Page 51 of Love Without Control

“We, uh, o-okay,” Eden stuttered before composing herself. “We already know where the best bakery is, but we’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

After a quick hug between the women, the couple left, and Eden whirled on me. “What was all that?”

“All what?” I asked innocently.

“Babycakes?” Then she lowered her voice and repeated my words back to me. “All the newlywed things.”

“She started it,” I tattled, pointing at the closed front door like the mature adult I was. “What was I supposed to say?No, we’re refraining from sex during our honeymoon.”

Eden let out a long exhale. “I guess that would sound stupid.”

I took a step toward her until we were only inches apart and lowered my voice. “I’m never getting married for real, but if I did, I can promise you, the honeymoon would be the opposite of abstinent. My wife wouldn’t be able to walk properly for weeks when I was done getting my fill of her.”

She lifted her chin, though I noticed she took a half step back to put more space between us. “Good thing we’re not really married then. I like having full use of my legs.”

A Grinch-like smile crept across my lips. “You’d be surprised how willingly a woman would give up the ability to walk if the dick was good enough.”

Eden’s nose crinkled, and she turned to stalk out of the living room, tossing over her shoulder, “You’re a pig.”

“But I’m not wrong, Wildcat,” I called back. “Make sure to limp a little if you see Mimsy tomorrow. Wouldn’t want her to be disappointed in my abilities.” That comment earned me a middle finger from Eden, but I was pretty sure I heard her chuckle.

Just a little.

Chapter 17

Thesunwasjustcresting over the horizon as I sat on the back veranda with my phone in my hand. Now that I had a cell and access to the internet, I typedEvie Bouvierinto the search engine, and my mouth dropped open at the number of results that popped up on my screen.

Now I understood what Dane was talking about when he said my abduction was “high profile.”

Tapping one from a national news site, I watched a press conference done shortly after I’d disappeared. FBI Special Agent Iris Loyola recounted what they knew, which wasn’t much.Evie Bouvier has disappeared. No, we’re not ruling out the possibility of human traffickers. Yes, we are exploring all possibilities. Blah, blah, blah.

When she was done, my older brother, Auburn, spoke passionately, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the sides of the podium, and a tear slipped down my cheek.I love you, big bro. I’m here. I’m okay. And I miss you.

Even after watching the press conference twice, I couldn’t have told you what Agent Loyola looked like. My eyes were focused on my family lined up on one side of the stage. I could tell Auburn was trying to be the strong one, but I could read the pain in his blue eyes that all three of the Bouvier offspring had inherited from our father.

Looking at my dad almost killed me. He looked at least ten years older, his handsome face haggard, and I had only been gone for weeks. My mother looked like a million bucks in an expensive white suit. Of course, she was dressed to the nines since there were cameras present, though she did dab at her eyes with a starched handkerchief a few times. Might have been faking it. Who knew with her? She was so cold, it was hard to tell.

But Monty, oh, my sweet little brother, Monty. The absolute misery etched on his face had the tears coming fast and hard down my cheeks.

Auburn, as the oldest, was the serious one, president of everything in high school. I was the quintessential middle child, the loud one who lived to make everyone around me laugh. Monty was quieter, more sensitive. He was a football player—and a damn good one—but his passion was drawing.

The three of us were going to run our family’s business as a team. Whenever I could get out of this mess I found myself in.

I clicked on another link, and my five friends appeared on-screen. They were being interviewed as a group, Juliette and Arya in the front with Madalynn, Emersyn, and Holly sitting on slightly higher stools behind them. The last picture we’d all taken together was projected on the wall behind them, and I almost didn’t recognize myself standing with my friends in that lilac swimsuit. I’d grown so accustomed to my newEdenlook in the past few weeks.

Juli was taking the lead, doing most of the talking in her sweet Texas drawl. She recounted the creepy guy who had been trying to give us drinks and wondered if he could have had something to do with my disappearance. Searching my mind, I tried to picture the man’s face, but it had been too dark to see clearly. Could he have been Ethan, one of my kidnappers? The body mass was right, so… maybe?

Didn’t really matter anyway since Ethan and Felipe were both dead now. Damiano’s face that night, so cold when he stared down at the two dead bodies, sparked in my memory, and I shivered. I realized now I’d probably been in shock; otherwise, I definitely would have freaked the hell out.

My attention was drawn back to the screen when the interviewer said, “I’m sorry, Holly. I didn’t hear what you said.”

The camera zoomed in on my friend’s face, and twin tears snaked down her pretty cheeks. “I said it was… it was all my fault. I-I should have gone with her to the ice machine. I should—” Her comment was cut off by a sob that shuddered her entire body, and I shook my head back and forth.

“No, Holly. It wasn’t your fault,” I whispered to the phone. “I was the stupid one, going outside by myself. It wasn’t your fault.” But she continued to cry, her plaintive wails of pain stabbing me in the heart as Emersyn wrapped a comforting arm around her.

“Fuck,” I muttered, clicking out of the video, unable to watch it for even a second more. Then, like a dummy, I tapped on another one. My dad was being interviewed by the hosts of a morning show, looking somber in a black dress shirt and no tie. My heart ached to reach out and wrap him in a huge hug.

I watched my picture appear on the lower half of the screen as the hosts asked him questions about the investigation. The phone number for a tip line scrolled constantly across the bottom.

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