Page 3 of Vampires of Eden: Oliver
“I-I’m not,” I say, shaking my head and keeping my gaze down. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop sputtering, and do not be late this weekend—toanything. Not a single event. Do not disappear and do not wander off. You will not take a single picture and you willnotbe fantasizing or lost in your own ridiculous, silly thoughts. From Sunday and until the completion of this ritual next month, Alexander should be your primary focus at all times—have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, my lord.” Anxious, I clench my palms into fists against my lap. I close my eyes, willing this moment to be over. Wishing that I could be somewhere, anywhere else but at this table.
“I expect great things from you and this arrangement. Do not disappoint me.”
A small bell chimes—the cue from the viscount to begin dinner service. It is also the signal that my admonishment is finished. For now.
Members of the waitstaff enter the room. Their white shirts are a stark contrast to the dusky, navy and silver damask wallpaper surrounding us. Soon, there’s the unmistakableclinkof glasses and plates being set on the table. My ears detect liquid sloshing as it’s poured into glasses.
“Oliver?”
Cautiously, I glance up at the sound of the viscount’s voice. His prominent blue eyes meet mine, searching. They almost glow, contrasted with the warmth of his tawny, maple-brown skin. A trait that’s emblematic of his ancestral southern roots. “I confirmed our meeting next week with Dignitary Garibaldi. Will you still join me? You seemed excited about the opportunity to speak in Italian with her.”
I nod and speak slowly, careful not to stutter. “Yes, I will. Of course.” My eyes flicker over to Lord Blakeley. There’s less hostility in his gaze, but his expression is apathetic. Unimpressed.
We eat in silence. I stuff down as much as I can. As much as my nerves will allow, because I don’t want to be chastised for not cleaning my plate.
When dinner is over, I’m allowed to return to my half-empty room in my isolated tower. Everything that I forced down comes back up.
Eventually, I crawl into bed. When my body stops shaking, I fall into a restless and shallow sleep.
ChapterTwo
“Iheard that Lord Heartless has hired a designer for your wedding.”
The next day, a book of photographic techniques rests heavily in my lap.The Negativeby Ansel Adams. It is the only item to have survived the security raid of my room. The last time I looked at it, about a month ago, I was sitting on the floor and had absently slid it under the bed when I was finished.
My sister, Sasha, is lying on her stomach against the bed, facing me. She’s propped up on her elbows and has her chin resting in her palms. The lower half of her body is cast in a square of white light from the afternoon sun beaming through the window. It covers her like an incandescent blanket.
I’m not sure how to respond to her statement. It isn’t a question, so I shrug and shake my head. Confused.
“Ollie,” she says, smirking, “he didn’t hire a damn designer for my wedding. Or for Thomas when he got married. Lord Heartless really wants to show off because his special baby boy is about to make all our ancestors’ dreams come true. It’s going to be the affair to end all affairs—an extravaganza!”
For as long as I can remember, she’s referred to our parents as “Lord Heartless” and “Viscount Pointless.” Both designations are a bit cruel, but not untrue.
Lifting my head from the book once more, I sigh as I stare at her, vacantly. I don’t say anything, because she knows better. I don’t understand her intention.
She sits upright, shaking her head. “Oh, boy—”
“Sasha, I couldn’t care less about all of this and you know it. Having ‘influence’ and sitting on Eden’s governing board. Our family being part of the Royal Order. It’s… a silly, antiquated game of titles and I’m just a pawn in Lord Blakeley’s ambitions. We all are.”
My heart pulses in my ears as the room falls silent. Most days, I keep my feelings locked inside and do what they ask of me. I don’t say these things. Instead, I stay quiet, obedient and polite.
But as we draw closer to the end… to this arranged marriage that I’ve been groomed for since I was a child for the sake of Lord Blakeley’s aspirations and dreams… it’s getting harder to comply.
Lord Blakeley is becoming even more strict and hostile, and I’m depleted. I’m so tired of operating under these bizarre and old-fashioned rules.
Sasha narrows her eyes. Her hand darts out and pokes the arch of my foot through my sock. The quick sensation makes me jump and I pull my legs in and away from her.
“You’re so sad, Ollie. You only make things more miserable for yourself by thinking this way.”
“But, isn’t it the truth?”
“Yes,” she says. “It is the truth. You’re right. This is our circumstance. This is our life. So, why not try to make the best of it? We have to work with the materials that are in front of us, you know? Being depressed and resentful doesn’t help anything.”
Frustrated, I rub a palm against my scalp and muss my hair. “Sash, there’s nothing good about this situation. Look around you. Do you see what he did?” Exhaling, I drop my hand. Sasha stares back at me with blueish, heather-gray irises. They’re almost the same color as my eyes, except mine more closely mirror the bright blue of the viscount’s.
