Page 71 of Arranged Control

I don’t know why that bothers me so much. In my head, Molchanie was some stoic, scary, quiet Russian man. I’m not sure what to do with this updated image.

But Molchanie’s gender isn’t exactly important.

“You talked about something. Would you just hold on and tell me what’s happening?”

He grunts at me, not even bothering to form words, and disappears into the master bathroom. The door slams in my face, and I stare at it, feeling lost, small, and confused.

Why is he acting like this? Clearly, something happened at that meeting. He doesn’t want to tell me, but that’s not acceptable.

Molchanie broke into my apartment and left me a note. Clearly, this has something to do with me and him, but I don’t know why.

Now he meets with her and doesn’t want to tell me anything?

I work myself up into a pretty solid rage by the time he comes back out. He barely glances at me before stumbling toward the bed.

“No, hold on, you’re not sleeping yet.” I grab his wrist, tugging him back. “Tell me what happened, Seamus.”

“Nothing happened. I met her. We talked. That’s it.”

“Right, I get it. You don’t want to tell me. But too fucking bad. Why are you being like this?”

His stare is hard. It’s vacant and distant. I’ve never seen him like this before, and it really scares me. “You’re safe from Molchanie. That’s all you need to know.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“She and I have an understanding.”

“The killings are done?”

“As far as you’re concerned.”

“Seamus!”

He pulls away. His lips press tight, and there’s a hardness to him. I don’t understand it. I thought we were making a breakthrough. Things were starting to feel comfortable and right with him. Not perfect—but it’s like the shape of a good relationship was starting to form, and I felt like we might be able to bring it all together.

Now it’s like he doesn’t know who I am.

“I’ll sleep in the guest room.”

“What? Why? Seamus, you’re being an asshole.”

“Too bad.” He walks to the door and shoves it open. “I need sleep, and I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“I don’t understand why you’re being like this.”

“You don’t need to.”

“You can’t just treat me like a child. I have a right to know what’s going on.”

He turns back, and the withering stare he gives me makes my feet go numb. “You don’t have the right to anything anymore. Leave it, Alina.” He storms off, and I hear the guest room slam shut.

I collapse back onto the bed. I’m trembling with confusion. What could have happened to make him act like this? Clearly, his conversation with Molchanie didn’t go well, but I don’t have any idea why it would make him turn on me.

It’s not right. I’m so angry I could scream. This isn’t the man I thought he was. I hoped we could have a partnership together. I was trying to compromise, and he was trying to meet me in the middle too.

Now I don’t know what to feel.

Except when I pull the blankets around me, loneliness fills my chest, and the far half of the bed feels too cold.