The sedan behind him slammed on its brakes, stopping inches from his door.
The violent jolt startled Selina. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glazed, fixed on the familiar figure stepping out of the car blocking their path.
Why is he here? she thought, the world tilting on its axis.
Zane strode to her side of the car, his movements predatory and swift. He rapped his knuckles against the glass.
The window stayed up for a tense second before sliding down.
Zane didn't wait; he wrenched the door open. His eyes locked onto Selina. She looked back, her expression flustered and heavy with intoxication.
He leaned in, his ragged breath hitching as the strong reek of alcohol hit him.
Despite the smell, a wave of agonizing relief washed over him. She was safe, even if she was in the safe yet unwanted hand.
"You look like hell," he muttered, his voice a low vibration. "Let's go home."
He reached out a hand. Selina let out a jagged, incredulous scoff.
"That's not my home. I'm not going anywhere with you," she slurred, pulling away and clutching an alcohol bottle to her chest like a shield.
"Mister," she turned to the driver, "take me where you promised."
The young man met Zane's conflicting stare. "What did you do to her? You hurt her."
"That's between us," Zane countered, his voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register. "She's mine to bring home. Don't make this difficult. Leave."
The stranger looked at Selina, his expression softening into something almost pitying. He reached into his suit pocket, pulled out a white handkerchief, and gently dabbed the sweat and the traces of dried tears from her face.
Selina went still, the tenderness of the gesture catching her off guard.
"Miss, you should go with him," the young man whispered. "It's safer. Don't be sad."
He pressed the handkerchief into her hand.
"It's fine. I'm used to being abandoned," Selina grumbled, struggling with her seatbelt. She didn't take the handkerchief.
Without another word to either of them, she rolled out of the car. The SUV didn't linger; it pulled away, leaving them in a wake of unresolved tension.
"Are you here to taunt me?" she snapped, turning on Zane with sudden, venomous energy. "Not satisfied with the hell I'm in because of you? Go away!! I never want to see you!"
She shoved him, a desperate, weak push that barely moved him, and began stumbling down the dark, lonely road beneath the golden glow of the street lights.
"That's not the way home, Selina!" Zane called out, his exasperation boiling over.
He caught up to her in three strides, his fingers locking firmly around her wrist.
Selina spun, her free hand curling into a fist. She struck his chest—once, twice—yelling, "Don't touch me! Let go of me, you rascal!"
The blows were soft, lacking the strength to move him, but they felt like lead against his heart. He didn't budge. He just stood there, jaw clenched until his teeth ached.
"I said let go!" she growled.
When he didn't move, she grabbed his hand and sank her teeth into the back of his palm. She bit down hard, mercilessly, wanting to draw blood, wanting him to flinch, rage, and discard her.
A droplet of tears from her eyes fell on the back of his palm.
Zane….his face twisted in pain, a low growl caught in his throat, but he didn't pull away. He accepted the bite, his grip on her wrist never loosening—it only shifted, becoming more protective than restrictive.
Finally, she let go. She looked up, her eyes swimming with moisture, catching the flicker of something raw in his gaze before he masked it behind a stoic wall.
"Where would you go if I let you?" he murmured.
Selina looked away, her head dipping.
She couldn't bear to let him see the pain he had caused. He was supposed to be the first to love her, not hurt her this way. But he did. He broke her into pieces.
"Anywhere," she whispered, her voice strained. "As long as I don't have to see your face."
Zane stared at the raw, red mark on his hand, which had tears on it. A knot tightened in his stomach.
"Are you feeling better now?"
"I'm not," she hissed.
"Alright. It's dark. We can't stay here," he said, pulling her gently toward his car.
Despite her efforts to resist, Selina couldn't fight him anymore. She was aware he wouldn't let her wander. But she hated that he came looking for her. He should have ignored her as if she never mattered.
When they reached the car, she wrenched the door open herself and slumped into the passenger seat. She leaned her head against the dashboard, her hair veiling her face, still hugging the bottle.
Zane stared at the drunken woman, wondering if she'd spilled everything about the incident to others. That would mean trouble. He reached out to take the bottle from her, but she harshly slapped his hand away.
"I'm sober. Just a little more and I'll be there," she muttered, staring at the dark road. "Take me to the club. I need two more."
