Chapter 5 Alejandra

ALEJANDRA

I was still shaking when I entered my bedroom after my first encounter with Damion. He had been intense and cold, not to mention dominant. Ordering me to change my wardrobe? How dare he?

"There you are! Where have you been?" Mom asked, ushering me toward my walk-in closet. "We need to get you ready. For God's sake, Alejandra, what are you wearing?"

She tugged at my clothes until I started undressing, still in a trance. Mom gave me a curious look. "What's with you?"

"Nothing," I said quietly.

Mom turned to the selection of dresses she must have spread out on the bench before I'd arrived. "I can't believe you don't own a single decent dress."

I'd always avoided going to official events because I hated the insincere schmoozing and backstabbing attitude of those who attended them. "What's wrong with the dresses I own?"

Mom had chosen the three least quirky dresses from my collection. All of them were in my favorite retro Audrey Hepburn style. Mom picked up a sky-blue dress with white dots. "Don't you have anything solid-colored?"

"No," I said. Had she never paid attention to my clothes?

I had Dad to thank for the freedom to wear what I liked. While he was conservative, he had trouble saying no to me. Mom had no choice but to bow to his command.

Mom sighed then handed the blue dress to me. "This matches your eyes. Let's hope Damion isn't put off by the ridiculous style."

I put the dress on without a word, remembering Damion's words about my clothes and my bangs.

"Put on makeup, Alejandra. You need to look older."

I gave her an exasperated expression, but she was already on her way out. "And wear heels!"

Taking a deep breath, I blinked to stop the tears from falling. I'd been lucky so far. I preferred to turn a blind eye to the realities of mob life, but I knew what went on behind closed doors. Our world was a cruel one. Dad had been good to me, but I'd seen how many of my cousins had been abused by their fathers, how my uncles treated their wives.

My last fiancé had been close to my age, a quiet almost shy boy that Dad had chosen to protect me. I could have held my ground against him in a marriage. That would be a difficult task with Damion. I didn't like to give in to negative emotions, but my fear was an acute pain in my chest.

Grabbing blue heels, I headed for my vanity. My eyes were glassy when I checked my reflection. I put on more makeup than usual, but still much less than Mom and Damion probably expected.

When I made my way downstairs for the official introductions, I'd managed to calm myself. My eyes still felt too warm from almost crying, but my smile didn't waver when I descended the stairs toward Dad, Damion, and his companion Logan.

Dad took my hand, squeezing it as he led me toward my future husband. Damion's expression was a masterpiece of controlled politeness as he regarded me. His eyes were dark blue, like the depth of the ocean, and gave the impression that they could swallow you just as easily as the bottomless sea. Disapproval flashed across his face when he took in my dress.

"Damion, meet my daughter, Alejandra." A hint of warning rang in Dad's voice, which bounced right off Damion's stoic demeanor.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Alejandra." His mouth pulled into an almost non-existent smile as he took my hand and kissed it. I trembled.

Dark blue eyes flashed up to mine, and I straightened my spine. "The pleasure is all mine, s-

Damion."

Dad glanced between Damion and me, worried. Maybe he finally realized that he'd thrown me to a wolf. Dad tried to intimidate my future husband with a dark look, but a sheep didn't become a predator by wearing a wolf fur, and Dad had never been more than prey among the blood-thirsty monsters in our circles.

Damion straightened, ignoring Dad, and motioned toward his companion. "That's my right hand and Consigliere, Logan."

I held out my hand, but Logan didn't take it and only politely inclined his head. Dropping my arm, I shifted closer to Dad, who scanned my face. He looked torn, and I felt sick satisfaction over his obvious conflict.

"I'll send a new wardrobe over for Alejandra. Please tell your wife to take your daughter's measurements," Damion said. "I need a woman at my side, not a girl."

That was too much for Dad. "Maybe this was a mistake, and I should cancel our agreement."

Damion moved in front of Dad, staring down at him with a look that turned my stomach. "We shook hands on the engagement, Altair. We settled matters with Phoenix. Everything is agreed upon. Given that we decided against a separate engagement, that makes Alejandra my fiancée, and I'm telling you now that nobody, least of all you, will prevent this marriage."

Maybe Damion hadn't wanted me, but he certainly wouldn't allow anyone to take me away from him.

I held my breath. This was Dad's home, and he ruled over this city. He only bowed down to Phoenix, certainly not to another Underboss.

At least, that was how it should have been.

Yet Dad cleared his throat and lowered his eyes. "I have no intention of canceling our arrangement. I was only making a point." What point?

Damion's expression asked the same question. Mom barged in that moment, completely oblivious to what was going on. "Dinner is ready!" Her smile fell when she saw us.

Damion held out his arm for me to take. I glanced at Dad, but he avoided my eyes. The message was clear: from this day on, Damion would lead the way.

I put my palm on my fiancé's strong forearm. If Dad couldn't protect me anymore, that meant I'd have to protect myself. Damion led me into the dining room, following Mom, who was babbling about possible color schemes for our wedding. Damion probably didn't care the slightest bit. As a man, he wouldn't even have to pretend otherwise-unlike me, the happy future bride.

When we arrived at the dining table, he pulled out the chair for me.

"Thank you." I sank down, smoothing out my dress.

Damion took the seat across from me. His eyes lingered on my bangs before they moved on to my flower earrings, probably deciding what new haircut he'd order me to get and what jewelry to buy for me.

He wanted to turn me into the wife he wanted, mold me like clay. Maybe he thought my age made me a spineless marionette that would bow down to her master at the slightest tug at her strings.

I met his gaze. I'd learned the subtle art of getting my way with a smile and kindness, the only way a woman could get what she wanted in our world. Would it work with Damion? Dad always melted when I batted my lashes, but I had a feeling Damion wouldn't be easily swayed.

A week later, two packages filled with dresses, skirts, and blouses arrived on our doorstep. Mom could hardly contain her excitement as she unpacked clothes by Max Mara, Chanel, Ted Baker, and many other of her favorite designers. The dresses were pretty and elegant. They weren't me at all.

I understood Damion's need to portray a certain image to the public, and at official events I definitely wouldn't have worn my sunflower dress, I just wished he'd asked me to buy a few elegant clothes and not bought them for me as if he didn't value my opinion-which was, of course, the case.