KINGDOM FALL

by A. Zavarelli

  Stillness meets his request, and the men all seem to regard him with lowered heads. I can’t make out their eyes beneath the masks, but I suspect they have been effectively put into their places.

  “Very well.” Alessio comes around me, his fingers settling on my neck possessively. “Let the coward stay silent and leave me to handle my wife how I see fit.”

  His wife.

  I should be bothered by what’s happening between them, but right now, those words are the only thing I can seem to focus on. I really am his wife, and he’s mine. Mine. I like the word way too much. That word comes with baggage, so many possibilities for heartache, but it also comes with hope. A hope that he will always protect me the way he’s protecting me now.

  He draws the chair closer behind me, taking his seat. His legs offer me shelter, and I focus on his warmth pressing against my sides as he starts to sanitize my skin. I’m wearing the choker Abella gifted me, and Alessio is careful to select the area beneath it, so he doesn’t have to remove it.

  “Relax.” He leans forward, his lips brushing against my ear. “I’ll be gentle.”

  I nod and dip my head forward, giving him adequate room to work. He presses the template against my skin, carefully peeling away the film before he turns on the gun. I’ve already seen the design, so I know his family crest is a shield bearing the Scarcello name. Behind the shield, dueling swords are exposed, while Laurel branches along the sides complete the finer details. It’s beautiful and simple.

  The vibrations of the gun seem to echo around me as he draws closer, and the needle contacts my skin. It stings, as I expected, but not unbearably so. I’ve been through worse, and I realize at this moment that I trust Alessio. His hand is steady and efficient, and I don’t think the entire process takes more than fifteen minutes. It’s over before I expect it to be, and then his voice reverberates through the crowd.

  “It is done.”

  Some men come to look at his work, but the rest remain at a distance, much to my relief. He doesn’t let them get too close, and I suspect he’s glaring at the ones who try, judging by the way they move back.

  He applies the salve and then bandages it before helping me up. I’m lightheaded from the process, swaying slightly as I rise to my feet. Alessio stabilizes me with his palm on the bare skin of my back.

  “Alright?” he asks.

  I nod, leaning into the support he offers. He stares out into the crowd, his face devoid of any emotion.

  “Let’s go.”

  Luca delivers us to Alessio’s apartment in Tribeca. I’ve only ever seen it from the outside, something I’ve yet to tell Alessio, so I’m not sure what to expect within. It’s a high-rise, with more guards from IVI waiting just inside. They greet Alessio with bowed heads, and I can see Abella wasn’t exaggerating when she said Sovereign Sons are like royalty.

  Alessio seems slightly uncomfortable with the formality of it all, and now I understand his amusement whenever I held my ground with him. He’s used to being treated this way. Most women probably wouldn’t dare speak out of turn in his presence. If there is one thing I’ve learned during my time with him, it’s that Alessio is not a man who wants a woman that doesn’t speak her mind. In fact, I think when I don’t, it drives him nuts.

  The private elevator delivers us directly to his apartment, and I follow him inside, watching as he removes his jacket and loosens his tie. This is the version of him I like best. The man the world doesn’t get to see.

  My eyes drift over the space, taking in the floor-to-ceiling windows and the beautiful view of the skyline. It’s bright, airy, and comfortable. I’m already tempted to sink into the soft gray sofa, but more importantly, what I really want to do is help Alessio out of his clothes. I’ve missed his touch desperately, but I haven’t tried to push him for more. Even though he’s married me, I’m aware he’s been grieving the loss of Gwen. I wanted to respect that by giving him time and space, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have hopes we could lose ourselves in each other tonight.

  “There are two rooms down the left of the hall.” He doesn’t look at me when he speaks, but his voice is notably distant again. “Take your pick. Make yourself comfortable.”

  With that, he leaves, disappearing into the hall and turning to the right. He doesn’t hesitate or glance back. The lines have been drawn, and he has retreated into his armor again.

