***LONDON’S POV***
I can’t continue fighting Zane on his need to talk to me, but I spend most of the morning in bed.
When my stomach grumbles, I slide out of the bed and into the bathroom, cleaning myself up. I make sure to bathe and brush my teeth before heading downstairs in a mini-robe I choose to wear.
Zane is working on his phone and I remember briefly that I need to check mine. I make a mental note to go through it discreetly later.
“Good morning,” I mouth as I walk into the kitchen, avoiding his burning gaze on my skin.
I don’t want to think that he has an added advantage over me.
I see a covered plate of food and I open it. Pancakes and eggs are there. I go for a glass of Apple juice and eat till a bite can’t get into my mouth again.
After trying my best to relax, I cleaned the plates I had eaten and made sure the kitchen surface area was clean. Walking out of a kitchen, for the first time, I catch a glimpse of Zane and those big hooded eyes of his are on me.
“Get a sit, London, we need to talk,” he tells me.
His stance is one of me not daring him.
I want to do that so badly, challenge the fuck out of him, but I cringe, waiting for him to make the first move.
“What do we need to talk about? I want to go arrange my clothes,” I say.
That isn’t true, Daddy Zane always makes sure he folds my clothes and puts the clean ones in the closet and the dirty ones in the dirty basket. I am just acting naughty now.
“Get a fucking sit, little girl,” Zane grinds on every letter he pronounces, and a full body shiver runs down my spine.
Nodding, I make it to the chair and slip into it.
“What?” I blurt out arrogantly.
I want to still have some spite in me, I need Zane to know I have control here even though I sat down. He isn’t going to control me any further than he is already.
“We were having a chat last night and before you bring up that shit on you don’t want me in your life, London, I am your fucking husband, now, cut the crap,” he warns.
I straighten my stance on the chair, making my back as straight as a sharp knife and my eyes pierce daggers at him.
“Continue with the boring lecture,” I snort out, rolling my eyes.
Zane doesn’t make a move, he doesn’t even act affected by my boldness lately. It makes my body tremble, I want to know more as well.
“Why don’t we start from who called you and who you were with yesterday that prompted you to go through my things and steal my car keys,” he says.
I gasp. If Zane knows these petite details, it means the fucker went through my phone, I can’t help the fear that grips through my heart.
“Searching through my phone is illegal. What? Because we tied the knot doesn’t mean you can control me like that,” I say, anger pulsing through me.
“That doesn’t answer any of my questions,” he tells me.
I take a moment to calm my racing heart, I need it so badly, especially when I know Zane would be more than mad at me if he found out who I was with yesterday.
I have seen the things he has done to Michael, what will he do after our encounter? I wonder.
“I wanted to get some gallons of milk for you, for us. What we had at home was finished,” I explain.
“I saw you pouring everything down the sink, you bloody liar,” he calls out at me.
I hold my heart, feeling like this man calling me a liar is the most deserved lie of all history, still, I still hold on to him like I can’t resist the truth.
“You weren’t going to buy some, like I said, they had expired,” I lie again through my teeth.
Zane was done with me lying because he strides across me and pulls me up by the wrist. When I stand, he wraps his hand around my neck, pulling me close to him.
The big beast could snap my neck without even trying hard, but he cautiously pulled me close to his chest, stopping only a few feet away.
“As my little girl, you don’t fucking lie to me, ever,” he grits out the word, applying light pressure on me.
I know he is going to toy with me until I can get a grasp of the shit I am spilling out of my mouth.
“As my daddy, you don’t choke me with your fucking hands,” I tell him fighting back the tears willing to pool down my cheeks.
I have to stay strong, to act strong. I know I am failing woefully, but damn it, this man makes me so weak.
“London, the last time I checked, you didn’t know how to drive, you wanted to fucking kill yourself? You already damaged the car…” he barks at me and I cut him off.
“Which happens to be the only thing that interests you now. Your bloody car. I used it, yes, and I also damaged it. I am sorry,” I tell him.
I know I don’t have my permit, but I do know basic things about a car, the crap aside that the truck is massive.
“I rode the car and the police didn’t pull me aside,” I tell him.
“They could have, London, did you think about that?” he shoots out.
His eyes were on me, roaming through my skin, making me know that he was checking me out. And then, his eyes were still on my arms.
Slowly, I follow his eye and it lands on the red fingerprints on my arm.
Michael. Fuck it. I had planned to hide it with oversized clothes, but today was really warm, and I couldn’t resist it.
“What the fuck, London? Who did that to you?” he asks, the grip on his neck going instantly soft.
