Under Control: A Fake Marriage Mafia Romance
Under Control: Chapter 34

I give Arsen some water and let him eat a little bit. I have to feed him, which is weird, but he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he’s almost a little too grateful.

“You end up tied to a chair in a basement often in your line of work?” I ask him, studiously ignoring the table with bloodied torture tools lined up like someone’s preparing a particularly nasty surgery.

“Only once in a while,” he says with a crooked smile. “How about you? I’m guessing this whole thing is a new experience.”

I sit on a chair across from him and cross my legs under me. “My mom kept the criminal stuff out of our life. I didn’t even know she was related to your dad until recently.”

“Lucky you,” Arsen says, and there’s that bitterness again. He glances away. “For what it’s worth, I was ordered to burn down your mother’s house.”

Anger stirs in me. “That doesn’t really make me feel better.”

“I figured it wouldn’t.”

“She’s your aunt. She’s your family. And you almost killed her.”

“What was the alternative? Refuse and let my father send someone else? Take a beating, lose another tooth, get a new scar on my back? I learned a long time ago that when my father tells me to do something, I better fucking do it, whether I want to or not.”

“And did you want to? Hurt my mother?”

“Not at all. I’ve never even met my own aunt before, and I was supposed to burn her to death. That seems pretty fucked, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, and you tried.”

“Like I said.” A wry, bitter smile. “Not much choice.”

I take a few calming breaths. He’s going to rationalize what happened all he wants, but the fact remains that he assaulted and tried to murder his own flesh and blood.

Orders or no order, that’s fucking evil.

But once my heart rate starts to slow and I’m thinking clearly again, a thought occurs to me. “You didn’t sound happy to be speaking to your father.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“I’m guessing you two don’t get along.”

“Putting it mildly.” He glances at me. “Is this an interrogation? Should you get one of those knives? I have some cuts you can reopen where your husband already drained me of everything I know. Feel free to start there.”

I glance down at the plastic wrap on the floor. It’s all brand new, which means someone changed it out.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Wonderful. That’s a first.”

“But I’m curious why you hate your dad.”

His eyes narrow. “I never said I hate my father.”

I’m worried I went too far, too fast, but I push ahead anyway. I sense an opening, and I want to wriggle my way through before it closes down again.

“No, but he clearly used to hurt you, right? You said something about scars.”

“Father had a very particular method of discipline.”

“You sounded surprised that he’s going to trade my mother for your life.”

He tries to shrug, but his ropes prevent it. “He made it clear a long time ago that my status as his son didn’t guarantee me anything. Even if I’m the oldest.”

“That must be hard.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” he says, jaw setting in a tough line. “You had a normal life, didn’t you? I hear your dad died, which sucks, but you got to go to school. You didn’t have to learn how to sell drugs at fifteen. You didn’t kill a man at eighteen. You didn’t spend your entire life attempting to please a man that treats you like a fucking dog. So don’t tell me what’s hard.”

I don’t say anything at first. I let his emotions fester for a few seconds as I process.

These things happen in cycles. A father hits a son, abuses him, and a son goes on to become an abusive father, and it rolls on like that, generation after generation, inflicting the same traumas on each other because humans are fallible and stupid and petty and mean. It’s not his fault, but it also very much is his fault, and I don’t want to empathize with him too much.

He nearly murdered my mother.

“So why would you want to go back to all that?” I ask it very gently, aware that I’m crossing an invisible line and taking a risk. He stares at me, gaze nakedly hostile, but he doesn’t answer right away. I don’t know if that’s a good thing.

“It’s my life,” he says at last.

“Does it have to be? If you hate your father so much⁠—”

“I never said that.”

“If you hate your abuser, why go back? We’re cousins, right?”

“Whatever you’re trying to do, don’t bother. The Brotherhood is my life.”

I don’t try to argue. Instead, I give him more water, which he drinks, and offer him more food, which he eats. When I’m done, I leave him there alone in the dark basement to think about what I said, and maybe he comes to the right conclusion and maybe he doesn’t, but the seeds are there. They just need to grow.

Valentin’s fist wraps in my hair. “Today was a long, difficult day,” he says in my ear as his hand slips between my legs.

I try to struggle away. He holds me tight, his powerful hands gripping my soft body.

“I don’t really care how hard it was,” I say, gasping as he teases my pussy over my panties. I’ve been caught twice already and stripped down to my underwear. His cock is so hard it’s like iron against me, and I’m practically dribbling down my thighs, I’m so damn excited.

“Yes, you do. You care greatly, because when I’m in a bad mood, I take it out on you.” He has me pinned face-down against the bed, bent over the edge. His hand spanks my ass hard as he roughly rips my panties down to my knees.

“Oh, fuck,” I moan as he spanks me then buries two fingers deep inside. I buck my hips, and he pulls my hair as he glides them in and out.

“Look at you, messy, dirty little girl. You fight and moan and beg and still when I touch your pussy, you’re dripping wet and begging for more. I love it when you struggle, and I love it when you finally give in and moan for me.”

“You’re such a bastard,” I say but inside my core is singing with need as he unbuckles his belt.

I take my chance. I launch forward onto the bed, and I nearly get away but he catches my ankle at the last minute. I kick out, aiming for his chest, except he catches that with his other hand and easily turns me onto my back.

His cock’s out and he climbs on top of me. I gasp, trying to twist, but it’s too late. He’s got me, and his big, swollen tip presses against my wet entrance, and he slides deep inside.