  I clutch at my dress, tempted to rip it off as I stagger over to the sofa, trying to hold back my emotions. It hurts to breathe when I sit down, and yet I can’t help feeling stupid for it. What did I expect, really? That we’d come here, and he would forget all the walls he’s built around himself? But how could I have known? Alessio runs hot and cold at every turn. There is no consistency. Last night, he kissed me like he could drown in me, and today, he couldn’t hide his feelings when we said our vows. Now, he’s returned to the familiarity of his routine, determined to shut me out.

  I stand up and stare out at the skyline, reaching around to unzip my dress. For a second, I feel foolish for agonizing over the lingerie I’m wearing beneath it. I thought he would see it, and it would make him want me.

  I remove the straps from my shoulders and shimmy out of the fabric, letting it pool on the floor beneath me. The woman in the reflection of the glass is wearing a white bustier, a matching garter, and thigh-high stockings. I barely recognize her, and I know it’s because I’m not ashamed of my skin for the first time in as long as I can remember. We won’t get this day back, and I’m not willing to let it slip away because we’re both too scared to admit the truth. If Alessio wants to push me away, he needs to look me in the eye when he does it. He needs to tell me how he really feels.

  I move toward the hall, heading in the direction he went. It isn’t difficult to find his suite. The bedroom door is cracked, and when I peer through it, I’m surprised to see him sitting on the bed. His elbows are on his knees, head bowed as he turns over a velvet box in his fingers. He looks tormented by his thoughts, and I hate it. I hate that he can’t let me in.

  I press my fingers to the door, opening it softly. He looks up, his nostrils flaring as he burns a path over my body. I approach him the way one might approach a wounded animal. I don’t want to scare him away, and I know it doesn’t matter how much he wants me. I understand that now. It’s not a matter of want. It’s a matter of what he’ll allow himself to have.

  I stop in front of him, slowly reaching out to stroke his face. He closes his eyes, falling into stillness as I remove the box from his hands and set it aside. I climb onto his lap, settling against him as my lips hover over his.

  “It’s our wedding day.” I force the words out. “We only get one.”

  His jaw clenches, and he shakes his head. “You don’t have to pretend anymore. We’re married. It’s done.”

  I grab his face with both my palms, forcing him to look at me. “I’m not pretending.”

  My lips fall into his, and he digs his fingers into the flesh of my hips. There’s a long moment of uncertainty as I kiss him, and he doesn’t return it. He’s so rigid I have no idea if he’s going to take me or toss me away. Inevitably, he loses himself to the moment, coming unraveled little by little. His tongue sweeps across the seam of my lips, and then he invades my mouth. Our teeth gnash against each other, and he yanks me down over his erection, grinding my body into his. We tear at each other’s clothes, and I manage to get his shirt unbuttoned and his trousers unzipped, but he’s still struggling with the clasps on my bustier.

  “How do you get this fucking thing off?” he grunts in frustration.

  I pause to reach back and undo it, and when it falls loose, he tosses it aside and kneads my aching breasts in his palms. I reach down between us to stroke his cock, but he stops, lifts me, and splays me out on the bed. He yanks down his trousers and then moves his attention to the triangle of white lace between my thighs, glaring at the obstacle between us. He slides his fingers beneath the strings, dragging my panties down over the garter. My st
ockings and heels are all that’s left, but he doesn’t bother with those when he lowers his body over mine.

  Foreplay isn’t on the table. I’m already soaked for him, and he’s desperately hard for me. We’ve gone without for far too long, and it’s painfully obvious when he nudges his cock against me and sinks inside with little resistance.

  I arch into him, already on the knife’s edge of losing it. The tension from the day dissolves as he dips his mouth to my nipple, teasing me with his tongue before he sucks me in completely. He rolls his hips and thrusts as I cling to him, fingers dragging over his muscular ass, silently pleading for more.

  I ache with every touch, every lick, every deep thrust. I’m in awe of the way his muscles strain. The vein in his neck throbs in time with my heart hammering against my chest. His fingers tangle in my hair, and we’re both lingering on the precipice when he growls into my skin.

  “Fucking show me, Natalia. Come if you want it.”

