THE CONTROL: An Arranged Marriage Romance

by Elena Monroe

  The smile gracing my presence slipped from her lips, leaving behind a shattered kind of appearance I was hoping would dissolve her little act that she continued to insist on balancing.

  Eventually.

  A second later, the smile returned, making my eyes clamp down when she started making a to-go plate. “At least take some for work. Maybe for a snack or breakfast for lunch?”

  Walking by the end of the counter where she pushed the container for me to take, I ignored it instead of pushing it into the trash the way I wanted to. As much as I was still trying to break her glossy finish, I could only hurt Eve so much.

  “I don’t eat, so don’t cook for me. I told you, sitting pretty is all you have to do.”

  I caught her reserve slip when she sucked in a breath and her hand slapped the counter demanding my attention. “What do you expect me to do all day?” The words were strained and desperate for direction.

  Grabbing two nips off the bar cart in the next room, I watched her recover and force a smile again. “I mean, is there something I can do?”

  She wasn’t going to break easily, and I wasn’t going to stop until I got my Eve back.

  “Whatever it is you usually do when I’m gone. Maybe you can snoop like you did last time?” Holding my smoothie against my ribs with my arms, I was already shooting the smooth, tart, liquor down my throat. I was way too sober to look at her flinching with trauma that won’t be easy trying to peel from her bones.

  Almost all of it visible too. It wasn’t lost on me how frail she looked trying to match my stature.

  Slumping into my car, I was leaving her abandoned as usual with no transport, no numbers, and no directions, just like I did to the girls that Donte would save for me.

  I was always looking for her in other people and was disappointed when they turned out to be poor duplicates. I’d hold them hostage in a cage until they broke, have them work as my assistant, and make sure they trusted me before I set them free.

  If you let an injured animal go into the world, they’ll end up dead before they can learn to survive.

  I wanted them to survive.

  Maybe because I wasn’t.

  Downing nip number two, I pressed the start button of my black Aston Martin, letting the trembling of the engine kick starting annoy my neighbors.

  Walking into my office and ignoring my assistant, Chevy’s questioning smirk, I kicked open my door while chugging the rest of my smoothie that was a murky green color that didn’t seem appetizing, but I was used to it now.

  Sitting behind my desk, I opened the bottom drawer to find various bottles of Hennessy waiting to be picked for my coffee today, chasing all the goodness in the now empty mason jar.

  Pouring an ample amount, I watched the coffee turn a darker tone when I stirred them together with my finger, sucking off the liquid stuck to my skin.

  No sense in wasting one drop.

  I had done three stints in rehab. All of them leaving me worse off than the time before it. By the third time, I was practically running to a bottle to castrate my exposed nerve endings.

  Rehab was a bad joke that only made me better at hiding shit.

  Chevy was a hard one to break, she had a habit of doing what she wanted for her own sick pleasures which meant letting three all too familiar girls barge into my office unannounced when I was pushing the drawer closed. “Can I help you?”

  Grace was standing behind them unamused and quiet in a way I immediately respected more than Vic and Grimm’s wives.

  I wasn’t just an acquired taste; I had picky taste buds for people too.

  Justice folded her arms against her chest with a look in her eye that said I want to kill you even though her voice was softer than normal. “You’re getting married? Does she know you?”

  Guess she wasn’t over our last interaction… If she really wanted to send me to hell, she could, but I had a feeling she was going to the same place.

  You can only repent so much before it becomes bartering for your soul.

  Sipping the coffee with the smooth aftertaste I could recognize anywhere, I didn’t bother entertaining them, it was a waste of my time. If they wanted information, they could gather it on their own or bother their husbands.

  Abigail’s voice was saturated in worry when she perked up next to Justice, “Are you okay? Bowen?”

  She was taking my silence as some kind of issue instead of the venomous personality trait that it was. “I was ignoring you like I do all stupidity. Is there another reason you're here, gossip queens?”

