Chapter Twelve
Livia woke the next morning with Gustav’s warm body pressed against her.
She sighed as a giddy flutter of happiness rushed through her.
She turned and found him awake. He didn’t smile.
He brushed her hair off her face with his fingertips, then leaned forward and kissed her deeply until she was restless and aching again.
He reached for a condom, and she took it from him, climbed on top of him, rolled it on, then positioned herself above him.
She traced the muscles of his chest and braced herself as she slid down his length, enjoying the exquisite relief of his length as he filled her, reveling in the way his chin tilted up and his jaw tightened and his eyes hooded in pleasure.
“Good morning,” she said in a voice husky from sleep and pleasure.
His laugh was a low rumble. “Yes, a very good morning.”
She began to move. His hands braced her hips, and she adjusted her position so his thick cock teased her in that perfect spot inside over and over, his deep thrusts driving her closer. When she put her hand between her legs to take her pleasure higher, his eyes grew dark with lust.
“Livia, you are going to be the death of me.” There was darkness in his voice, and she felt the truth of his words resonate inside her, too.
“But the path to destruction will be beautiful,” she whispered.
His hands tightened around her hips, and he thrust hard.
It felt as if her entire body went up in flames as she stroked herself one last time and fell over the edge.
Pleasure took over, and she collapsed against his chest as he continued to thrust. She heard his groan, somewhere between pain and pleasure, as his body tightened and his final shudders drew out wave after wave of pleasure.
She lay on his chest, his harsh breaths in her ear as a calm spread through her.
In that moment, she found herself imagining a future where her sister was not at risk.
Once her sister turned eighteen, would Livia be able to live her life together with Gustav?
What would it look like? She let a tentative version of this future stretch out in front of her, a life with this man she both knew and did not.
Who would likely never stop being a mystery.
Who’d held her hand in his as they walked through the forest, trying to understand each other’s pasts.
Whom she was trying to trust. Who made her body go up in flames each time they kissed.
But then reality crashed in. Did she really think that by day, he would seek revenge on his father and brother, then by night, he’d enjoy leisurely dinners by the sea with her?
Even in her fantasy, she couldn’t fit those two together.
Because even if her sister was safe, their problems ran deeper.
He was bent on detonating his vengeance, bringing down everyone in its range.
But that would include him, too. Livia knew too well the way revenge warped the person who carried it out, too.
Her parents had turned their desire to protect their family into their own version of vengeance.
Trapping them in an endless striving for power that had both warped their own vision of themselves and caused both Livia and Adele endless grief.
The same thing would eventually happen to Gustav, and his poisonous drive for vengeance would eventually damage her—and Adele.
So Livia pushed the heaviness of that future away and focused on the way his big hands rested on her back, holding her against him.
By the time they made it to the deck for breakfast, Livia was ravenous.
Her body felt giddy and alive, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had looked forward to a day the way she had started to look forward to days here on this boat, with Gustav, far away from royal courts and power struggles.
Gustav sat next to her on the soft cushions of the bench, and his hand rested on her thigh, a reminder of their connection.
“I have a few things to deal with this morning,” he said, gesturing to the laptop that a staff member had set up for him in the shaded spot under the table. “Then I would love to go for a swim, if that suits my wife.”
His eyes heated at those last words. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers.
“It does,” she said, then tilted her head a little and studied him. “I would love to check on my sister, too, but you have confiscated my phone. Are you willing to make my leash a bit longer?”
She said it with a hint of wry laughter, but he frowned.
“I shouldn’t have taken it away,” he grumbled.
She wanted to reply that too much power could make anyone into a tyrant, but she simply smiled and said, “Thank you.”
He disappeared and returned moments later with her phone.
He offered it to her, and she smiled. Then the home screen lit up, and that magical feeling that had kept the world at bay for the last few days was suddenly gone.
Adele’s name glared up at her. Her sister had left her seventeen messages, neatly stacked, and the one on top said, Where are you? ??? Please call.
