THE CONTROL: An Arranged Marriage Romance, Elena Monroe [have you read this book .txt] 📗

Leaving my blender cup on the bathroom counter, I went to start the shower when I could see Eve through the glass stained with steam that fogged the outline of her body. She knew my routine and yet here we were.

Leaning against the counter with my arms folded against my chest, I watched her, humming to herself while running a soapy loofa against her body.

She was a trap if I ever saw one.

Waiting for her to be done, she spoke above the water cascading down her body like rain. “You don’t have to wait, Bowey.”

Smirking at her words and invitation, I actually did. I was implementing a no sex rule until she willingly gave up the information I wanted about Denmark, her stepbrother, and traumas that happened miles away.

Pulling open the door of the shower, I stood there with my hands bracing each side, leaning in far enough without getting wet. I was distracted by her being completely on display in front of me—not shy at all.

“Actually, I do… Until you can give me some truths, I’m out of commission. Better replace those batteries in your vibrator, Evey.” My eyes were low and the smirk across my face was undeniably victorious.

Her eyes got smaller with the realization that last night was going to be the same kind of material I had to use for years. It was only fair she went through a dry spell. Dry her out until she comes to her senses.

It had been 48 hours since I laid down the law with Eve, and she was a full-blown dominatrix with a whip trying to break whatever pride I had left.

She was parading around even more naked, even more sexualized than normal, and whenever I left the house, my phone would blow up with photos and texts that made my dick ache.

Trust me, it wasn’t easy but the truth never was.

Trying to close the front door as I left, I was stopped with a half-naked Eve who was willing to give the entire neighborhood a show if it meant the glory of breaking me twice. Handing me a brown paper bag with a blue butterfly sticker, she didn’t try to cover up any of herself when she leaned outside of the doorway to hand it to me.

With stern eyes, she understood not to take one more step and just simply smirked in my direction instead. Still standing there, I leaned in letting my lips drop to her neck without actually touching her skin when I spoke, “Anything you want to tell me, Evey?”

Letting my lips crawl up her neck to her ear, I felt her melt into me as my hand smoothed against her side until I nearly reached her ass. I was torturing her and myself in the process when she shook her head no.

Pulling myself away and twisting on my heel, I left her there, withering and swooning for more as I climbed into my car. Dropping the brown paper bag onto the passenger seat next to me, I eyed it like a bomb quietly waiting to go off.

The sun was high in the sky, and I had already died a few deaths all at her hands.

Grabbing the paper bag and my phone, I headed for the elevator to the safety of my office. Eve hadn’t shown face here since her run-in with Justice and I was thankful for that.

Peeling open the brown bag, I peeked inside fully aware she knew I didn’t eat. I found a perfectly folded pair of small purple lace panties, a polaroid of her topless, and a scandalous note that read: If I have to use accessories then I figure you are too…

Crumpling the bag in my hand, I left her trinkets on my desk, trying to will myself to not use them the way she intended. I have been fucking Famine for years and now my body wanted to demand everything I’d starved it of.

The green folder sitting on my computer keyboard caught my attention—the one I asked Donte for too long ago. I almost forgot all about it while he took his precious time getting it to me.

Opening it, I let my eyes scan for words that would put the pieces together without all the gruesome detail I was expecting. How much paid, her parent’s names, her grooming outlined, and then my eyes dropped to the word sterile.

I dropped the folder back down to my desk, letting it go ignored when I closed it, stopping it from weighing on my conscience.

The Clave would have never agreed to an arranged marriage if Eve couldn’t have kids.

They didn’t know and this folder was the only proof of Eve being tortured in ways that made my stomach clench, threatening my smoothie to come back up.

I barely put the folder away, hidden in a drawer that had a lock and key, when Chevy’s abrasive knuckles wrapped against the door. I wasn’t buzzed enough to hold conversations, let alone brace myself against her attitude.

When the door silently pulled open, I didn’t see my assistant like I thought but Vic standing tall with a benevolent topcoat. “Eve’s parents died this morning… I tried to call you when Rodriguez gave me the heads up.”

I knew what I was supposed to feel, some kind of remorse, yet I didn’t. Her mom was a waste of space who valued serial dating more than being her parent and her stepdad was still in the running for being the sole reason Eve was all but water boarded in Denmark.

I didn’t care, and I was pretty sure Eve wouldn’t either.

“Okay, when’s the funeral? Who is making their arrangements?” My voice was flat and unemotional when I asked for the details realizing this was my problem now. No one else’s.

Vic