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Control

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Chapter 37: Control (Evie's POV)

Before he could even respond or move closer to me, I took a step back and sat on the bed. "You know what, it's fine. I'll just wait till it's all dry and then I can change myself." 

He watched me for a beat, his brows furrowing. "You don't trust me?" 

"What?" 

"Do you really think I would try... anything? Do you think I would do that?" 

"What? No, Rowan..." I laughed, staring back at him. "I just don't want either one of us to feel uncomfortable." 

"Are you comfortable in that saree?" 

I bit my bottom lip, trying to laugh at the way he said 'saree'. He said it right but it was just too cute hearing him speaking just a word of my language. "I don't think my comfort is any of your concern," I smiled, holding back a giggle. 

"I think my wife's comfort is very much my concern. If you want help—" 

"But I don't—" 

He cut my laughter short. "If you want help, I want you to be able to ask me, Evie." The way he spoke those words made me think he wasn't just talking about helping me change. "With anything," he added quietly. 

I paused. "Where is this coming from?" 

"You like to think I'm always against you. You like to prove to me that you don't need me, that I can't help you, that just because we're married on paper only, we should keep a distance. This isn't real, I know that too and I don't need you to remind me over and over again," he said calmly. 

"I don't remind you," I shook my head. "I remind myself," I mumbled. "And I'm not the cynical one here." I regretted it the moment the words slipped my mouth. I stood back up, cursing under my breath. "Rowan, I didn't mean that..." 

"You did," he nodded. "And that's fine. It's true. I am cynical. After all, I have every reason to be. I've had people use me for their own interests, Evie. I know by now that you, my dear wife," he said, stepping closer to me, "are not one of them." 

I laughed dryly. "That's nice to hear considering I married you for money." 

"You married me because I asked you to. Because I needed you to." 

I smiled up at him. "I think you're right. It does sound better that way." 

"Hearing me admit I needed you?" 

I hummed, nodding in response. "I still don't get it. You didn't need me, you needed a wife. It could have been anybody, any woman you wanted." 

"Then let's just say I wanted you." 

My eyes narrowed. "I think Nate wanted me for you." 

"Maybe Nate knows me better than I know myself." 

"Nobody knows you better than you, Rowan." 

"That's not true," he shook his head, reaching forward and unpinning the drape of my saree. It still sat on my shoulder independently but I had pinned it down for safety. 

"No?" I asked as he took a step forward, forcing me to take one back before he reached around me to leave the pin on my nightstand. 

"No. You do." He straightened up, staring down at me. "You know me better than I do." 

"What makes you say that?" 

He shrugged. "Just a feeling." 

"Just a feeling," I repeated, feeling my heart race a little faster, pound a little harder. 

"Are you sure you don't need my help? Am I dismissed for the night, Mrs. Volkov?" 

I chuckled, glancing down at my hands. 

It's dry. Completely. I just don't want him to go yet. But this is wrong. 

"Yes, you are, Mr. Volkov. It's dry enough. I'll manage," I offered him a smile. 

"Then I'll wait." He welcomed himself to sit on the bed. I watched him in surprise. "In case you need me," he clarified. 

I paused and then nodded once before going into the bathroom, leaving the door open as I stood at the sink and dusted all the dried Mehendi off, scrubbing at my hands until every bit of it was gone. I glanced at myself in the mirror and was surprised to see him standing at the door, watching. 

"I thought you'd wash it," he mumbled, watching with curiosity. 

"I can. But it leaves a darker stain without that," I explained, staring at him in the mirror. "You seem to be very curious about my culture, Mr. Volkov." 

"I am," he sighed, stepping forward. 

My breath hitched and I froze in all my movements as his front pressed against my back. 

He reached around me, taking my right hand and scraping whatever remained off for me. I stared at my hands, his hands as they moved around mine before he let go of one and latched onto the other. As he finished, his arm trailed up my arm gently, stopping where my bangles ended. I heard a sigh I wasn't meant to as he took a step away from me. "Goodnight, Evie." 

"There's only so much I can do, Rowan," I said, following him into my room. If I didn't say it now, I would never be able to. He couldn't keep pushing like this, knowing I was bound to cave in. 

He stopped at the door and turned back around, walking back to where I stood near the bed. "What do you mean?" 

"I'm your wife on paper, I'm your wife for an audience. Shouldn't we keep it that way?" 

"Why? Scared you'll fall in love?" 

Precisely. 

"I'm not joking." 

"It does scare you," he stated, "it scares you to get too close to me. It scares you to want me." 

"No. It scares me that we're losing sight of our goal here." 

"What truly terrifies me is thinking of the future, Evie. Nothing in my life has ever been constant, has ever been stable. You know that." 

I nodded softly. 

