Under Control: A Fake Marriage Mafia Romance

Valentin’s quiet on the ride over to my mother’s house.

I’m not sure what he’s looking for right now. It was his idea to come meet my mother, even though I told him it was probably a bad idea. Still, he insisted, because he thinks that a husband should know his wife’s family, even if his wife’s family isn’t particularly fond of him.

I couldn’t really argue. I mean, what was I supposed to say?

Sorry, Valentin, my mom hates you because you’re just like her brother? Not exactly going to fly right now.

Which means I’m stuck feeling super uncomfortable as the car parks out front and Valentin gets out.

“I should warn you,” I say as we head up the stoop. I rack my brain for a nice way to say this. “Mom doesn’t exactly love, you know, guys in your profession.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised.” He pauses in front of the door and puts a hand on my arm. “I’m not here to upset your mother.”

“I know, it’s just that—” I look away, feeling uncomfortable. “She’s just got a bad experience of, you know, criminals.”

“Her brother is Aram Sarkissian. She ran from her home to get away from him. I’m not surprised.” He turns my chin back toward him. “It’s okay if your mother hates me. I didn’t marry her.”

“You married me.” I feel heat rise in my cheeks. “And now I’m kind of wondering what use I am to you. Since your whole plan with my uncle backfired.”

His smile is enigmatic and frustrating. “Let me worry about that.”

Mom answers the door and ushers us inside. I can tell she’s tightly wound and clearly unhappy with the visit, but she makes all the right noises and is unflinchingly polite to Valentin. She makes tea, offers him small cakes and cookies, and sits us down at the kitchen table.

“Thank you for the hospitality, Mrs. Vardanyan.”

“Call me Miriam,” mother insists and sits across the table from him. “You’re my son-in-law now, aren’t you? We might as well skip the formalities.”

Valentin seems amused by this and nods. “If that’s what you’d like.”

“I will admit though, this marriage, it happened very fast. And it seems convenient as well, doesn’t it?”

“Mama,” I warn sharply.

But Valentin ignores me. “That’s exactly right, Miriam. Your daughter and I didn’t get married because we are madly in love. Our marriage is an arrangement.”

“Yes, I see, one which my daughter has profited from immensely.” Mama crosses her arms and gives Valentin a hard look. “I know something about your kind of marriage. What do you get from all this?”

“I get a beautiful bride,” he says and glances at me. I feel like the room might combust at any moment. Mama’s not charmed by him, not even a little bit, which is what I expected.

“We got money,” Mama snaps. “You paid our debts. You scared off my brother, at least for now. I suspect that won’t last. But what did you get from my daughter, huh?”

“I got access to your brother, first of all,” Valentin says, his smile fading away. “And now I get access to you.”

Mama looks surprised, and I don’t blame her. That comment took me off guard too.

“What are you talking about?” I ask him.

Valentin’s head tilts to the side. He drinks some of Mama’s tea. “Very good,” he murmurs, nodding to himself. “But what I mean is very simple. Miriam, you know your brother. You grew up in the Brotherhood for many years. I want you to tell me everything you know about their organizational structure, about where they live, who they’re married to, whatever you can think of, even the smallest details imaginable. I want it all.”

Silence falls over the room. I stare at Valentin in shock. He didn’t mention he was going to do this, and now I understand why.

Because I would never have let him come here had I known.

“Absolutely not,” I speak up before Mama can say anything. She’s pale and her hand trembles slightly as she takes a sip from her cup. “No, Valentin, this isn’t part of the deal.”

“You’re right, it’s not,” he agrees. “But your mother isn’t stupid. She knows that at this point, her best chance of surviving is if I win this war. Don’t you know that, Miriam?”

“Stop it,” I snap at him and push at his arm. It does absolutely nothing to move him. “You’re scaring her for no reason. This is ridiculous. I thought you wanted to get to know her.”

“I do,” he says, staring at my mother. “Only not in the way you supposed.”

Anger rips through me. Mama hates her past and never talks about it, and I don’t want Valentin to traumatize her all over again just to glean some tiny bit of information that might help. More likely, he’ll get nothing, since Mama hasn’t been back to Baltimore in such a long time, and it’ll only make her upset.

He doesn’t care though. The selfish asshole wants to win his little war, and he doesn’t care who he hurts in the process.

“It’s fine,” Mama says, her voice sounding small.

“No, Mama, it’s not fine. Valentin, we’re finished here.” I shove my chair back and stand.

He ignores me. “You’re willing to talk,” he says to Mama.

“Not for you and not for myself.” Mama nods at me. “I’ll talk because you’re right, I want your little crime syndicate to win this stupid war. Once that happens, maybe then you can let my daughter go.”

Valentin leans back in his chair. A vicious smile spreads across his face. “I’m sorry, Mama, but that isn’t going to happen.”

“Miriam,” she says sharply. “You don’t get to call me that.”

“But you are Mama to me now, aren’t you?” He leans forward, and I take a step back from the table, deeply horrified and trembling with anger. “Tell me everything you can. You never know what might help.”

“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 the pakhan’s wife, 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.”