Page 49 of Prince of Control

It’s hard to imagine anyone else could hold a candle.

Still, am I going to pass up what might be my only chance to get out of this lifelong prison for good sex?

“Thank you for offering to help. I appreciate your concern. But I don’t need to be rescued.”

“You hesitated before you answered. Are you afraid, Lara?”

I suddenly feel dizzy. The bathroom swoops around me. Am I afraid? I certainly was. My dad seemed afraid–which terrifies me.

Yes, I’m afraid. But there’s also a kernel of hope starting to germinate in the center of my heart. Some foolish piece of me wants to believe I might find love here in a monster’s arms. My interest has been snagged enough that I don’t want to run. Not anymore.

Maybe I’ll change my mind, though. Maybe I’ll find out all the horrible things Ravil Baranov and his son have done and wish to run as far and fast as I can.

Or maybe this arranged marriage will save everything, as my dad seems to believe.

“No, I am safe. But I’ll let you know if that changes.”

“Lara, you don’t sound safe–”

“I’ll let you know if that changes,” I say firmly.

He stops trying to argue. “Where exactly are you? I’m coming out there. I need to see with my own eyes that you’re not a prisoner.”

I think of the blood on the table at the bar today. What would Baron do if my ex-boyfriend showed up with the intent to steal me away?

Something horrible, I fear.

He may be safe for me, but he’s not safe for the men who want me.

I try to keep the urgency out of my voice by forcing a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not a prisoner. I also don’t want you to come. Like I said in my text–I’m married now. I can’t see you anymore.”

Brash is silent for a moment. “Promise you’ll call if you need anything?”

“I promise.”

“Okay. Good luck, then. I hope to hear from you.”

I hope he doesn’t. That would mean that things had gone horribly wrong here.

“Goodbye, Brash.”

I end the call with a queasy feeling in my belly.

I hope to God I made the right choice.

Baron

I go on proactive mode for the party, calling Edgar, the Whisper Fire Marshal, between my morning classes to let him know we’re having a party and ask if he wants to inspect our alarms to make sure we’re up to code. Baranov house made a generous donation and volunteered student labor for their chili cook-off fundraiser last winter, so I have some collateral to draw on.

Still, there’s an impatient edge to his voice. “I inspected last year. Has anything changed?”

“Nope, just want to be sure. We’ll use a counter at the door Friday to make sure we don’t go over-capacity.”

“Okay. Anything else?” He still doesn’t know why the fuck I’m bugging him, so I just come clean.

“I’m going to be totally honest with you, Edgar. We heard one of the other society houses on campus was going to try to shut down our party, so I’m just trying to anticipate any direction that might come from.”

“Ah. I see. Well, I’ll bear that in mind if I get any calls, but we’ll still have to respond if we do.”