  Justice was wound up so tight that if we let go she could start a hurricane. She could talk to anyone else the way she wanted to, and it was clear Vic saw it as foreplay, but my dick wasn’t touching her kind of crazy with a ten-foot pole so she can lose the attitude with me.

  Grace spoke from the other side of the room while fingering whatever was over there. “Just get to the point. He’s obviously cutting to the chase.” With a small pause she groaned facing my direction. “They want to throw her a bachelorette party. Pretty sure they just want to scope her out.”

  “Out of the question.”

  Abigail acted as the kind verbal backup with Grace as the strong arm. But Justice, their mouthpiece, spoke up against the injustice with such ease it made my eyes want to roll back, but instead, I drank more of my spiked coffee. “So we can’t ever be around her? What is she… a prisoner? Slave?”

  Sitting back and closing the window on the desktop Mac, I scavenged their faces for an ulterior motive. Coming up empty, I pondered how much innocent hands can quickly turn into something else.

  It starts subtly and ends in a kind of dirty that makes you so angry that all the other kinds of emotions don’t even catch your eye. Who would have thought uninvited hands had the power to keep you angry?

  I was all too comfortable with how things turn corrupt without any real warning signs.

  Every glaring set of eyes was judging Eve marrying me before they knew her, or knew us, and it was a sure fire way to piss me off.

  “Imprisoned by a ring and slave to the rules of the Clave; the same as you all. I don’t need her joining your merry band of cohorts and annoying me more than she does. Take your fucking unwelcomed judgement somewhere else.”

  What in the actual fuck? Why were they even here to pass judgement? Hilarious coming from a gangbanger, a feminist on crack, and... Abigail, who I actually couldn’t say much about when we shared a similar past.

  One that left visible scars on her from what I’ve heard.

  They were still standing in front of my desk looking at me like they could break me when I was already a broken boy and even more bruised of a man. The job was already complete.

  “You’re dismissed.” Picking up my phone, it rang until Dante answered. I had business to attend to, and if they wanted the details of my job then they were welcome to stay and listen, but I wasn’t their husbands. What I do is much worse.

  Donte’s gruff voice filled my ear while Justice narrowed her focus on me, trying to challenge me to say something terrible and I was about to, she just needed to wait for it. “You called me five times last night. Issue?”

  I didn’t break eye contact with Justice when I sat back into my chair as I listened to Donte’s cracked voice explain that there was an incident in my absence last night when I stayed home with Eve.

  Apparently, one of the girls didn’t like Donte’s version of manhandling and tried to bite his tongue off when he shoved it in her mouth but making any moves past a slap on the wrist was something I had to approve of.

  On a labored exhale, I spoke easily into my phone hanging off my ear, “No one said you could touch the merchandise. Those girls aren’t for you to test drive, Donte.”

  Justice’s eyes flared, and she tensed in an obvious way when her whole body squared to mine like she was begging me to stand up and let her give me her worst. I hung up the phone while Donte pleaded his case to me, because unlike Vic, the only other person he dealt with, I wou
ld hurt him in ways he wouldn’t want to come back from.

  My twisted mind worked differently than Vic’s. Mine didn’t care about strategy or winning, but painting the world black enough for me to blend into.

  Dropping the phone to my desk, I pressed my elbows into the surface, leaning forward when I took her attention hostage. “Is there a reason your offended ass isn’t leaving? Scared you’ll like it if you stay or that I'll corrupt you in ways good ole’ golden boy can’t?”

  My virgin dick wasn’t going to touch her if my dying breath depended on it, but she didn’t need to know the extent of the games I played.

  Grace grabbed Justice by the arm and yanked her from her position, convincing her to drop it even when I kept my eyes glued to her long enough to make sure she knew she lost this round.

  That was enough of a treat for me considering how much she was exactly like Vic.

  I started counting down from ten in my head, waiting to see Vic barge through my door with complaints I made his wife feel funny.