  I don’t know what he means by that, and I can’t make sense of it right now. I’m already there. My breath hisses between my teeth as my head falls back, and my body starts to spasm as wave after wave of pleasure rolls over me. It feels so good I’m milking out every last second, and then Alessio tips his head back, growling as his cock begins to pulse.

  He doesn’t pull out. He doesn’t even try. He comes hard, emptying his seed inside of me. Instinctively, my fingers dig into his back, terrified that he’ll think it was a mistake. I’m convinced of it, but it doesn’t happen the way I think.

  When he opens his eyes, they are still dark and hungry. He’s not even remotely close to satiated, and neither am I. I want it to go on forever, and I’m relieved when he returns his lips to mine and settles his body against me. He’s still inside of me, and he’s still hard. Within seconds, we’re pawing at each other, and then he’s thrusting into me all over again. His fingers move between us, teasing my clit, and pressure builds in me as I squeeze around him. He fucks me for what feels like hours, drawing out every second. We taste each other. We touch each other. I stare into his eyes, and he stares back into mine. It’s intimate. It’s powerful. It’s fucking terrifying.

  We both come a second time, and again, he doesn’t pull out. I’m overwhelmed by my emotions, desperate to let them spill from my lips when he rolls beside me, and we gaze at each other. I take his hand in mine, reverently touching the band on his finger. He watches me, his eyes guarded but warm. I don’t think there will ever be a better time, so bravely, I use my hands to sign to him.

  “What does that mean?” he asks.

  I reach up and touch my neck as I speak, pushing past the pain. “It means I love you.”

  He goes rigid beside me, and I become aware that I’ve made a grave mistake. It seems to happen in slow motion as he sits up, turns away, and shuts down completely. He’s silent, his muscles tensing more with every passing second, and all I can do is watch.

  “Don’t,” he says finally. “Save yourself the heartache, Natalia. It’s a mistake to think this means anything more than what it is.”

  “You’re my husband,” I whisper. “I saw it in your eyes when you said your vows. Why can’t you admit it?”

  “You saw what you wanted to see.” He stands up and gathers his pants. “All I saw was a noose around my neck. I never fucking wanted any of this.”

  His words cut me to the bone. I’m shaking, barely holding it together, when he reaches down and grabs the velvet box he had in his hands earlier. He opens it, revealing the knife I brought to his bedroom to kill him. He tosses it onto the bed, and his eyes cut over me with a coldness so stark it physically hurts.

  “What just happened between us? That was the last time. You may be my wife, but I don’t want you in my fucking bed. So, the next time you think about coming to me, don’t.”

  29

  Natalia

  Hello, darling. I kneel in front of Nino to unzip his coat. Did you have fun?

  “Yes.” He bobs his head, his cheeks red from the cold outside. “Daddy let me get a hot chocolate after dinner.”

  My eyes crinkle at the chocolate evidence left behind on his face. I can see that.

  I dare a glance up at Alessio. He’s stiff, waiting for me to finish with Nino so they can get on with their night. Every other day we take turns spending time with Nino, shuttling him to activities, eating dinner together, and putting him to bed. We have a schedule that works to Alessio’s benefit because it means we rarely see each other, except for the breakfast table, where we no longer talk. So far, Nino hasn’t seemed to be affected by the tension between us, but I suspect it’s only a matter of time.

  My heart thumps pathetically as I wait for Alessio to return my gaze, but he doesn’t. He checks his watch and then retrieves his phone from his pocket, using it as a distraction.

  I return my attention to Nino, giving him a watery smile. It’s time to let you get back to your night with daddy.

  He presses his cold fingers to my face like he’s trying to comfort me. “You can come too, Mommy.”

  I nearly cry every time he calls me that. It’s a recent development, one that evolved naturally. Shortly after our return from New York, Alessio left the results of the DNA test in my room along with a handwritten note to tell Nino whenever I thought it was best. I didn’t wait long to have the conversation with him, but I made a point to say that I didn’t want him to feel pressured to call me anything he wasn’t comfortable with. At first, I think there was some confusion on his part, and there are still some details we’ll have to discuss when he’s older. But eventually, he accepted the concept on his own and shyly began to call me Mommy instead of Natalia. Even though the rest of my life was in chaos, it meant everything to hear those words from him.

