It had been less than two hours after my father left for work when my mother grabbed my arm and nearly dragged me out of the house.
I barely had a chance to change my clothes before she pushed me into the car, announced she was taking me to a beauty salon, and, quote, "We have to make you a real woman."
Wasn't I already a woman?
Or was I just an underdeveloped girl in their eyes, about to pretend to be an adult?
The car ride was tense, or maybe that was just me.
I stared out the window and finally blurted out, "Are you and Dad pressuring me to get married just to get rid of me?"
The only response I received was a sharp pinch on my cheek.
I winced and rubbed the spot as my mother scolded me "Stop with the nonsense, Aurora."
Normal talk.
No straight answer, just the same old attitude "We know what's best for you."
But if anyone was more excited about this marriage than my father, it was my mother.
She glowed every time I mentioned Alexander Brunu, heir to the Bruni Group and one of richest business empires in italy, with a monthly income of nearly billions.
I wasn't blind, and I wasn't stupid.
I knew that marrying him meant status and admiration, and honestly... I couldn't even pretend I wasn't attracted to him.
His sharp jaw and those dark eyes were handsome.
But what attracted me even more was the idea that he would prefer me over all the women he could have; he wanted me as his wife.
When we arrived at the salon, my nerves were on edge.
I barely had a chance to catch my breath before my mother pulled me inside, greeted the receptionist with a very bright smile, and explained that she had an appointment for her daughter.
They immediately seated me, and I leaned my head back in one of those uncomfortable chairs for me.
I opened my mouth, about to ask for something light, something natural, because I didn't want to come out looking too different, but before I could speak, my mother interrupted.
"Make her mature" she said smiling broadly.
"Highlight her features and make her look... mature."
I pressed my lips into a tight line, swallowing the protest that had built up in my throat.
It wasn't as if what I wanted today mattered.
It seemed my face was now public property.
I sat there, silent, letting them transform me into whatever version my mother wanted.
After what seemed like an eternity of steam, creams, and gentle massages, my body finally began to relax.
The tension in my shoulders eased and my breathing slowed.
The scent of lavender and mint filled the room, and the women's rhythmic movements was heaven.
Then came the makeup.
Brush after brush, product after product, and they applied the makeup to my face as if it were a project in need of repair.
I kept my eyes closed, feeling soft bristles sweep across my eyelids and something tugging at my lips.
When they finally relented, satisfied, I opened my eyes and saw my reflection.
For a second, I didn't recognize myself.
The girl staring back wasn't the Aurora I knew.
With the makeup, the soft innocence I'd always carried in my features was gone, replaced by something sharper and bolder, almost predatory.
I didn't know how to describe it precisely, but it wasn't me.
I gently touched my cheeks as if the makeup would melt under my fingers.
My lips were fuller, my eyes darker, and my skin was incredibly smooth and radiant.
I looked like a woman who could walk into a room and command every eye: confident, seductive, and dangerous.
But inside, I still felt like a girl Googling what to say on a first date.
Still, I said nothing.
As long as this was the look Alexander wanted...
As long as it was the face he'd proudly stand beside...
I would keep quiet.
By dinnertime, I was sitting stiffly in the living room with my parents, my hands clenching and unclenching nervously in my lap.
Even the dress I was wearing-tight, short, and decidedly sexy-had been picked out by my mother.
A dark wine-colored shade clung to every little delicate curve I didn't even know I had.
Every second that passed made my stomach churn more.
What if I looked ridiculous?
What if I made a fool of myself in front of him?
What if... he thought I was trying too hard?
The doorbell interrupted my tangled thoughts and instinctively I stood up.
"Aurora," my mother whispered frowning deeply.
I froze, my cheeks burning then quickly sat back in my seat, smoothing the hem of my dress with my trembling hands.
Oh my God, I couldn't even sit properly without messing it up.
The maid rushed to the door, her heels clattering against the floor, and seconds later, Alexander walked in, flanked by his parents.
I swallowed hard.
He looked handsome, wearing a black suit and a black shirt without a tie, his dark hair styled just messy enough to look natural.
