Page 1 of Arranged Control
Chapter 1
Alina
I’m not normally aspontaneous nuditykind of girl.
I like my nudity to be meticulously planned, scheduled, and practiced in the mirror for at least a few hours ahead of time.
But things have been strange with my boyfriend, Alexander. I haven’t heard from him in a few days, which is unusual. It’s making me nervous because our romantic life hasn’t exactly been the most vigorous and spicy lately.
I’d say we’ve been about as hot as a frozen potato.
Which is why, when I get a FaceTime call from him late one Saturday night after getting at least a dozen calls and texts completely ignored, I decide to do something out of character.
Because I want this to work. I’ve never been with anyone else before Alex, and he’s always so sweet. At least when he’s around. We met a year ago when he came into my thrift boutique looking for a new pair of jeans. He didn’t buy anything, but he was so handsome and charming that he left with my phone number instead.
We don’t have a traditional relationship, which is fine by me. I pay for dinners, movies, that sort of stuff, and he makes it up to me by cleaning my apartment and cooking for me at home (when he’s around).
Would it be nice if he got a job? Sure, yes, absolutely. He could probably play fewer video games and go on more interviews. But it doesn’t really matter. The fact is, I can’t have a traditional relationship right now because I can’t have a relationshipat all.
My family would kill me.
Or actually, they’d kill him, and I mean that very literally.
Maybe that’s why I’m willing to step outside of my comfort zone for a guy I’m dimly aware is not really worth my time or effort. It’s the threat of mortal danger—and the fact that he’s pretty much my only option at the moment.
It isn’t easy being the baby daughter of a criminal.
“Okay, Alina, you can do this.” I strip off my clothes and look at myself in the mirror. On the short side, thick blonde hair, a face that’s usually described as “cute but not sexy,” and a trim body that I keep obsessively fit. I basically don’t love any of what I’m seeing, but I made up my mind, and if I inherited anything from my psychopath of a father, it’s a stubbornness streak ten miles wide.
I spend ten minutes in the bathroom fixing myself up, put on my favorite pearl necklace, slip into some black panties, leave my tits very much out, and position myself on the bed.
“You better fucking like this, you worthless prick,” I mutter to myself. Nervous energy flutters through my chest as I check myself in the camera. The lighting is soft and decent, and myboobs look okay at this angle. I push them together and try pouting, but that only makes me look weird and porny while I’m going for… classy and hot? I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing.
All I want is for Alex to come back.
I’m hoping this does the trick.
I pull up his missed FaceTime call. My thumb hovers over the missed call. I chew my lip, wondering if maybe I shouldn’t just do this the normal way and skip the pearls and tits, but this is what men like, right?
I have pretty much zero experience to go on.
“Screw it.” I tap the screen and it starts ringing. I’m treated to the image of my own face and tits, my pink nipples slightly hard because it’s cold in my apartment and I’m nervous. It keeps ringing, and it looks like Alex is going to bail on me again. We’re going to play phone tag, and next time, I won’t have the guts to do anything like this. I’m about to end the call when it suddenly chimes and connects.
At first, the screen’s dark. I can’t make anything out. I try my best sultry smile and refuse to look at my face in the corner for fear of dying of embarrassment. “Hey, Alex,” I say, batting my eyelids a little bit. I’m laying it on a little thick. It’s honestly demeaning and pathetic, but I’ve come this far. “You there?”
The screen resolves. I make out the back seat of a car. I can see lights through the back window, and I’m pretty sure they’re moving.
The man staring at me isn’t my boyfriend.
Panic hits me. I can’t move. Did I dial the wrong number? But no, this is absolutely Alex’s phone. I’m completely positive. But that’s not Alex staring at me right now with a dark and burning hunger, almost like he’s not surprised that a topless girl just appeared on his phone. Like that happens all the time.
The man is handsome. Devilishly handsome. Light blue eyes, bordering on gray, with a slightly scrubby beard, graying at the edges. Older than Alex and much better looking. He’s dressed in a sharp black suit with the top button of his dress shirt left open to show off a tanned and muscular chest. Tattoos are visible up to his neck. His hair’s cut short and shoved back, thick and slightly wavy.
And my god. The way he’s looking at me. His wolfish eyes burning with a passion I never once saw from Alex. I can tell he’s looking at my tits and I feel my cheeks beginning to burn. Embarrassment fights off the panic, and I finally force myself to grab a pillow and use it to cover my naked chest.
“Who the hell are you?!” I finally manage to sputter.
The man’s smirk is toe-curling. It’s filled with pure confidence and a promise for more. Except I don’t even know what he’s offering. Nothing good, I’m sure of that.