  Forewarning: I make everyone feel funny.

  Downing my spiked coffee, I let the black screen illuminate on my desktop with the Clave logo and a simple login that granted me access. Only big players had access and our limit for gathering information knew no bounds. If I wanted to know your credit score, I could.

  I didn’t want to know anything but why my brother killed himself and why the only person to truly have my back was ripped away from my life like a fresh band aid.

  None of that was accessible, trust me, I tried the easy routes.

  I knew him better than anyone, so when he stomped in, I simply kept working and greeted him like it was inconvenient. “Vic. Need something?”

  Waiting for the soft close of the door behind him, he waited silently with his arms closed. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

  The emancipation of myself was coming earlier than I expected and it was my own fault, not because I was distracted by my soon-to-be wife.

  Glancing his direction with my eyebrows perked up, I waited for an explanation of his presence. “What? I didn’t threaten, fuck, marry, or kill the bitch. Do you want me to apologize for her bleeding heart ruining my office rug?”

  Vic broke his serious look that erupted into laughter when he folded at the knees. The Vic I knew before Justice didn’t even crack a smile unless it was a part of his master plan.

  Now he laughs for the fucking fun of it.

  Can’t say I’m into it. I’m actually rethinking our mutually assigned destruction buddy contract.

  His fit of laughter broke when he snapped upright, closing the shade like my office wasn’t already private, dark, and off limits. Stepping with his light, agile feet towards the desk, I swallowed hard recognizing the look in his eye: deranged and protective.

  I had seen it before, but never before Justice. He picked up the sphere on the corner of my desk and stole my gaze that was caught up in his silence. “Let me be clear. Justice is off limits in your fucked up games you like to play with people. Got it? I wouldn’t want to hurt the only person I trust.”

  I should have challenged him, told him how much I welcomed pain with open arms, how much it wouldn’t rival the hurt already blooming inside my cold, dead heart but I didn’t. I let him fill the room with his vigilance in protecting the one piece of happiness he had.

  “We done here? Between you and the band of cohorts, I’ve gotten zero done.”

  “Bachelor party this weekend. Khaos’s idea, so mentally prepare for that. There’s no getting out of it. We have to celebrate your last days of freedom,” he tossed over his shoulder when he yanked my office door open to leave.

  Rolling my eyes, I leaned back when I heard the band of cohorts outside my office louder than the demons in my head, forcing me to stand up and ignore the bullshit laid out in front of me. Khaos was going to have to wait to be slapped down when I headed straight for the door, pulling it open to have a perfect view of the front desk.

  Eve was standing at the desk with a brown paper bag in her hands waiting to be helped as Khaos strutted his way over to her like the fucking welcome wagon he was for the Clave.

  The cohorts were whispering to themselves, trying to figure out who the girl was when I sliced through their wonderment, breezing by them.

  Grabbing the back of Eve’s elbow, I spoke in a low voice, “What the fuck are you doing here?” I started leading her away from the desk and back towards the elevators.

  I wasn’t even sure how she got past security. This building was sealed tight and off limits in a way that kept the elite separated from the rest of the world. We only found out later that Grace and Dove ended up inside through their own set of skills.

  Having a background in gangster really did open doors, literally.

  Her fingers held onto the bag tightly when her voice shook, “I brought you lunch, you forgot your pancakes.” I could see her gaze looking right past me and at the group of girls that were no doubt still watching.

  Stopping in front of the elevator, I still pinched her elbow between my fingers as I pressed the button commanding the elevator. “I don’t eat, and I told you I didn’t want you too close to the Clave. Remember the other night? It’s dangerous. How did you even get here?”

  Pretty Princess mode diminished against my cold tone. Her defenses were up, as they should be, when she retorted, “Well, we have Uber in Denmark, and I was around this my whole childhood, Bowen... what’s so secret here?”