Things just never sat right for him. Whether it was school or his grandfather's health or all the pain from his past, Rowan has never been truly happy in all the time I've known him. I thought going back to Russia to study might change that but he came back even more jaded, warier of every person around him. 

But then... What should I do? Let him walk over my heart? Wouldn't it be better if I saved myself that heartache? Wouldn't it be better if I told him to just stay away? That would leave no difference between us, I'd be just as cold as him. And that isn't me. 

"Except me," I finished for him, reading the words in his eyes even if he refused to say them out loud. "That's why you chose me," I said as the reality of it all hit me. "I'm your constant star," I teased slightly, a grin tugging at my lips. "I've always been there." 

"I went off to college for four years, Lyubov." 

"You certainly kept me in your memories." 

He chuckled, dropping his head to glance at the distance between us. 

"Say it, Rowan," I demanded. "You picked me because I know you better than anybody. Because I stuck around." 

He stared at me, amusement swirling in his eyes. "You truly are my constant star. You did stick around, you're right." 

"And I always will, Rowan. You should know by now that I'm not against you and I don't think that way. You've inclined yourself to doubt people." 

"Then you should know by now that I've never truly doubted you." 

"Nor have you ever let me in." Moving away with a soft exhale, I walked into the safety of my closet and began picking out pajamas. I laughed, walking back out, dropping my clothes on the bed, and then moving to the vanity, taking the bangles off. "You know, the rare times I ever pictured my future, I always imagined you in it, just not like this. Clearly though, as fate would have it, here you are today in the form of my contracted husband, so..." I said, pacing back to the bed and picking up my clothes. "But I figured you'd be my boss one day. I thought we'd always fight and bicker and argue the way we still do. I've never met anybody who riles me up the way you do." 

I'm rambling. 

"You're cute when you're nervous, Mrs. Volkov," he teased, watching me with delight. 

I laughed sarcastically. "You do enjoy my misery, don't you?" 

"Perhaps I'm learning to enjoy you." 

"Perhaps," I smiled. "Are you waiting on me? I'm going to change." 

"Meet me downstairs," he said suddenly before explaining and the look of confusion on my face. "I'll cook tonight. We both haven't eaten." 

"You will take control of the kitchen? Should I be worried?" 

"I'll let you be the judge of that. But you should know, I'm very good at taking control of things," he smirked at me. 

"You are a control freak," I nodded. 

"Yet you seem to be the one thing I can't control." 

"The one and only," I grinned, taking a curtsy. "Give me ten minutes and I'll be there," I chuckled. 

"Five," he demanded on his way out. 

I sighed, moving into the bathroom. I didn't want to think about it, didn't want to face the music. Slowly, little by little, I was losing hold of myself. I wanted Rowan. I liked Rowan. I couldn't understand how that happened or what tricks he pulled but I really liked him. He, dare I say it, had my heart. 

Once I was changed and went to wash my face, my eyes got caught on the sindoor coloring my scalp. I left it on. 

Rowan was my husband, in how many ways, I didn't know. But what I knew was that I didn't want to ruin something that could be without even giving it a chance to happen. I didn't want to rush into anything, didn't want to force anything upon either one of us, I just wanted to see where things would lead us. Even though I had a feeling it wouldn't end well for me. Deep down, I hoped he would prove me wrong but I wouldn't know it till I tried it. 

I reached downstairs with my hair pulled up into a bun, a simple black satin set with shorts and a matching camisole. "I don't smell anything burning yet, surprisingly," I said, walking over and sitting on the barstool. 

"And you won't," he said, glancing at me with a smile on his lips. "I know my way around a kitchen." 

"What is Chef Volkov preparing for me tonight?" I made my way over, helplessly staring at him. 

He looked at me. "Butter chicken." 

"No way do you have the supplies to make butter chicken," I laughed in disbelief. 

"Sure I do. It only takes forty-five minutes. An hour at most," he shrugged, "and I make it often." 

"You like Indian food," I remembered, thinking back to the first time the Volkovs had dinner at our house. "I should remind you, it's two in the morning here." 

"And it's a Friday night. With no work tomorrow and nothing better to do, why shouldn't I make butter chicken?" 

"By all means, go ahead," I grinned, going back and sitting on the barstool, watching him move around the kitchen with ease. 

He looked so calm, so content being in his apartment cooking at two in the morning. With no one to respond to, no one to bother him, no one to hurt him. I rested my arms on the table and put my chin down, my eyes following his movements. 

He was still wearing his clothes from tonight but with the jacket and tie discarded somewhere now. His sleeves were rolled up, his shirt had a few loose buttons too. 

I had no control over my heart anymore. It was all his, what matters is what he chose to do with it. 

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Chapter 37

I was about to make them kiss this chapter yk but then I was like nahhh the slow burn has to burn doesn't it lol

next chapter: mystery