Page 61 of Under Control

“Mama, you don’t owe him anything. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

“Karine-jan, go wait in the living room while I discuss things with your husband.” Mama’s voice is sharper now, the tremble gone from her hand. This is the strong, assertive woman I grew up with, the woman she was before my father passed.

“Mama—”

“Go,” she says sharply. “Leave him to me.”

I back away to the door. Valentin turns and stares, and there’s something in his expression. It’s almost apologetic, except he’s not the kind of man to ever admit fault or wrongdoing.

No, in his mind, this is totally justified.

And as I sit on the couch, fuming while they talk in the kitchen and feeling like a little kid banished from the grown-up table, I know he might even be right.

This is going to be a bloody and brutal war, and if he can get an edge from asking my mother questions, that’s worth the small amount of discomfort she’ll go through.

It could save lives.

But it still pisses me off. My mother doesn’t deserve any of this, and Valentin didn’t warn me about why he really wanted to come here. I thought it was to get to know my family better—and I suppose it is.

Only it’s not about me.

This is about my husband’s revenge and his fight.

They talk for an hour. I lose patience at one point and wander up into my old room. It’s barren and strange, and I barely recognize it now. I can remember sitting on my bed and picturing my future husband, but he never looked anything like Valentin, and definitely didn’t treat me the way my actual husband does. In my dreams, I’d marry a kind man, a gentle man, a man that could both provide physically and emotionally. Valentin is almost none of those things.

He’s a brute. He’s vicious and selfish. Yes, the sex with him is unbelievable, and there are moments of real tenderness and caring between us, but that’s all overshadowed by the darkness lurking inside of him.

And this ugly, violent drive to dominate.

When I come back downstairs, Valentin’s waiting for me. “Your mother said to leave without seeing her again.” He gently steers me to the door. “She’s tired but says to visit her tomorrow. I’ll arrange things, if you like.”

“You do realize that letting me come see my own mother isn’t exactly going to make me forgive you for this, right?”

He doesn’t seem bothered. “I’ll assume that means you want to come.”

Down on the sidewalk, I turn on him. Trash blows down the street, and the car’s idling for us beside the curb. I grab his arm, fingers digging into his muscle, and I’m all too aware of how big he is, how powerful he is.

“At least tell me you got something useful after all that.”

His expression doesn’t change. “Do you really want to know? It’s one thing to be my wife. It’s another to be part of my life.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, the war is going to be ugly.” He leans closer and pulls me roughly into him. I let out a surprised yelp. “You can let me shelter you and keep you away from the worst of it. There’s no need for you to involve yourself any more than you already have.”

“That’s not an option. They’re my family.”

“Yes, they are, but does that matter?” He stares at me, and I know what he’s doing. In his mind, this is his sick way of trying to protect me.

“What did Mama tell you?”

He lingers in the silence for a moment and lets out a sigh. He leans down and bruises my mouth with his, a kiss that lasts only moments, but it’s blistering and possessive. He pulls back before I can, and I’m too stunned to do anything but glare.

“Your mother is a clever woman with a good memory. She might not realize it, but I think she was a big help.” He turns to the car and drags me along with him. “Come, I’ll tell you some things about your uncle that I bet you never knew. Only you’ll have to be stronger.”

“Stronger?”

“It’s war time, and if you want to be thepakhan’swife, it’s time you acted like it.” He leans across the back seat and forcefully buckles my belt. His voice drops to a whisper. “And you are all mine,malishka. All of you.”

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