Downfall: Kingdoms of Sin, Book #1

by Aster, Willow

  “Welcome to our home,” Titus interrupts, his voice booming across the room. “And welcome to our family.” He kisses my mother’s hand and gives my father’s a hearty shake. “We are so happy you’re here, and especially happy to have Eden as our beautiful daughter-in-law. She far surpasses my son’s dreams.”

  I look at Luka standing next to him and he doesn’t say a word. I wonder what his dad had to bribe him with to be quiet tonight since they always seem to be sparring.

  My father looks at Luka and Luka seems to realize he should be saying something. He jumps to attention and gives a low bow to my father. When he reaches my mother, she holds up her hand and he kisses it, telling her she looks lovely.

  When the whole awkward encounter is over and I’m sure the photographers have gotten their fill of pictures, we move to the dinner. We’re sitting at a long table, facing everyone, both in the middle of our respective parents.

  Occasionally, Luka will remember we’re supposed to look like the loving couple and he will initiate wooden conversation.

  “How is your salad?”

  “Fine.”

  “Have you had a good week?”

  “It was spectacular.”

  “Fantastic.”

  And then we’re at another lull until he comes up with new tactics.

  “There’s something on your lip…” He reaches out and tries to smooth it away with his thumb. I jump in and dab with my napkin.

  “I’ve never seen you in a dress like that. Did you pick it out?”

  I nod and that stumps him for another few minutes. His jaw ticks and it gives me a tiny bit of satisfaction to see his growing frustration.

  In one of our longer stretches of silence, there is a gradual dinging of the crystal that quickly sweeps across the room until everyone is holding their glass and looking at us expectantly.

  Luka stands up and holds his hand out for me. I stand up and he puts a hand on my waist and another on my cheek and kisses me like he’s consumed. I arch my back hoping to cut off the kiss, but he just leans in, his hand covering how deep his kiss goes. Flower buds are thrown at us as the crowd erupts in applause and cheers, a custom we don’t do in Farrow. I pull back, more stunned by that kiss than the flowers surrounding us. He looks just as stunned as I do and we both quietly sit back down.

  I don’t know what to make of him.

  When the music starts, Cece leans around Luka to make eye contact with me. “Why don’t the two of you dance a bit? Others will join after your first dance.”

  “I don’t feel like dancing,” I tell her, smiling sweetly. “But, thank you for the suggestion. Feel free to dance yourself.”

  Her mouth pinches together and she takes a long swig of red wine. “Don’t embarrass me, Eden. Get out there and dance with your husband and watch your insolent mouth.”

  I open my mouth to respond, but the look on her face is terrifying.

  “You like dancing with me, remember?” Luka says, holding his hand out.

  I glare at him and Cece but take his hand. When we get on the dance floor, he melds his body to mine and I shift woodenly side to side. He rests his forehead on mine and clasps me harder against him when I try to pull back.

  “It hasn’t been that many nights ago that you were desperate to get as close to me as possible,” he whispers. “You fell apart every time I touched you.”

  I push his hands off of me and he laughs, looking around like I’m playing a joke on him.

  “You’re making a scene. Dance with me and make it look like you want me as much as I know you do.”

  I grit my teeth and step closer to him, smiling at the photographers who are nearby. Inside I am fury and fire, but on the outside, I am serene and so very much in love. It’s sickening, this game we’re playing.

  The dance feels endless, but eventually it does end and other guests start dancing, giving us the freedom to sit back down. I greet the guests as they come by to meet me, one by one. When the cake is rolled out, I clap my hands and exclaim at its beauty. I dig into it when I’m handed a large slice and am rewarded by its deliciousness.

  “Oh my God, this cake.” I look over and Mara has her nose curled up. “It’s sickeningly sweet.” She pushes the plate away from her and folds her arms.

  Little piece of work.

  When a photographer comes to the table and asks if he can have some time with me for solo pictures, Luka stands up.

  “I’ll be coming too,” he says.