  The elevator doors opened, but she didn’t budge. “We’ve already talked about this, Eve. You know now that the Clave is so much worse than we ever dreamed, that’s why I need you as far away from here as possible.”

  Leaning against the door so they wouldn’t close, she refused to leave. “Who are the girls? Why are they not being escorted out, Bowey?”

  Looking over my shoulder, the girls had somehow gotten closer. “Vic, Khaos, and Grimm’s wives-” before I could warn her off, the girls were broaching the elevator and standing inside its doors.

  Justice had an I won twinkle in her eye that was unmistakable when she crossed her arms over her chest. “Better luck next time, Bowen. We’ll make sure she gets home.”

  Fuck.

  If those girls were catalysts then Eve would be the increase in temperature that was going to speed up the reaction. No amount of Pretty Princess would ever change how much trouble stuck to her motivations like glue.

  EVE

  The elevator doors closed on Bowey, but I could feel the tension and anger even with a thick layer of steel between us.

  The girl with pink hair who had the last word against Bowen, which I’m sure wasn’t a normal occurrence, leaned against the railing, staring at me. Keeping my eyes forward, I cleared my throat and waited for a barrage of questions to hail down over me.

  The silence swelled before I pivoted into my heel and faced them, taking matters into my own hands even though I was biting back the real me from tossing careless words up my throat.

  I knew without any hints she clearly belonged to Vic, the petulant winner. He found someone just like him, only with less polish and more pink. When we were kids, he always had to win even if no one was competing.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t give him any scars in our youth, only blows to his ego.

  Abigail, I knew belonged to Reaper because of the precarious position I already saw her in. I had seen the girl fully naked, kneeling on her kitchen floor with nipple clamps and a blind fold. She had a side I wouldn’t suspect and it reminded me of how I had to cage the real me to survive Denmark like a bad memory.

  I could tell the quiet girl in the back of the elevator trying to blend in with the textured walls belonged to Khaos—or rather, he belonged to her. Khaos and I had the same taste in people, clearly, since he was always trying to steal Bowen.

  The silence didn’t last much longer when the girl with the raspy voice in converse and a leopard skirt started to introduce herself. I already knew this was going to start i
n judgments and end in carefully placed insults.

  They were weary of me, and I was annoyed that they knew more than I did.

  “I’m Justice, but everyone calls me Jus. You’re Bowen’s fiancé, right?”

  Pleasantries weren’t for me, princess mode or not. “Yes, I’m Eve.” I didn’t feel the need to do a mini bio like when the new kids arrive on campus and the teacher makes them say interesting facts about themselves like anyone is listening.

  The judgement closing in on me only made me close in on myself even more.

  I was the new girl in a weird sense of the word. These girls didn’t know me and there had been enough time between the guys and I that it felt new again.

  She paused, but I could see the motivation to say something else. She wanted to warn me against Bowen, yet her lips didn’t move.

  Crossing my arms, feeling defensive, I stared into her eyes and saw how much she’d try to win even in this conversation. “It looks like you want to say something. Go ahead, I’ve been through worse than whatever warning you’re going to give me.”

  Abigail’s mouth dropped at my words which blazed a smirk over my glossy lips.

  Jus stood taller, mimicking my crossed arms when she smiled in a vindictive way. “I don’t normally give out unsolicited advice but he’s a different story…”

  Her ill attempt at being a girl’s girl was being poorly executed.

  It actually had me laughing out loud. She had no idea who I was or how much I knew her husband in ways she wouldn’t.

  That’s what childhood friends do, rub it in your face that you’ll have all their other parts but that one is just out of reach and always will be.

  “How well do I know Bowey?” Pretending to think, I watched her wicked smirk taunt me like I was going to come up empty. “Let’s see, his mother basically raised me, we spent every day together and slept in the same bed throughout our whole childhood, he made life bearable for me when it wasn’t. He was my everything. Still is. Then we ended up being ripped apart for years without any contact… But I still think I know him a whole hell of a lot better than you.”