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

Bending at the waist, I checked the stalls for anyone. When it was clear, I snapped back up, shimmying out of my panties from under the shirt. I was determined to replace the bad memories with good ones today.

Tossing the panties in the trash, I left the bathroom like a common criminal and collided into a hard body. The scent was intoxicating, a mix of the ocean and expensive cologne. I’m sure it was called Winner’s Circle or some shit.

“Sorry,” I mumbled it without any real meaning, stupid kneejerk reaction.

He just kept staring at me with his eyes that had so many blues they resembled waves crashing against the sand. I waited for him to move when his arms crossed across his chest and his brows furrowed. “You’re good for him. You don’t listen very well, he needs that.”

I gave him a stone-cold look at his words.

Not a good listener? Seriously?

By that logic his wife must be a perfect ten for him.

Pushing past him with a strong shoulder check, I made sure my voice was clear. “I’m not good for Bowen because I don’t listen. I’m good for Bowen because I’m not afraid of the dark like your pussy ass.” Pushing my long locks over my shoulder and giving him a solid wink, I went on my way.

He would argue he wasn’t afraid of anything, but the fear that hid under his good boy looks said otherwise. Vic was in good company since everyone seemed afraid of Bowen, and I couldn’t tell if it was because they thought he was fragile or simply too dark to handle.

Making my way around the office, I finally found the space that looked like his: barren and neat. His assistant at the desk was glaring at me like it would ward me off in her Harley Davidson crop top with her feet kicked up onto the desk.

No poise at all, her brash voice hit me like a closed fist. “Looking for Bo-Bo?”

Bo-Bo? That’s what she calls him?

She had long dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and an attitude that reminded me of myself as a pre-teen. She was a poor man’s carbon copy of me without the refinement I was saddled with.

I remembered her from the photos, and all the jealousy in the world squeezed at my heart. Those girls weren’t just photos, they were real people and one of them was at his desk right now.

Giving her a small smile, I breezed by her towards the door when her chair zoomed in front of me, blocking my way. “I don’t love my job but it is my job to announce all visitors,” she said while looking down at a small switchblade she toyed with in her delicate hands.

Trying to scare me off, I stood my ground, this might have worked when I was fitting into the small box of being a lady, but I was too much like my old self now to pretend to be gracious.

“Bowey is my husband.” I made sure to use his real nickname, not the one coming out of my duplicate. Sneaking past her, I could feel her backing down, maybe she was even impressed.

I would have done a lot more than brave a switchblade for him and people needed to start digesting that information sooner rather than later.

The girl with the bad attitude reminded me a lot of myself, even the switchblade in her grasp, the same butterfly kind that I used to carry because one of us had to be prepared for danger. Bowen was too busy ignoring the world, lost in his own mind and hypnotized by my boobs when they arrived.

I was the one always ready to guard our castle, even from the people closest to us.

Khaos has a scar across his leg from grade school when he decided to hit on Bowen with his flirtatious eyes and smirk that screamed, I’ll steal your most precious belongings. Instead, I left him with a scar to remember not to try to make off with what is mine.

I was a little bit more aware than Bowey… He always saw the good in people. Sometimes it was buried deep down, but he would find it.

Slipping into his office, I watched him type with one objective in mind as I felt between my legs warm up, remembering I wasn’t wearing any panties under the long t-shirt. Only a harness over it with my boots that crawled up my thighs, bullying the hem to creep up more.

“What are you doing here? How many times do I have to tell you not to come here, Eve? It’s not safe for you.” His voice was stern and unforgiving even if I came to bare gifts.

Pushing off the door, I twisted the lock and dropped my bag in the chair next to it. The sounds of seduction weren’t very sexy, but to me they sounded like an interlude that only begged a climax I was prepared for.

“Always trying to protect me. I’m still just as dangerous, Bowey. I bite... and bark.” He sat back in his chair, trying not to react even though I could spot the corners of his lips threatening to crack.

Somehow I worked my way onto his desk, my bare ass touching the cold, smooth surface and my knees already falling apart before I was even in a comfortable position in front of him. I came here to seduce my husband and bury the trauma under it.

His hand smoothed up to my calf when he said in a whisper, “Oh, I know you bite. I’m pretty sure I still have the marks to prove it along with the hickeys you keep leaving people to see.” Pushing forward, I let my heels dig into the arms of the chair, giving Bowen a perfect view of how little I had