***ZANE’S POV***
To say I was mad was an understatement. I was furious. London was going to learn how to respect me no matter the fucking course.
Pulling my weight from her, I tracked her movement as I waited for her to give me a response.
When I found that London wasn’t in bed, I didn’t make a move to go for her because I had heard her phone ring. She had been sniffing in the bathroom thinking that I wasn’t able to hear her.
I had heard all of it. But with pure restrain, I had stopped myself from reaching out to her.
“Talk,” I urge her sitting beside her on the large bed.
Her red-rimmed eyes stare at me before she whispers the words I fear the most.
“Oliver said if I don’t meet him tomorrow he will deliver a box of Micah’s body parts to me before the night is over,” she stutters.
“Bullshit. You know he is blackmailing you, right? He can’t do that and you so well know it,” I blurt out hoping she sees the truth in what I was saying.
London’s teary eyes just stared at me, refusing to admit that it was true but I knew better than to make her admit it.
“This isn’t about you, Zane. You don’t know what I am feeling now,” she says causing me to frown.
That’s it, something I don’t ever wish to fucking hear again.
My eyes were filled with shock as I heard her shudder before me.
“You don’t mean that, do you? We spoke about this the last time, London. Oliver wouldn’t dare touch your brother,” the words spill out of my mouth.
“Why? You are not the boss of him. And Zane, if you wanted to help, you would have your men out there looking for Micah, not sitting your ass here waiting for a miracle to happen,” she blurts out.
My face turned red and London jumped out of the bed, trying to reach for the door.
Sliding out of the bed behind her, I grab her arm and pull her towards me, my nostrils flaring.
“Don’t you dare talk about me like that, London? You know better,” I state flatly.
“There goes that fucking toxic behavior,” she mouths out rolling her eyes.
I was so pissed off that I slapped London. I swear, it wasn’t supposed to be hard, I didn’t even apply pressure but damn, she went flying across the room, and passed out.
“Shit!” I growl rushing towards her and picking her in my arms.
“Baby, London, please, wake up, Sweet Jesus, look at me,” I say putting her on the bed and glaring at her face.
Just a faint tinge of my handprint was on her face and when her eyes fluttered open, her gaze was unfocused for a moment.
“What happened?” she asked cringing her face and I knew she had a headache.
I don’t hit women, but London makes me lose my sanity. I don’t like that.
“I slapped you and you passed out on me,” I say not sounding proud of myself,”
She broadens her eyes as she scrambles off my body.
“I’m going to sleep with Dante,” she spurs.
I don’t argue. When she stands, she sways a little, but manages to stay right. My body tenses as I feel like a beast, some sort of feared monster.
“London, please listen,” I try to start a conversation.
“So that you can slap me again? No, Zane. You are never putting your hands on me. And if you want to know how I feel about what Oliver said, I think my answer is yes. My ex never treated me the way you did,” she fires out.
My heart swells in shock as I stare at her back as she walks to the door, when she touches it I know that would be the end of the conversation. I can’t have that.
“You married me, not him. That counts,” I fire out.
“Only because you fucking tricked me and got me pregnant,” she cries out.
“You think so? That’s ridiculous,” I murmur weighing my next words.
London doesn’t respond to my banter, she just leaves, closing the door very gently behind her.
My face was red with anger. I saw red.
She thought I wasn’t helping her find her brother but my men were out there and if they had found a thing, they would have already signaled me about it.
I became restless, it fucking became difficult to think because right now, my brain was a fuss of uncensored thoughts. Just me thinking hard about what to do on my own caused my eyelids to shut down.
It was sunlight that woke me up, and using my hand to hide my face, I opened my eyes, partly startled and on alert.
Mia stood there, her hands on her hips as she rolled her eyes.
“Wake up Zane, it’s time to go with your boy happy birthday,” she murmurs and it comes to place, my body jerking forward.
“Sure,” I say waiting for her to leave before putting on some clothes and rushing outside to Dante’s bedroom beside ours.
When I enter the room, my breath is caught in my throat at the image before me.
London is sleeping on the rocking chair with Dante in her arms.
She looks tired and that breaks my heart so badly.
Dante notices me and he pushes towards me, hoping I carry him. Taking him in my arms, I look at London, slightly snoring.
I hate that she slotted her, and what’s even worse is that I slept on that big and comfortable bed while she was here sleeping in an uncomfortable position.
I understand my wife needed space, but damn it if that was how I wanted us to be apart from one another.
She stirs when she doesn’t notice the weight of Dante on her arms and I hush her frailing body as she panics, shock consuming her to find me there with the baby.
“I’ve got him, honey,” I say sweetly, not wanting us to fight before the baby.