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

She knew exactly what was wrong with us, and it takes more than my two hands to count through it all. “We both have demons, Eve. Bury them today.”

Holding up a handful of fries close to my mouth, I rolled my eyes when she popped an eyebrow. “Bury those demons, Bowey.”

Surprise covered her face when I engulfed her fingers too, letting the sodium and salt melt against my tongue. She wasn’t going to let me die, and I wasn't going to just let her survive. This was

our impasse, our hands touching, our bodies passing each other, and we both had to hold on because there are too many demons trying to keep us apart.

BOWEN

How does the Clave manage to make a wake feel ritualistic?

The room was vast and filled with Clave members outnumbering any family Eve’s mother has in LA. They’d rather uphold the image than let her be the lonely soul in the room with a casket, so they filled it.

They reserve that kind of torture for the horsemen.

Scanning the room, I found all the exits, separating Clave from her crazy aunt Kathy. A familiar warmth hugged my heart seeing her standing there in a simple black dress with eyes as dry as Eve’s.

Aunt Kathy was the only relief in her life, and she didn’t threaten a good thing when it came to Eve staying in my room. She was practically a saint in my eyes.

Looking to my right, I felt our hands bump into each other before I locked my fingers with hers. My eyes trailed over her slip, sweater, and my boots that I had fished out of the trunk in desperation that were clearly too big for her.

She was a disaster.

My disaster.

My mom wasted no time fleeing the dull conversation she was in to wrap her arms around Eve. I could see her whispering something into the embrace, and I wondered what it was with my face scrunched up.

It certainly wasn’t a condolence, not after hearing my mom go toe-to-toe with her now dead mom. Everyone was pointing a finger in my direction, but no one even considered. There wasn’t much she wouldn’t do for the people she loves. Even if that meant giving up the life she’d gotten used to.

I felt Eve’s delicate fingers squeeze mine with my mom’s arm still around her. It made me ultra-aware of how much I was protecting her from the snakes in the room—being the strength she always was for me when we were younger.

Eve grew up around the Clave, but proximity is a bitch.

Dragging me out of the fog of my thoughts, my mom’s hand squeezed my arm. “Bowen? Introductions are in order after the sermon,” her voice was flat, and I knew we were both dreading this.

Turning to face Eve, still hand in hand, I spoke in a low tone, just to her, “Please button the sweater. Not everyone needs to be tempted by you the same way I am.

“I know everyone’s dads. It’s really not a big deal, Bowen.” Still being difficult, she pushed the button into a hole with one hand, compliant even though her words rebelled.

“It’s not just our dads, Eve, not anymore. There are a lot of people in this room who bought into the Clave.” I basically had to drag her to the front where she was expected to stand while everyone lined up to personally tell her how sorry they were for the loss.

Fucking cheap.

If they knew her mom the way we did, they probably would have offered to make this a reality a lot sooner. If someone had offered, I would have said yes solely based on our childhood.

“The more people buy in, the worse your attitude gets?” I watched her eyebrow pop with a smirk on her lips waiting to spread into a grimace.

Scowling her direction, I didn’t respond when she stepped closer into me and expertly let her sass melt into crocodile tears.

I filed that away to bring up later—the ability to shift expertly between emotions. I could see the tears welling up over those baby blue eyes, turning a deeper blue by the second.

Color me impressed.

“Missed you at the Grove this year, Bowen. It’s always such a pleasure when you’re there.” My eyes snapped up to the figure at my side, clutching onto my arm and whispering like the heat of his seduction would grant him a one-on-one at my wife’s mother’s wake.

“I wish I had another taste before you got married…” His hand trailed down my spine and stopped right before my ass like it was the sweet spot that was just off limits until I felt his fingers dig right in.

Eve wasn’t going to be the one to misbehave the way I feared…

Squeezing Eve’s hand, I swallowed down the rage lodged in my throat at the bad memories that were a lot closer than normal. A one-off of being passed around to the religious fucks that didn’t give one fuck. He was the one that got away because his death could be traced back to me too easily.

He was just an understudy for the guy who raped me more times than I can count. Actually, I could, it was the same amount that I stabbed him.

Forty-seven.

He was another problem priest, in dress robes, touching me in a way that I knew meant something besides sorry for your loss.

Leaning into Eve, I ripped my arm from his grasp, letting my lips press against hers long enough to have her following mine when I pulled away. She tasted like sugar and a splash of spiked iced tea.

Suddenly I was thirsty.

My hand on her hip kept her in place when I whispered, “I’m sorry for what’s about to happen.”