Wrecked King ⚜ The Elite's (Indian Mafia Romance) ⚜ 18+

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Naina

London

"Aryan come on finish your breakfast or you'll be late for school," Vikram scolds Aryan.

I can hear them as I descend the stairs. A smile tugs my lips. This is the normal morning scene.

I make my way towards the 'Pooja ghar' or the temple within the house. My smile broadens when I see 'Khanaji' waiting for me. Removing my shoes outside the temple I step in ringing the bell above the head. 

"Look," I talk to Khanaji "Thomas picked fresh flowers from the garden."

I'm always grateful to Thomas for plucking the flowers for my pooja.

I remove the dead flowers from yesterday's wash my Khanaji's idol and proceed to worship him. Lighting the oil lamp I say my prayers exiting the temple.

I arrive in the dining area. Vikram is sitting on the head chair and to his left Aryan is plopped his tiny legs dangling from the chair. His little hands grabbing the bread and he's sucking the mango jam off from his fingers.

Vikram is looking devilishly handsome as always in his black shirt, black waistcoat, and black suit pants. The blazer is hung on the chair. The fabric of the shirt stretches on his broad shoulders his muscles constricting with every move. 

"Good morning," I greet them as I walk towards them.

"Mawrrning," Aryan greets giving me his best toothy smile and I ruffle his hair. Oh, he's such a bundle of joy especially when he's eating his favourite mango jam.

"Morning," Vikram greets me halting with his actions of spreading butter on bread. His gaze rakes over me nothing affectionate but respect as I sit on the right side of Vikram.

This has somehow become a routine over the past few days.
If I count, two weeks.
After our marriage, we departed for London after completing all the rituals. Vikram is settled in London he visits India occasionally. I never thought I could be leaving my country. I am still not adopted to London or this house or should I say villa. There's a forest behind the villa which is off limits. Well, not completely. But you can go in there when you are riding a horse.

Villa screams Royal from every nook. Of course, it will; after all, I'm married to the King. Being the Princess I should be accustomed to the wealth but I wanted an normal life. I sigh. Lets not go there.  Even Aryan's school name is The Royal Elite's. It's a prestigious school for the Royals and Elites.

"Why are you walking barefoot?" Vikram enquires barging in my reverie.
"I must've forgotten to wear them after pooja."

"How many times I'm supposed to tell you to wear shoes? This is not India." Annoyance laces his voice and he gets up disappearing from the dining room.

After a few seconds, he returns widening my eyes.
"You'll catch a cold if you don't wear them." He plops them in front of me. I oblige by wearing them.
"Thank you," I mumble sipping on my juice my heart galloping over his gentlemanly act.

He returns to his breakfast as if not fazed. This is the first act he has done after two weeks of our marriage.
Back at home in India, we never wear footwear inside the house. However, in London due to cold weather it's necessary to keep my feet warm and I keep forgetting it.