Zane's brows snapped together. The bottle was nearly full; she was already gone. He couldn't believe she had the nerve to think about clubbing after leaving him restless.
Selina threw her head back in disgust, sensing his refusal. "I have enough money. Take me—"
"Enough," Zane said, his voice calm but final. He snatched the bottle from her grip. "Stop trying so hard to look pathetic."
Selina froze. Pathetic?
She slammed her hand against the door.
Before he could react, she lunged sideways, grabbing his collar and yanking him toward her. Their faces were inches apart, their breaths mingling in the cramped, heated space of the cabin.
Zane raised an eyebrow, genuinely stunned. No one touched him like this.
"How dare you call me pathetic... when you're the reason I'm like this?" she hissed, her voice trembling. "Do you have any idea what—"
She paused when her throat prickled suddenly.
"What?" He asked.
Instead of getting an answer, Selina lunged forward and retched, throwing up all over his chest.
Zane froze, his eyes widening in pure, horrified disbelief.
"Damn it!" he growled, recoiling as the mess soaked into his vest.
"Feels good now," Selina mumbled, her head swaying before she slumped back against the seat.
A derisive snort tore through him.
Feels good? How dare she say that? He roared in his head as rage boiled intensely in his veins.
Usually, Zane would have thrown anyone who did this out into the street to sober up the hard way. He turned, his face dark with a brewing fury, ready to unleash it.
But the irritation died beneath his skin at the sight of her. Selina was already passed out, her features pinched in a mask of pain even in her sleep.
~~••~~
Since Selina refused his help to bring her inside, all Zane could do was keep his watchful gaze on Selina as she staggered sideways, head bowed.
His vest, still reeking, hung over his arm, while his other hand slipped casually into his pants pocket.
"Ms. Selina!" Eloise's voice rang out from the other end. She stared at Selina, who was still in her soaked clothes.
Hearing that, Selina stopped in her tracks and jerked her head toward the housekeeper rushing toward her. Eloise, a woman in her mid-forties, halted in front of Selina, holding a porcelain bowl with steaming contents.
Eloise waved a hand across her face, chasing away the reeking scents. "Oh dear…. How did you end up in this state? How could you drink?" She lamented while Selina flashed her a drunken, sad smile.
"I'm not drunk… just tired," she murmured, a small pout forming as her eyes wandered around the room in search of somewhere comfortable.
"Have you gotten the hangover soup ready?" He asked, his tone cold.
"Yes, sir. It's ready like you requested." Eloise replied.
"Give it to her," Zane said calmly, locking gaze on Selina, who didn't look in his direction.
Eloise stretched out the bowl towards Selina, trying to help her drink. "Have this to stay sober."
"I can do it myself." Selina collected the bowl from Eloise instead and brought it to her mouth, drinking it in one go.
Eloise almost panicked, fearing Selina might choke. Selina placed the bowl in Eloise's palm, allowing her shoulder to sag.
She took a step further and almost lost her balance as Eloise rushed to her side, grasping her into her arms.
"Easy, ma'am!" Eloise yelped as she caught Selina mid-stumble, letting out a soft whimper when Selina's skin brushed hers. "Oh my! You're burning up. I have to change you quickly before you catch a cold."
Eloise snapped her head to the side, only to see Zane ascending the staircase to his room, completely unbothered. She frowned, feeling her blood boil.
Ignoring him, she focused on Selina, guiding the exhausted young woman to her own room.
Once inside, Eloise lay Selina onto the soft king-size bed and tucked her beneath the sheets. Selina had already drifted into a deep sleep. Her breath was shallow yet steady.
She hurried out briefly to fetch a bowl and a towel needed to tend to Selina. Moments later, she returned, dabbing a sponge gently across Selina's forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat that had broken through. Then she opened the French window, letting fresh air slip inside, hoping it would ease the tension Selina carried.
Eloise's expression soured with deep worry as she studied Selina's pale, exhausted face. It was clear her young madam had been drowning in anguish for a long time, silently holding onto hope until it finally shattered.
"My poor girl," Eloise murmured, pressing the towel gently to Selina's forehead. "I know you'll get through this. It's just a matter of time. You'll be fine soon."