“That’s my fucking girl,” he moans and I’m so goddamn dead I can barely think. It feels like heaven as he fucks me, and I completely forget about our little game.

All I want is him. I’m his wife, I’m his kitten, I’m his malishka. I’m his everything. I want him deep inside of me, thrusting and growling and telling me how good I feel. I want him there sleeping beside me at night, and there in the morning, kissing me and petting me and treating me like I’m his queen.

My husband fucks me, and I come like an explosion rocks through my world. All my triggers pull, and I melt all over him.

Valentin’s not far behind. We’re both pent-up and this little bit of rough-sex theater is how we do stress relief. He finishes inside of me, and I wrap my arms around him, all pretense dropped as I kiss him and snuggle in close.

I love when he grabs me, pins me down, and fucks me like a beast. But I also love after when he wraps his big arms around me and holds me tight against him and reminds me that the game is a game, but this right here, this is real.

He kisses my neck and breathes into me. “I had a day today,” he whispers.

“I did too. I had a conversation with my cousin for the first time.”

He grunts and I can tell he doesn’t like that. “Were you alone?”

“Yes, but the guards made sure he was properly tied up and they kept checking on me.”

“That’s good. I don’t want to risk you.”

“I was safe.” I touch his cheek, considering. “But I have an idea about him.”

His expression darkens, which I didn’t expect. Normally, he’s all about listening to what I have to say, but right now he doesn’t look like he’s interested.

“Actually, I need to tell you something first. I should have told you the moment I came home, but you looked so fucking good⁠—”

“It’s okay. I basically jumped your bones and begged for it.”

He smiles, and it’s surprisingly sad. “Yes, you did, and that’s what I love about you.”

An excited shiver runs down into my toes. They curl, and I curl closer to him. “What do you need to tell me?”

He pulls away and leans against the headboard. I hesitate, then start pulling on my clothes, feeling weirdly exposed without his arms around me. He watches, not commenting, until I’m in sweats and a sweatshirt, and sitting cross-legged at his side.

“Your mother was engaged to my father,” he says.

And I think he’s joking at first. I smile at him, confused, but he’s not smiling back. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Before she left Baltimore. My family and your family were creating an alliance, and part of that was a marriage. The night my father met your mother for the first time, he beat her. It was apparently vicious enough that Aram decided he had to do something about it, which is why the Armenians killed my father. And it’s also why your mother left Baltimore. She ran from the Brotherhood with your father to make sure that she was never put in such a terrible position again. I’m sorry, I really am. I never knew before today.”

I feel like everything’s been twisted around. None of it makes sense, but as I run his story through my head, some things begin to click into place.

There’s my mother begging me not to be with Valentin. She was so convinced he was evil and dangerous, and I had just assumed that was because he was Bratva and organized crime. But now I realize it was personal.

She had first-hand experience.

“I always wondered why she left Baltimore. I mean, what really made them run away.” I wrap my arms around myself, hugging tight. “She said it was because she wanted to escape her family. Now I get why.”

“I’m sorry. I would have told you sooner, but I never knew. My father… he was not a good man.” Valentin’s face is twisted into pain. “If you despise me, I understand. I wouldn’t blame you.”

I sit up straight, surprised by that. “Why would I despise you?”

“My father abused your mother. He drove her from her own family.”

“No, my mother left her family because they tried to force her into a marriage she didn’t want. None of that is your fault, either way.”

“I understand that, but even still. That man was my father, and I’m still fighting a war that he started.”

I breathe deep and slowly blow it out.

All this happened because of what our parents did. His father hit my mother, and my uncle killed his father in return. Now Valentin’s continuing that legacy, trying to kill my uncle, while kidnapping my cousin, and basically burning everything to pieces around me.

I still don’t blame him. I can see how we ended up here, and none of this is his fault. It’s the sins of our parents forced onto us, and now we’re struggling to get out from underneath a trauma that was never meant to be ours to begin with.

We can keep going down that path. We can struggle, spit, scream, kill, and become like our parents.

Or we can do something different.

I lean forward and touch him. He stares at me, face softening. I lean in and kiss him gently. “You’re not your father, and you’re not responsible for what he did.”

“Thank you, malishka.”

“I mean it. We can be better, right?”

“I don’t know that we can.” He pulls me into his arms again. I lean my head against his chest, listening to his heart beat. It kills me that he thinks we’re trapped like this, when I feel like there has to be another way.

“Arsen hates Aram, maybe as much as we do.” I tilt my chin up toward him. “What if we use that? To end the war and move on with our lives?”

His eyebrows knit together. “How would that help?”

“I don’t know. Offer him something. Make him feel like he’s got purpose. I don’t know. There’s just got to be a way.”

Valentin lapses into silence. I hate when my big, gorgeous husband broods like this. The last thing I want in the world is for him to suffer. But we’re dangling over the edge, and this war can turn into a slaughter, or we can create a new path forward and find a way to avoid more killing and another generation of hate and revenge.

Sorrow fills me. Sorrow at what happened to my mother, and sorrow over how her life panned out after. She was sold to a bastard, and had to run away from everything she knew and loved just to have a chance at a normal life. Then the one person she was willing to give everything up for died and left her completely bereft.

I understand why she was willing to bankrupt herself to save Dad. They went through something I’ll never fully understand.

And now she’s back in that world, a hostage to her brother once again.

It makes me hate them so much, but it also makes me even more determined to do something about it.

Something a man like Aram won’t ever see coming.