THE CONTROL: An Arranged Marriage Romance by Elena Monroe (ebook reader android .txt) 📕

There was no time to flee as a man in a very neat Burberry coat came walking out of the dark parts of the club in front of me with a cloth, cleansing his hands stained with red.

Was that blood?

He wasn’t looking at me, but already talking like he assumed if there was life here that it must be Bowen. “That’s taken care of. She won’t be making it to the Kiddie Stroll. Romeo is going to be pissed. Don’t forget-” his words sliced off mid-sentence when he saw me.

Everything in me stopped working except my chest that was so tight I felt my other senses actually give my racing heartbeat the spotlight.

Still pushing forward towards me and not stopping until it was uncomfortable, I felt the back of his fingers brush down my cheek. “They really do all look like you, don’t they?” Slapping his hand away, he didn’t give me any more space than what I already had. “Feisty like them too.”

Pushing past him, I headed towards where the sound came from, determined to comprehend what had unfolded in front of me. Whatever the sound was could redeem my Bowey.

I wouldn’t love him any less, even if it was actually what it sounded like—a gunshot.

The guy at my back chuckled like it was humorous that I cared enough to seek out the truth in the dark of this empty bar.

Before I could make it down another hallway, strong arms wrapped around my waist, dragging me backwards before I could gain any traction to stand my ground. An angry, unmistakable voice, hummed in my ear, “What did I tell you? Stay. In. The. Car.”

My shoulders relaxed, realizing it was Bowey who had his hold on me when I squirmed trying to get out of his grasp. “What was that? Is that blood on his hands, Bowen?” I had more questions but those were the two that won as he dragged me out to the parking lot where his car was sitting pretty the way he hoped I would.

Finally letting go, he didn’t even try to keep me on a leash as he fished out a pack of cigarettes and pinched one between his lips. He kept me waiting while he pushed the lighter to the end, slowly inhaling and exhaling before pushing his eyes up to mine.

He knew I would be forgiving, but wouldn’t forget, so he avoids looking at me. That kind of truth is painful.

Someone who doesn’t let you forget? Torture only fit for masochist.

 

“I told you to stay in the car.” After the dramatics of keeping me waiting, that’s all his voice could boast.

I could feel my anger choke my delicate features into something unpleasant. “That’s all you have to say to me? There’s a fucking guy inside with blood on his goddamn hands who told me I look like them. Who’s them? What the fuck does that mean, Bowen?”

He didn’t tense or flinch one bit when he dragged the cigarette from his lips again. “Who am I speaking with right now? Is this Pretty Princess or Eve? I’m having trouble deciphering.”

“Does that change your fucking answer?” I felt my fingers curl under just to keep them from beating his ass like I really wanted to.

A heavy sigh later, he dragged out his words, “Pretty Princess can’t handle the truth. And as far as I’m concerned, shit isn’t her business. Eve… she can handle it. So who is it today, sweetheart?”

I was seeing every color of wrath that had me thinking violence was, in fact, the answer.

“I’ll tell you once you tell me. Are you the Bowen who doesn’t care about me at all or the one who gets hard-ons and a beautiful, custom diamond ring for me?” I quipped, knowing we were both two feet between two different personalities, trying to see which one would be accepted after all these years.

A silent chuckle left his full lips with that deep cupid’s bow as he smirked. The way it made me feel was more forgiving and forgetful than I wanted to be.

He could set the world on fire and smile like that after—I would still be his.

For better or for worse, right?

“Okay, Eve. You win.” With his hands up, he leaned against the door of his car letting me win when I hadn’t truly won anything. I still didn’t have any answers.

“I didn’t win anything.”

Flicking the cigarette end, he stood up, the cracked sneer gone without a trace and a look replacing it that said run while you still can. Standing my ground, I waited for the retort as he stepped so close, I could smell the mixture of his bad habits hit me in the face.

“You really want to know all the ways I’m fucked? Let’s see if you can really handle it.” He only paused for a moment, assessing my damage before causing any more. “Donte killed a girl in there because she bit him. She was one of the many girls that I oversee. Girls who will all go through a Romeo for grooming and out the other end to whoever pays the most. That’s Famine—not what we assumed when we were kids, huh? I get to feel empty, numb, starved and on the brink of death while my life keeps moving, but their lives don’t. This is what I have to fucking do for the Clave, Eve. Happy now?”

I wanted to scream, to fight—anything that let the emotions leak out so I could go back to when our lives were normal.

“Bowey.” Was all I could manage when he scoffed at my attempt to comfort him. I knew I probably shouldn’t, but I also knew better than to think he had a choice in any of this.

“Pick a lane. My Evey or Pretty Princess so I know what to