  Cece laughs. “Surely your bride can leave your side for five minutes, sweetheart,” she says loud enough for the whole room to hear. Or at least it seems that way. “It’s Juan Salvo, the world-renowned photographer. He will capture a lovely likeness, I have no doubt.”

  “I will be coming too,” he mutters under his breath.

  I get up, my dress floating as I walk. I do love this dress. And Luka hovers like a protective husband, his shoulder touching mine as he takes my hand. I try to let go, but he won’t let me. When I glare at him, he pretends not to notice.

  Juan is actually quite good-looking. I notice more as we walk into a brighter section of the ballroom, where lights have been staged for photo opportunities. He walks past those and out of the ballroom and we follow him.

  “Where are you intending to take these photos?” Luka asks, his tone biting. “In our bedroom?”

  “By the water, if that pleases you, Lady Eden,” Juan says, completely ignoring Luka. “When I saw your eyes for the first time, I dreamed of one day photographing you by the sea. You are very beautiful.” His accent sounds like music and I smile, swooning a bit inside.

  “Thank you.” I duck my head, feeling a flush coming on.

  “I knew I needed to be here for this,” Luka snaps.

  I turn to him. “That won’t be necessary.” I lean up and whisper into his ear. “We’re living our own lives, remember?” I smooth out his tie when I pull away and smile. “Thank you for escorting me, sweet husband. That will be all.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Juan grins when Luka stalks away. “He doesn’t look too happy. Are you sure you shouldn’t go after him?”

  “Positive. Let’s do this.”

  Juan is the consummate professional as he tells me where to stand for the best light and then starts snapping away. He shouts compliments as his camera clicks, but I don’t take it seriously. It’s what he does with everyone he photographs, I’m sure. When he lowers his camera and beams at me, I relax and smile back.

  “I am so happy with these. You are a masterpiece of color. That complexion, your hair…as I said, your eyes—”

  “If you’re done coming on to my wife, I’d like to take her back to the party,” Luka interrupts.

  Juan just smiles bigger. “If I were coming on to your wife, she would not still be at this party.” He laughs and Luka growls next to me.

  I roll my eyes. “I’m going back to the party…alone…whether anyone is coming on to me or not.” I poke Luka in the chest. “You’re behaving like a child,” I whisper-shout.

  “But I wanted to get pictures of the two of you,” Juan calls.

  I turn around and reluctantly walk back. “Please hurry,” I tell him.

  “That will depend on how well my subjects behave,” he teases.

  “He’s asking for a black eye,” Luka says in my ear.

  I turn to him, ready to give him a black eye and he’s still leaning down, so our lips brush against each other. I feel a jolt and lean back, but he’s leaning in and his lips are demanding more. Juan’s camera goes wild, and I tell myself that’s the only reason I’m kissing Luka like a woman obsessed. Not because of the magic power his tongue holds. Absolutely not.

  When my knees go weak, he breaks the kiss and looks at me, eyes triumphant. He smiles and my eyes narrow, ready to let him have it.

  “Relax your smile, Lady Eden,” Juan calls.

  I’d forgotten he was there and plant a smile on my face.

  “That’s it. Yes, perfect. I have the
shot.”

  Luka takes my hand and pulls me away. I look back at Juan and he’s watching us in amusement. He waves and I smile and let myself be dragged back inside.

  “We’ve done all we need to do at this party. Let’s go,” he says.

  “We can’t leave. No.” I smooth down my hair. It got slightly windblown outside. Luka’s looks even better, tousled and like perfected bedhead. “I need to see my parents. Everyone is safe. I think Alidonia was bluffing. They have the oil they want, the forced truce. Everyone is happy but me.”

  He grabs my arm. “What are you saying?”

  “I want out.”

  He shakes his head. “Impossible.”

  “I’ll find a way.”

  He looks like he’s about to explode, but what he does catches me by surprise much more than that: he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder and carries me out of the room. Explosive cheering erupts as we leave—everyone thinking we can’t wait until the night is over to go have sex.