His parents followed, both dressed elegantly, his mother in a chic cream dress and his father in a navy suit.
They always looked exactly how I'd always seen the people who live on magazine covers to look: perfect.
As soon as my parents rose from their chairs to greet them, I knew it was my cue.
I got up too, straightening my dress, and forcing my legs to move even though they felt like jelly.
His eyes fell on me immediately.
For a moment, it felt like he was seeing me for the first time.
Which was ridiculous, because we'd already met three times.
One of them was a casual encounter so awkward that I still have nightmares about it.
I ran into him outside a café, just out of bed, my hair in tatters, wearing rumpled sweatpants and a hoodie that was so big it almost swallowed me up.
I looked like I'd crawled out from under the covers until I'd been publicly humiliated, and I knew he remembered that too.
I lowered my head slightly, trying to hide my blush and bowed politely.
"Good evening," I said quietly, barely above a whisper.
His parents nodded politely and returned the greeting, and I slid into my seat as quickly and gracefully as I could.
But I felt his gaze still fixed on me, almost calculating as if he were examining every part of me.
It was as if he was trying to compare this version of me to the neglected girl he'd once seen stumbling half-awake in the street.
And for the first time tonight, I wasn't sure if that was a good thing... or a very dangerous thing.
While my parents immersed themselves in animated conversation, exchanging updates on business projects, charity events, and who was vacationing where, I sat there, sweating profusely.
They were all relaxed, laughing, bragging, and exchanging polite insults laced with pleasantries.
How toxic.
Meanwhile, I was alone with my tangled thoughts, my palms clammy, and my heart pounding as if it were trying to break free from my chest.
Alexander didn't look at me again.
Not once.
He sat there, flipping through his phone listlessly as if this had been the most boring night of his life.
As if I weren't even in the room.
I bit my cheek, feeling smaller and smaller with every passing second.
Finally, my father stood up with a bright smile and pointed to the dining room.
"Shall we move to the dinner table?"
My parents stood up, chatting as they walked forward.
Alexander put his phone in his pocket and slowly stood up behind them, walking.
I moved to catch up, but as soon as I got up from the couch, disaster struck.
The sweat from my nerves made my heels slippery, and the moment I shifted my weight, my foot slipped off my shoe.
I stumbled forward, straight into Alexander's back.
Time slowed to a crawl.
He turned around, frowning sharply as I struggled to regain my balance, my face burning like fire.
I ducked my head quickly pretending to adjust my heel, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole...
Before I could fall again, he reached out forcefully stabilizing my waist.
His fingers were steady, his touch electric against my skin through the thin fabric of the dress.
I froze, mortified.
Despite the electric tingle that swept through me from his touch, it wasn't as pleasurable as I'd imagined.
I'd dreamed of this moment more times than I could count.
The first time Alexander touched me.
In my head, it was supposed to feel magical and wonderful, like a scene from one of those over-the-top romantic dramas.
But now, standing here with his hand firmly on my waist, all I felt was... confusion.
It was true. He'd never touched me before except in a casual, polite gesture to shake my hand.
This was the first time he'd ever touched any part of my body.
And I didn't know whether to love it or hate it.
There was something cold and almost mechanical about the way he held me.
As if he were fixing a broken chair or straightening a crooked picture frame.
No tenderness, no warmth.
As soon as I adjusted my position, he withdrew his hand without saying a word, not even looking into my eyes.
I adjusted my dress, trying to calm my racing heart, and silently followed him to the dinner table, feeling more lost than ever.
Later on.
Alexander's mother said, gently wiping her mouth with a napkin.
"Of course, the engagement should be grand. Something elegant but not too flashy."
"I agree,"
My mother interrupted, beaming.
"We were thinking of booking the Grand Ballroom at the Royal Palace Hotel. It's classic and would perfectly reflect the stature of both families."
"Good choice,"
Alexander's father said, nodding his head and raising his wine glass slightly.
"We'll have to invite all our business associates, and a small gathering won't do them justice."
"And the media will definitely hear about it,"
My father added, a proud gleam in his eyes.
