me forget about how you ruined my life."
I groan, running my fingers over her skin. She's so soft, and her skin is turning pink where I've hit her. Her body is reacting well, and I'm tempted to slide my fingers between her thighs to see just how wet she is.
I pull my hand back, spanking her again. She moans again, burying her face in the couch cushion.
"You're loving this, aren't you?" I ask, my cock growing harder and harder.
"So are you," she replies, pushing back against me.
"Damn right," I mutter. "You're making me want to blow my load all over your belly."
"Blow it in my mouth," she challenges. "No risk and no mess."
I can't argue with that logic. I pull her off my lap, standing up and pressing her to the ground. She lands on her knees, scooting up to me and clawing at my pants. She yanks them down, and my cock springs free. It's rock hard. She wraps her lips around it, sucking gently. It feels like heaven even though I don't deserve any of it.
"God, yes," I groan, running my fingers through her hair. "Suck my cock, Monroe. Make me cum."
"Yes, sir," she says, taking my length deeper into her throat.
She doesn't seem afraid of me anymore, but she is still angry. I can tell by the way she grabs my balls and pulls on them just a little too hard. Her fingernails dig into my skin, and she looks up at me with a smirk.
I'm not complaining, though. The pain only intensifies the pleasure, and I find myself enjoying her roughness. Besides, nothing can really hurt me the way I've been hurt in the past. Emotional damage leaves much deeper wounds. The ones on my skin are nothing compared to the ones that haunt my dreams.
I close my eyes, letting her suck and slurp my cock. It's the most incredible thing I've ever felt, and I'm sure she knows it. She takes pride in what she's doing, quickly forgetting about her anger and focusing more on making me cum.
I let out a deep breath, feeling my orgasm building. She can sense it, too, and she starts to suck faster. I'm not going to be able to hold it back much longer. Everything inside me is coming to a head, and all the tension in my body is beginning to unravel. Wave after wave of pure, unrelenting bliss flow through me, and my mind goes blank.
When I finally finish, I grab the back of the couch for balance. Monroe keeps sucking, milking every last drop of cum from my cock. It's like she's trying to kill me.
"Jesus Christ, woman," I moan, running my hands through my hair.
"Good?" she asks, wiping her mouth and giving me a devious little smile.
"You have no idea," I say, pulling her to her feet.
I pull her jeans and panties down her legs, grabbing her hips and sitting back on the couch. She straddles my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck and resting her head against my shoulder. I hold her tightly, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply.
She smells like heaven, her sweet scent mixing with the aroma of her arousal.
"You're soaking wet," I whisper, running my hand up her thigh to her pussy. The juices are rolling down her legs, unable to be kept at bay any longer. Her body is speaking to me, begging for more.
"It's your fault," she replies, kissing my neck.
I chuckle, pressing my lips to hers. Her mouth opens, and her tongue slips into mine. We kiss slowly and passionately, our bodies pressed together. It's intimate, something I didn't expect from her. She should be a lot angrier at me than she is right now.
I break the kiss, pulling her back. "Are you not angry at me anymore?"
She looks down at her lap, a pensive expression on her face. "No, I am. But you're so irresistible, it's hard for me to stay mad at you. I don't want you taking advantage of that, but it's the truth."
I smile, putting my hand on her cheek. "I'm going to protect you, even if you're mad at me. Maksim is going to die for what he's done, mark my words."
"I don't want any more of this violence," she says, a hint of fear in her eyes.
I stroke her cheek. "Then let's make love instead."