CHAPTER 44: SILK, VOWS, AND SHADOWS

Eva’s POV

​The morning of the wedding arrived in a blur of satin, lace, and suffocating tension.

​A fleet of maidservants hovered around me, pinning up my long, curly black hair into an intricate half-up style, secured with delicate pearl hairpins. They fastened pearl earrings to my lobes and laced my heavy ivory gown tighter and tighter until my waist was sculpted to perfection.

​Lady Genevieve had stepped into the role of my main lady-in-waiting, standing by my side as the servants smoothed the sheer bridal veil over my face.

​Before long, we were inside the grand velvet carriage, riding toward the cathedral for what everyone in the kingdom called the grandest wedding of the season.

​I leaned against the velvet cushions, pressing my hand against my ribs. "I can barely breathe," I gasped softly. "I did not even know I possessed so much bosom until they tightened this corset."

​Genevieve let out a bright, ringing laugh. "The things we suffer for perfection! But you must not be so nervous."

​She reached for a crystal decanter resting in a wooden holder, pouring two small glasses of sweet berry wine. She handed one to me with a warm smile, raising her own glass.

​"To the soon-to-be newlywed," Genevieve cheered softly, tapping her glass against mine. "May you find the strength to survive the De Witt family."

​I chuckled, taking a slow sip. The warm wine helped soothe the frantic pounding in my chest.

​When the carriage pulled up to the grand cathedral, Genevieve stepped out first to adjust my train. As the massive wooden doors swung open, the murmurs of hundreds of high-society guests fell dead silent. Everyone stood to their feet.

​I took a deep breath, clutching my bouquet of white lilies, and began my slow walk down the aisle.

​My eyes moved forward, landing on Lucian. Standing at the altar with his dark curly hair styled back, his sharp blue eyes locked onto mine with a fierce, burning intensity. For a fraction of a second, I could have sworn I saw the ghost of a stunned smile touch his lips—as if my appearance had completely caught him off guard. Standing right beside him as the best man was Leo, looking striking in his formal tailcoat, though his jaw was set in a tight, unreadable line.

​The ceremony passed in a surreal fog of solemn oaths and sacred blessings. Before I could truly grasp the weight of it, the rings were exchanged, and the priest declared us husband and wife.

The celebration shifted to the sweeping, candlelit ballroom of the De Witt estate. The air hummed with soft orchestral music as the crowd parted to clear the floor for the couple's opening dance.

​Lucian stepped forward, offering his hand with practiced, aristocratic grace. I placed my gloved hand in his, and he pulled me into the frame of the waltz.

​As we glided across the floor under the gaze of a hundred onlookers, Lucian leaned down, his voice a smooth, quiet murmur near my ear. "The last time we danced, you were terribly bad at it."

​I kept my gaze fixed firmly on his cravat, keeping my steps light. "Someone special taught me."

​Lucian let out a subtle, skeptical hum, his grip on my waist tightening ever so slightly. "Are you not going to look at me, Eva?"

​"Why should I?" I asked softly.

​"Because everyone in this room is watching us," Lucian replied smoothly. "And if you keep staring down at my feet, they will begin to think we are not in love."

​I paused my steps for a fraction of a second, my heart tightening as I finally tilted my head up to look directly into his striking blue eyes. "Are we?"

​Lucian spun me around in a swift, graceful circle, his expression instantly hardening into something cold and distant. "Love is a myth, Eva. I told you that before... but you either cannot remember, or you simply choose not to believe it."

​"It is not a myth," I countered, my voice firm despite the crowd surrounding us. "You simply do not know what love is. Why marry me if we are not in love?"

​Lucian looked down at me, a bitter, shadowy glint in his eyes. "Because I did not want to marry Genevieve."

​"And I agreed to help you?" I asked, testing his words.

​Lucian remained silent for a long moment, his gaze searching my face before a faint, unreadable smirk touched his lips. "That is one way to put it. We only have to be married for a year at most... so enjoy the marriage to the fullest, my wife."

​The final note of the waltz resonated through the grand hall. Lucian instantly dropped his hand from my waist, offered a polite, hollow bow for the applauding crowd, and turned on his heel—leaving me standing completely alone in the center of the ballroom floor.

​I watched his tall figure disappear into the sea of nobles, my chest tight with sudden, burning clarity.

​He is hiding the truth, I thought, my jaw clenching under my veil. I might have lost my memories... but I certainly have not lost my dignity. There is no way I would have ever willingly agreed to marry a man I do not love—especially not a man like Lucian.

Lucian’s POV

​The carriage rolled smoothly down the cobblestone streets of the estate grounds, the quiet rhythm of the horses' hooves cutting through the dark, quiet night. Beside me, Eva sat lost in her own thoughts, her white lace veil draped over her shoulders like a phantom memory.

​We were husband and wife now. By every expectation of society and duty, I was supposed to escort her to the bridal suite and spend the night in her bed.

​Instead, I raised my hand and signaled the driver through the small partition. "Stop here."

​The carriage ground to a halt beside a secluded, ivy-covered stone lodge tucked away on the outer edge of the De Witt lands. I didn't look at Eva as I opened the door and stepped out into the crisp night air.

​"Return her to the main house," I instructed the driver coldly, ignoring the silent, questioning look Eva threw my way as the carriage pulled back onto the road and disappeared into the shadows.

​I unlocked the heavy oak door of the lodge, stepping inside and locking it firmly behind me. The room was warm, lit by the faint, flickering embers of a dying hearth fire.

​I unbuttoned my heavy tailcoat, tossing it onto a leather armchair, followed by my cravat and shirt. Straining against the suffocating weight of the day, I stood in the dim light in just my dark trousers, resting my hands against the wooden mantelpiece.

​"Miss me?"

​Out from the deep shadows near the window stepped Miss Bella. Her dark eyes sparkled with a dangerous, intoxicating warmth as she stepped into the firelight, her soft velvet dress whispering against the floorboards.

​"You have grown into such a handsome, striking man, Lucian," she murmured softly, her voice smooth like velvet.

​She stepped close, her delicate fingers trailing up my bare chest, tracing the line of my shoulders. The touch sent a familiar, dark shock straight down my spine.

​I caught her wrist, holding her gaze with a heavy, hooded look. "And you are certainly still as captivating as you ever were."

​A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips. "Shouldn't you be with your new wife, my lord? On your wedding night?"

​"Don't tease me, Bella," I rasped, my voice dropping into a low, husky growl. "Don't make this complicated."

​She let out a soft, breathy laugh against my lips—and I closed the distance between us, pulling her into a harsh, possessive kiss.

​The heat in the room spiked instantly. She wrapped her arms around my neck, deepening the kiss as I backed her against the edge of the large wooden desk. My hands moved urgently, pulling the silk ties of her dress down her arms until the heavy fabric pooled at her waist.

​Every lie, every secret, and every dark thread of control I had kept tightly wound all day snapped completely. I lifted her onto the desk, my hands tracing the curve of her thighs and waist, pulling her flush against my chest as her head tilted back, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

​As the cold night outside washed over the estate, the shadows of the secluded room swallowed us whole into an intimate, secret chaos.