  When we’re outside the ballroom, I kick and yell and hit.

  “You’re behaving like a child.” He repeats my words in a patronizing voice and I just about lose my mind.

  “Put me down!” I yell, not realizing we’ve already reached his bedroom.

  He puts me down all right, tossing me on our bed like a sack of flour. His bed, not our bed, I correct myself.

  I scramble to the head of the bed and try to get off, but he’s there, picking me up again.

  “If you don’t put me down and leave me there, I am going to lose it.”

  “Not until you agree to be still and listen.”

  “You’re not saying anything I need to hear,” I yell.

  “You don’t know that.”

  I still and take a deep breath. I’m so mad I’m going to cry and I really don’t want to do that. “I’ll listen if you don’t say anything stupid.”

  “That will be difficult, but I’ll try.” I can hear the grin in his voice and hate what it does to my heart.

  My foolish, lovesick heart.

  He sets me down and I stand in front of him, looking at his chest and waiting.

  “Did you read our prenuptial agreement?” he asks.

  “No. I figured all of this was already out of my control. Why?”

  “I looked into it further this week. It’s ironclad. There’s no getting out of it. We have to stay married for at least ten years. In that time, we will need to produce an heir. If we wish to divorce after ten years, we will have to do a year of therapy and only then could we have our marriage dissolved during the eleventh year. So…you can understand our predicament. We have a lot of time ahead of us.”

  I turn away right before the tears start to fall. I knew the agreement was probably something like that—it’s not really a surprise to me, but hearing him recite the facts so coldly hurts. He’s quiet, letting his words settle into me, I guess, and I’m grateful for the moment. Finally, I wipe my face and pray that mascara isn’t dripping down my cheeks when I turn around.

  “Let’s just stay out of each other’s way, okay?” I sidestep him and walk out of the room, shutting the door.

  He’s on my heels as I walk into my bedroom. “It doesn’t have to be like this. We were getting along well before. I don’t understand why that can’t continue.”

  “You can’t seem to decide what you want. One minute you can’t keep your hands off me, then you say you shouldn’t have pretended to have a normal honeymoon, then you leave without telling me where you’re going…now you want to go back to pretending? This is ridiculous, even coming from you.”

  He stares at me, blinking slowly, then starts pacing and running his hands through his hair. After a few minutes, he starts to back out of the room, not looking at me again. My body goes cold.

  He’s becoming quite good at walking away.

  I’ll have to work on my exit strategy, so when the next time comes, I’ll be the one walking away.

  He mumbles as he goes, and when he reaches his room, he slams the door and all chaos erupts.

  “Fuck!” he yells.

  I flinch every time there’s a new crash. What is he doing over there? Glass breaks and then there’s a long silence.

  I take off my makeup, still in a fog over the way this evening progressed. Luka’s voice echoing in my mind: There’s no getting out of it. There’s no getting out of it. There’s no getting out of it.

  My phone dings with a text and I jump, my heart hopeful—for what I don’t know. It’s my mother. I sigh and read it.

  Your father and I would like to give you a hug before we leave, but we don’t want to disturb you. The plane will wait for thirty minutes. If you get this, let us know where to find you.

  I’ll meet you by the pool in five minutes, I text back.

  I’m in lounge pants and a tank and throw on another light shirt. It’s almost midnight and the sounds of the party are dying down. I look both ways down the hall to make sure no one is around and hurry to the pool. My parents are there with their guards and I rush to them, hugging them both for a long time.

  “You’re adjusting to married life?” My mom pulls away first. She sees my tears and frowns, wiping them off. “Are you homesick?”

  “Yes. I mean, no, I’m not adjusting. Yes, I’m homesick. When can everyone come to see me?”