"After all, it's not every day that two prominent families get together like this."
I sat there with a stiff smile, digging my fork into my food as my stomach felt like it was only filling with water, which I nervously sipped.
I really don't know anymore if anything about my marriage was not a way to flex thier statue and money.
I kind of wished for something more relaxed and small like Roma's marriage party.
I was pretty sure all that fake drinking had washed off half of my lipstick too.
Excellent.
Absolutely perfect.
My eyes drifted to Alexander sitting there casualness.
The peas on his plate, untouched and pushed into a neat little pile to the side.
And the way he held his fork, with his left hand.
Left-handed?
I have heard left-handers supposed to be smarter? More creative?
I wondered if that was the case for him.
I tilted my head slightly, looking at him, and at the same time, as if he felt the weight of my gaze, he looked back at me.
Our eyes met.
For a second, neither of us moved.
He didn't smile... he didn't look away.
Neither did I.
When it was time for dessert, my mother suddenly turned to me with a sweet, expectant smile and said
"Aurora, dear, why don't you bring dessert for everyone?"
I blinked at her in surprise.
Less than an hour ago, she had scolded me with a sharp frown for almost standing up to open the door.
Now you want me to play hostess?
Nevertheless, I nodded violently and stood up and made my way to the kitchen.
Feeling lost, I asked the maid for help. She quickly guided me and then returned to her duties.
Alone, I carefully balanced the tray in my hands and carried it into the dining room, my heart pounding with every step.
One by one, Mom, Dad, and Alexander's parents-handed them the delicious cups of cake and fruit with a perfectly mechanical smile.
And then Alexander.
I stepped forward, the tray shaking slightly in my hands, and bent down to offer him the last dessert.
He took the glass... but his eyes didn't linger on the dessert.
No.
They fell shamelessly on my breasts.
My breasts are small, not the kind with the full curves girls show in magazines, but still, his gaze fixed there made my skin crawl.
I tightened my grip on the tray and quickly turned around, placing it on the side table before returning to my chair as calmly as I could.
But inside, my nerves were in disarray.
Was he interested?
Or was I just imagining things?
He kept sending these mixed signals: fleeting glances, subtle gestures, but never enough to confirm.
I bit my inner cheek again, feeling my stomach churn with a mixture of hope and fear.
Fear....why?
As I ate the dessert, I felt his eyes on me again.
This time, not on my body.
On my mouth.
Every time I raised the spoon to my lips, I felt his heavy, sharp gaze following the movement.
It made my stomach churn, not with excitement, but with something more like nausea.
No one had ever looked at me like that before.
And now that it had happened, now that I had the attention I secretly craved, all I could do was act like an embarrassed teenage girl who didn't know what to do with herself.
I couldn't take it anymore.
I put down my spoon, carefully wiped my mouth with a napkin, and quickly got up, whispering,
"Excuse me."
Hardly anyone noticed.
They were busy talking about engagements, guest lists, and flower arrangements, My own marriage
Instead of heading to the bathroom as I'd said, I slipped out the side door letting the cool evening air of the backyard caress my flushed face.
I leaned against the banister, breathing deep, desperate breaths to calm my pounding heart.
A few minutes passed.
The night was quiet and peaceful, the only sounds being the distant roar of cars and the rustling of trees.
Then...
I felt him.
A presence behind me.
Close.
I stiffened, my pulse leaping into my throat, and I gasped in surprise for a moment.
It was Alexander.
I smiled at him, a nervous, embarrassed twitch of my lips that probably made me look even more ridiculous than I actually felt.
I quickly lowered my gaze, pretending to find the tree before me utterly captivating.
Anything to avoid meeting his eyes again.
For a moment, silence fell between us, a thick tense silence.
Then he spoke in a low, almost casual voice.
"You look... different tonight."
I forced a laugh, a soft nervous laugh.
"Yeah, my mom attacked me with an army of makeup artists."
He chuckled and took a step closer, close enough for me to feel the heat radiating off him.
"It suits you," he said, his eyes glazing over in a way that made my skin crawl.
