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“You want to stay don’t you?”

I should’ve said no.

Should’ve gotten dressed and left.

This shit with Mark was going to get ugly.

“I’m gonna go cook. Make you something to eat for breakfast, then we’re going to finish our movie.”

He rolled off me and slapped my ass as I was on the way to the kitchen, saying, “Good girl.”

I skipped my happy as out of the room, knowing I wasn’t going home tonight.

Hell, I probably wasn’t going home this week either.

Chapter 25- Mark

I had driven three hours to Zane’s parents’ house. It had been almost three weeks since she’d been home, and I planned to get to the bottom of this. I rang the bell once, resisting the urge to bang against the heavy wooden door. I had better things to do than chase after Zane, but she was forcing my hand.

The door cracked open, and her mother’s face appeared—tight and filled with contempt. Zane had obviously not gotten her looks from her overweight, plain-looking mother.

“You have about five seconds to get off my porch.”

I didn’t move. “I’m here for Zane.”

“She’s not here.”

“Where is she?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Not your business anymore.”

“What does that mean? I’m her husband.” What had Zane been telling these people?

She stepped fully into the doorway now, hands on her wide hips. “Not for long.”

“I have a right to speak to my wife.”

“Youhada right. Then you lost it.”

A car pulled into the driveway across the street. A boy stepped out with a backpack and looked at me.

“You okay, Mrs. Myrick?” he asked, scowling in my direction.

She nodded. “Go in the house, baby. He ain’t nobody.” She waved him off before turning her attention back to me.

“I don’t know how you thought knocking on my door would achieve anything. I don’t like you. I saw through you and those cheap suits you wear the moment I laid eyes on your beady-eyed ass.”

I said nothing.

She shook her head slowly. “You are exactly the man I told her not to marry. Arrogant. Controlling. Weak.”

I raised a brow. “That’s rich, coming from someone who couldn’t spare a moment for their daughter. She’s who she is because of you.”

She leaned in, voice low, a smirk covering her face. “You get off my porch and leave my fucking daughter alone, Mark, or I swear to God, you will regret it.”

I adjusted my cufflinks slowly and schooled my features, though my muscles felt coiled. Zane’s mother, Susana, was one of those women who thought that because she had a degree and made as much money as a man, she didn’t have a place beneath men in this world. Her husband should have taught her that place.

“She will come back,” I said.