  “Jadon has more responsibilities these days. Perhaps you can visit in a few months,” my father says. “I signed a treaty with Titus tonight, Eden…you’ve done a beautiful thing for your country. Because of you, another channel has opened for our oil. We’ll have more workers with the money Titus provided. Families will be fed. Hundreds of lives changed, just like that.” He puts his hands on my shoulders and I feel the weight of the world on them. “It is all thanks to you…and your husband.”

  My lips tremble and I lower my head as the tears keep falling. Finally, I nod. “That helps put things in perspective. Thank you.”

  “I’m sorry we can’t stay longer,” he says. “We have a meeting arranged in a month, so I’ll be back then. I’ll mention a visit to Farrow with Titus then.”

  “Okay. Tell everyone I miss them. And that they can call me! Everyone has been so quiet.”

  “So much is going on at home.” My father doesn’t elaborate and a prick of fear runs through me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing you should concern yourself with, dear.” He gives my arms another pat. “Now, it’s late. Best get back to that husband of yours and get some rest. We will talk soon.”

  “I love you, Father. Love you, Mother,” my voice breaks and I try to hold it together for just a little longer.

  “We love you, Eden,” my mother says. “And we couldn’t be more proud of you.”

  I give them another hug and watch as they walk away before breaking into sobs that nearly tear me in two.

  I’ve never felt so alone.

  I’m not sure how I’ll survive this.

  Chapter Twenty

  Luka is leaning against my door when I get back. “Where have you been?” He dares to sound accusatory.

  “None of your business.” I motion for him to move and he only steps closer to me.

  “You’ve been crying. Were you with Juan? If he laid a hand on you, I will—”

  “You think I’d tell you after your little break from sanity?” I stare him down and he swallows hard. “Move, please. I want to go to bed.”

  “Are you okay?” he says, softer this time.

  “No. Now move, please.”

  He stares at me for another moment and with a long sigh, he moves out of the way. I go into my room and shut the door and it’s several minutes before I hear him shut his.

  I don’t even want to begin to guess where his mind is right now. I’ve given up trying to figure him out.

  * * *

  After a long night of tossing and turning, I finally fall asleep just before the sun rises. I’m sleeping hard when I hear a knock on the door and before I can respond, th
e door opens.

  “What—?” I’m lying on my stomach and lift my head, scowling at whoever would have the audacity to come into my room without permission.

  Luka comes in with a towel around his waist, hair dripping wet. He hands me his iPad and I take it reluctantly.

  “Could you not get some clothes on before coming in here?”

  “You’ve seen it all anyway. And I know you liked what you saw.”

  I flush and focus on what he’s trying to show me. We’re all over the Internet. Not the pictures Juan took, from what I can tell, but from the other photographers who were there catching the candid shots.

  “We look good together,” he says, standing over me.

  “Looks are deceiving, are they not?”

  He sighs. “Can we call some kind of a truce? This snippy, irritable side of you is not attractive. I already know I can’t deal with ten years, but it’s going to be the worst kind of torture if this is how you’re going to be all the time.”

  I feel a twinge of guilt, but it only lasts for a second. “You don’t get to ask anything of me yet. That has to be earned. I was foolish letting you in as much as I did and I won’t make the same mistake again. Lesson learned.”

  Once again he leaves my room in a huff and I just roll my eyes, done with his attitude. He has balls of steel and I’m learning I’ll need to step it up to keep up with him.

  I get out of bed and decide to go for a swim. I did my duty last night; I deserve a break today. I find a dozen swimsuits in one of my closet drawers. I hold them up, trying to figure out how they even work, finally trying one on. It’s all straps and very little coverage. This won’t do. I try two more and finally find a black lace bikini with Brazilian bottoms. I cringe at how little it covers, but it comes with black lace pants, so I throw those on, apply sunscreen, and wear a hat.

  When I reach the pool, it’s empty. I nearly do a dance right there to have it all to myself. I practice swimming and am happy that it comes back to me easily. I go underwater and get lost in my thoughts down there. All of my problems seem to float away when I’m surrounded by water. Eventually my stomach starts growling and I shoot up out of the water, smoothing my hair back.