  I wish I could stay with you. I sign to him. But tonight is daddy’s night, and I have to go Christmas shopping.

  His eyes move between us, and he seems to be considering something for a moment. I’m sure he knows something isn’t right. He’s already asked me why Mommy and Daddy don’t sleep in the same room like the parents on TV do. He’s made some other innocent observations too, and quite frankly, I’m tired of giving him excuses. He deserves more than that. I don’t know how to be a good example to him when Alessio and I are both miserable. This isn’t the life I wanted. My husband is so cold, I get a chill every time he walks into the room. Every day, my heart breaks a little more. It’s too painful to keep up this charade.

  Nino tugs on my sleeve and then signs to me. Can you buy daddy the present I told you about? The alien socks.

  Of course, my love. I nod. I will take care of it.

  “Okay.” He flashes a dimple. “Then I’ll see you later.”

  In the morning, I tell him. I won’t be back before you’re in bed. So, sleep well.

  “I will,” he says.

  I ruffle his hair and pull him in for a hug before releasing him. I love you so, so much. You know that, right?

  I love you too, Mommy.

  We say goodbye, and I don’t bother to glance at Alessio again, but I can feel his gaze on me as I walk out the door. Manuel is already waiting outside with the car, ready to deliver me to the shopping center.

  The drive is quiet, and I use the time to check my emails. A few weeks after Alessio and I returned from New York, I managed to land a part-time job working as a coordinator for some of the children’s services within IVI. I’ve spent my first three weeks in the new position getting my bearings, but so far, I love it. I have to admit I’m impressed by the range of mental health, education, and after-school programs on offer. The Society is ahead of the curve from what I can tell, but I already have some ideas I’m hoping to implement in the future. I’m working on more interactive programs for children like mindfulness and yoga. It keeps me busy when I’m not with Nino, and occupying my mind is the only thing saving me right now.

  We arrive at the shopping center, and Manuel escorts me inside to meet Abella. She greets me with a hug and a kiss on each c
heek and then steps back to look at me.

  You look like you could use a drink, she signs.

  I laugh silently, shaking my head. I actually could use a drink, but I haven’t told her yet that I won’t be having one anytime soon. I haven’t even told Alessio about the pregnancy test I took two weeks ago, but eventually, I’ll have to. Right now, I just can’t think about that conversation.

  I could use a meal. I reply. I’m starving.

  “Me too.” She reaches for my arm, looping it through hers. “Come on, then. Let’s get you fed.”

  We end up at the martini bar and cafe that’s become one of our regular haunts. Abella and I get our own table while Manuel and her guard watch from a few tables back. It’s still awkward, but she was right that I’d get used to it. Manuel has always been professional, and I feel safe in his presence, but he informed me that I’d have a new guard starting this weekend. Apparently, it’s customary for every member to have their own guard in families of Sovereign Sons. When I asked if it was because they were a target, Manuel skirted around the subject, but it was obvious that was the reason. It makes me nervous, but I’m grateful that Manuel looks out for Nino, and I’ll have someone to look out for me too. I know Alessio can take care of himself, and that brings me some relief.

  The waitress comes to take our drink order, and Abella orders herself a martini and a burger. I order a Sprite and fries with cheese dip.

  “That’s an interesting combination.” She wrinkles her nose. “Why aren’t you having a—”

  She stops midsentence as something seems to occur to her. Before I can say anything, her eyes drift to my stomach, widening, and she switches to ASL.

  No way. Are you pregnant already?

  I bite my lip, holding back tears as I nod. There’s no point trying to hide it from her. She’ll know anyway, and I trust that she won’t let my secret slip. If anything, her excitement is a welcome reprieve from the turmoil in my mind. I’m happy about this baby, but I don’t know if Alessio will be.