"You should dress like this more."
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, wishing I could disappear into the floor.
"Thanks."
I mumbled, still not daring to look at him directly.
But apparently, he wasn't done yet.
He reached out and carefully smoothed a strand of my hair with his cautious fingers.
"I'm serious. You look stunning tonight."
It was impossible to hide the blush that crept up my neck.
I lowered my head slightly and felt his hand land gently on my shoulder, steady but heavy, almost demanding.
His dark eyes slowly roamed my body, from my face to my toes and back to me, making me feel as if I was being ripped apart under his gaze.
"You look exactly like my ideal woman right now," he whispered, leaning closer.
I looked up at him in surprise, immediately regretting it.
He was closer now, closer than should have been. His scent enveloped me, his body towering over mine in a way that made my muscles tense and tens.
He spoke again, his voice low and quiet, each word moving closer to his, as if he were trying to draw me in without touching me.
And all I felt was a strange, intense discomfort, a tension growing in my stomach with every second.
He leaned in a little and his voice lowered even more, as if he were sharing a dirty little secret.
"I wasn't really interested in you, you know," he said, almost in a lazy tone.
"This whole thing... just because I had to. My father wanted the rumors about me and my womens to stop, and he made it clear to me that if I wanted to stay in his good graces, if I wanted his support... I had to get married."
I froze.
I didn't know what to expect from him.
Maybe some clumsy flirting, maybe a slightly embarrassing confession, but not... this.
Nothing quite so brutally honest.
He shrugged, as if it didn't matter, as if none of this was a big deal.
"I never liked looking innocent Aurora," he continued, his hand sliding slightly along my shoulder, almost making me shiver.
"But now..."
His eyes darkened as they examined me again, slowly and deliberately.
"Now that you've changed... now that you actually look like a woman..."
He tilted his head, smiling faintly.
"Now, I'm interested."
I didn't know whether to feel flattered... or utterly nauseated.
Instinctively, I pushed him away, pressing my hands against his chest and whispering, "Alexander..." in a weak attempt to resist.
But he didn't back down.
Instead, he easily grabbed my wrists and pinned me gently and firmly against the wall, trapping me between the hard surface and his body.
I stiffened and felt his fingers slither through my hair, caressing it as if I were a fragile object he was examining.
He lowered his head and placed a soft kiss on a strand of my hair, sending shivers down my spine.
Then he whispered in my ear, his voice playful and dangerous.
"I wonder... what kind of woman you are, Aurora?"
His breath was hot against my skin.
"Submissive? Or dominant in a relationship?"
I looked up at him, my eyes wide open, stunned, unsure if I should even answer.
He chuckled, brushing his nose gently against my temple.
"You look like a submissive girl," he said, his voice laced with amusement.
"And that's good... it's my type."
He paused, his hand sliding from my hair to the side of my neck, his thumb lightly, possessively touching my jaw.
"But..."
He added, his mouth curved into a slow grim smile.
"I won't lie; I like it better when my woman shows a little courage. Just enough to think she can defy me before I remind her exactly where she stands."
I felt my heart pound in my chest and my breath quicken as I stammered, panic rising in my throat.
"I... I don't-"
Before I could finish, his lips were so close to mine that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin.
I couldn't, I couldn't let him kiss me.
In a sudden fit of panic, I turned my face away, avoiding his touch.
He paused, his lips barely grazing my cheek before he pulled back, his expression incomprehensible.
"This," he said in a low, almost amused voice "isn't my type."
I could feel him studying me with his intense, fascinated gaze.
"But," he continued, his eyes darkening with a dangerous light "it turns me on. It makes me want you even more."
My pulse quickened as he leaned toward me again, but this time, his words were clear, almost a whispered challenge.
"You are like this with your own future husbend? Try to do what I do, Aurora,"
"Try to deserve me."
Then, without another word, he took a step back, his eyes lingering on me for a moment before he turned and walked away.
I stood there frozen in place, my body trembling.
I nearly fell to the ground.
What had just happened? Why had he made me feel this way?
I didn't know what to do next.