Livia glanced at Gustav, and his face was stormy, as if he, too, had seen the name and knew nothing good could come of this. But he said nothing. She stood up and went inside the cabin, then called her sister. Adele picked up on the first ring.
“Where have you been?” her sister whispered. “I’ve been carrying a contraband phone on me all day in case you called. What happened?”
There were thousands of ways to answer that, many inappropriate, all complicated, and so she said, “I’m fine. What’s going on?”
“You haven’t seen the photos?” Her sister’s voice held a warning, and for one traitorous moment, Livia wished that she had not picked up the phone.
She wished that she had let the magic of her and Gustav’s honeymoon grow for just a little while longer.
Because now, in her sister’s voice, she could hear that they had run out of time.
The roads in front of them had already forked, and she had a terrible feeling she and Gustav were no longer on the same path. And never would be again.
“Tell me about the photos.”
“They’re of you two walking to the boat right after the wedding and you—” Her sister paused. “You look like you’re in love. But the headlines are all about a stolen bride. Here’s one— ‘The Bastard Spare Fools Crown Prince’s Fiancée and Betrays the Nation.’”
Livia froze in her seat, and it took a moment to find her voice. “I’m definitely a fool if I can’t tell the two brothers apart.”
“At least you’re not the traitorous fiancée,” added her sister, who was clearly forcing a little lightness into her voice.
“Not yet. What did Mother and Father say about this?” Livia asked softly.
“They’re upset, of course, but I’ve honestly been trying to avoid talking to them. I haven’t been home and don’t want to go. I’m just trying to figure— Wait. Someone’s coming. I have to go.”
The line cut. Livia stared at her phone.
“I’ll figure out something,” Livia whispered to no one. “I love you.”
And in those words, she felt the knife of sacrifice that love sometimes required.
She looked through the windows to the deck, where the moody sky was filled with layers of clouds, all threatening rain.
Gustav was no longer lounging. He sat up, his entire body rigid, his jaw tense.
He must have scanned the tabloids, too. It was then she realized how much he had changed over the last few days.
But now she saw it, when all traces of the softness were gone.
He was staring at his screen with that look of anger and determination, and a chill ran through her body.
He was going to choose vengeance, and she needed to walk away…
before she and Adele were destroyed by the fallout.
* * *
Gustav had let this charade of a marriage go on for far too long.
He had allowed himself to be lured in by the indulgence of Livia.
He’d let himself feel and want, the way he had years ago.
And then, he had gone off the rails after she left him.
He had played into his father’s ideas about his recklessness, his unworthiness of his position.
Gustav would never again allow his emotions to wreak havoc again.
And yet, as she came through the door and onto the deck, her eyes shimmering with fear and worry, all he wanted to do was to take her into his arms, to find a way to shut out the rest of the world again.
This instinct made him angry. Angry at his father for mismanaging the country’s finances and his brother for standing back and not intervening.
Angry at his father’s attempts to discredit him and their marriage.
Angry at Livia for making him feel vulnerable.
Angry at himself for foreseeing where this intimacy between them would inevitably lead and yet still falling into its trap.
He had been weak. And if he did not take down his father and brother and strip them of their power, they would go after him—and Livia—for the rest of their lives.
There was no way out of this except to go through with his plan.
“I assume you have seen the headlines about us,” she said, her voice, tentative and quiet.
He glanced down at one of the many messages from Henri Jacard. “Your father is on his way to the palace right now to discuss this.”
Livia’s eyes widened into something that looked like panic. “We need to find a way to de-escalate this.”
“Then we are in agreement,” he said, his voice milder than the emotions brewing inside him.
“Together, the three of us will present a united front to my father and demand that he step aside and become a figurehead king. With the money as a motivator, we will insist that he make a statement, taking the fall for this bad PR and admitting his own financial failings. Then, he can renounce the power of his position.”