“No one. Remember I went for milk?” I tell him staggering back to my seat, my cheat trying hard to pump air for me.
I see his face thicken with a shadow, Zane becomes the most dangerous version of himself I have ever known, I wish I had not lied to him, but I have created a web of lies and it isn’t successful.
“Milk jugs don’t have hands to hold you. Tell me who did,” he says pumping his fist in the other, anger seething through him.
I advert my eyes from him.
Nothing to be said, maybe if I shut up, this whole saga will pass. I just hope so.
“Tell me, London,” he urges.
“I don’t know what you are talking about. And for the record, stop going through my things, Zane. Don’t touch my clothes, and especially not my phone. Whatever you are finding there, you wouldn’t see it,” I bite out.
This is just me bluffing, thinking this will remove some steams out of my skin, that shit wouldn’t work, hell no! It fucking wouldn’t work.
I watch him walk to the table where my phone is, when Zane comes back to me, he hands me the phone. I hesitate to take it, but then, I do, and I see the message there.
I read it twice before knowing who had done so.
Michael. He even called my name and added baby behind. Jesus Fuck! I sure as hell haven’t planned on eloping with him, but after being exposed like this, Zane wouldn’t take it lightly on me.
“I see the guilt on your face, London, and unless you want us to take this to a higher level, you will give me the answers I demand now,” he mutters.
His face is red, his shoulders straighter than ever, I should be freaking scared of this man, just like I am, but I bite the dust and wait for the worst.
“Who hurt you, little human?” he inquires.
I decline with a shake of my head.
I know this time I have pushed Zane towards the wall so far. In an instant, he is sweeping me off the chair and pushing me over the high table, flattening my body on the chair and making my bottoms heat as it is in the air.
He tears my shorts and grabbing his belt, he holds it firmly, tying my hands with it.
I don’t say anything. If the brute of a man is going to punish me, I swear, the least I can do is make a sound. I don’t want to give him a chance at knowing this shit affects me.
He grabs a wooden spatula, this one has a cup edge at the end and I shiver. It is longer and bigger, I know I am in for a ride.
“When you are ready to speak, I will end the strokes,” he tells me.
I know this will go on forever if I don’t put a stop to it, I can’t feel my stomach pressing on the table, and as if noticing my discomfort, Zane arranges me, giving way for my belly to breathe.
Tears roll down my eyes as the strokes start coming.
Zane goes on hitting me. He knows I will soon break, I don’t have a point to prove, but I wouldn’t crack either.
“Who the fuck were you with, London? We can end this now, or I can continue going,” he says smacking my ass five times in a roll.
I part my lips to a scream, I feel my eyes shutting as tears come in.
When Zane starts smacking me constantly, under my thighs and that is where my weak point is.
I yell out in pain, and he stops, giving me enough space to catch my breath. I want to rub my butts so badly, but I wouldn’t be doing that because Zane’s arms are on my back, holding me down.
“Say the word, London, we don’t have to go any far,” he tells me.
This is torture, I sure as hell will be leaving this place and running away, never to be seen again.
“Say the damn word. Give the fucker’s name,” he growls.
There are times when Zane has gone soft on me, now, I am being stubborn, thus, it isn’t the moment to be weak with me.
He pushes the blows beneath my butt and between my thighs. I thought I saw the stars that would make me pass out and dance in front of my eyes.
I crack, just like Zane had predicted.
“Please, Jesus, Please. Oh, Lord! Oh, Jesus!” I was now talking in gulps of pain, finding it hard to catch my breath.
Zane gives two strokes on each inner thigh, knowing my weak point.
He wouldn’t stop. Zane said he was going to stop when he had a name. With that in mind, I screamed the only name that would save me now.
“Michael! Oh, Zane, Michael is the one I met at the supermarket,” I cry out.
At once, Zane stops hitting me. He comes in front, where I can see him.
“He gave you those marks on your arm?” he demands.
I nod. When he groans, I use my words. “Yes, Daddy, my thighs hurt, Daddy,” I murmur, begging for respite of any kind.
I know Zane isn’t the man to give me.
“You lied to me, Little girl. Did he send that message as well? What was the discussion that led to that message?” Zane’s words screech out in my ears.
I know Zane wouldn’t take this part lightly, but I still say it as it is.
“Mike asked me to leave you. He showed me his bruises and said you hurt him that much. He said you were a beast and you fucking didn’t want me. I was just baggage to you,” I confess.
I see Zane walk away from me, I want to beg him to stay, but he doesn’t, he starts breaking things and I cry out loudly in pain.