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

distance between us, twisting the chair around before slumping down. His elbows dug little graves into his thighs while he spoke, “I’m not hiding anything, Eve. I told you I’m not your Bowey anymore, I told you I’m no angel, I told you to be happy with what I gave you but you refused to listen. You pushed and pushed. I need to know what kind of darkness lives inside you because I know I don’t deserve you.”

His voice was calm, steady in ways I wasn’t when my knees buckled behind the island. “Then be honest!” I let the words stand up for me instead of myself because I was tired of this moment.

I wanted us to be able to be honest with each other, for better or worse, but instead we kept protecting each other from our demons and it wasn’t actually doing shit. It was making living with them even more exhausting.

Sitting upright, his eyes looked devastatingly beautiful—a clear night with a shade of gray and the gold flecks glowed the same way stars would. He had an entire sky in his eyes. “Who. Is. Elias? How’s that for honesty?” He paused only for a second for the relentlessness to settle in when he continued, “You left and Braeden died, nothing was the same after that. I got the joy of becoming a horseman instead of him. I got to go to Patmos. I got to take his place on some fucked up island where a priest decided that I was good enough to take my brother’s place as his own personal sex doll. It was a lot of fun getting drunk for the first time with the guy I had to see every Sunday for mass. Every other flaw came as an accessory to that demon, Eve. I can see it on you, you know what that feels like, don’t you?”

Everything in me sputtered until it stopped: my breathing, my heart, my weak knees, and my admiration for his nightfall eyes.

Everything hurt and stilled at the same time.

I did know what it felt like but nothing in comparison to his demons. Mine were dark lit. I only knew what being violated was like, being groomed, being forced to be a princess and not having anyone to turn to. We only had so much in common and yet I still felt like the stain on his life.

I felt like the ugly, damaged goods, staining his perfectly curated cruelty.

I was supposed to be the beacon of hope for him, all smiles and rainbows. How? I’m just as damaged. I was just as damning as a stain on a white couch—too obvious in his world full of secrets.

My mouth dropped open to respond when nothing came out. I felt like a fraud hearing how life was so awful for him. Feeling my eyebrows pinch and my eyes drop from his I let the silence swell instead.

He didn’t wait long before he stood and left the room like his secret pushed him out before they could traumatize him again. The rest of the night was just as silent and lonely, neither of us breaching the gap between us that we put there for our own safety.

Above all else we valued each other’s safety, even if that meant miles and years away from each other. Maybe they had it right to keep us apart. Maybe this much trauma can’t survive long enough to fall in love with a happy ending when you’re expecting a nightmare.

I fell asleep on the couch with Bowen’s copy of Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee in my hands trying to distract myself from the truths now keeping us apart as much as me being dragged to Denmark did.

This is why I wanted my truths to die with me instead of coming to the light.

 

A consistent sound I couldn’t place felt like it was shaking me awake when I wiped the back of my hand against the corner of my mouth, catching any drool that may have collected in my sleep. Rolling off the couch to my feet, I focused on the sound, following it until I found myself at a black door down the hallway with the downstairs bathroom.

An unused space but his whole house could have been chalked up to an unused space besides his blender, bar, and bed.

My legs trembled being on this side of the door wondering what the sounds were.

The dense and dull sound only reverberated through me with a panic thinking he was exactly how I feared—evil.

Whole heartedly expecting to see someone choking on their own blood while he pounded into them, I pushed the door open. I wouldn’t be able to sleep without knowing who was dying and why.

Relief washed over me, stealing my fragile legs when I saw Bowen shirtless in a pair of joggers while his wrapped fist jabbed into a punching bag.

Every muscle tensed with each hit, each clean punch that landed on the bag with precision. His body was toned, cut and defined, but still lean with abs on full display, the trails of sweat marking his skin instead of scars.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him as I massaged my lip with my teeth hoping this was the beginning of his workout and not the end.

Stopping, I watched his chest inflate and deflate quickly while his arms kept moving to keep himself active. He could have been made out of marble, something hard to shatter—he’s immaculate.

He saw me out of the corner of his eye when I offered up how I arrived down here. “I thought someone might be dying.”

He smirked and his eyebrows lifted, all in this way that said not impossible.

“In my mind, someone is always dying. This helps it stay imaginative. Wanna try?” He twisted towards me before bridging the gap between us.

Every