Chapter fourteen
One week later:
The door to my room bursts open with a loud bang, jolting me from my comfortable position. Vincenzo strides in like he owns the place—well, technically, he does, but that doesn't mean I have to acknowledge it.
With a sharp tug, he rips the duvet off my body, tossing it onto the floor with a flick of his wrist.
I blink up at him, unfazed, my phone still in hand as I finish typing my message to Joy. "Was that really necessary?" I sigh, frowning.
"Did you not hear me call for you? Twice," he bites out, his dark eyes flashing.
"I heard you," I admit lazily, stretching out on the now-bare mattress. "I just chose to ignore you."
His jaw ticks. "Alexa, some of my members are coming over for dinner in two hours. Get out of bed and get dressed."
I groan, throwing my arm over my eyes. "I don't want to go. I'll just stay here. No one will even know I exist."
"No." His tone is firm, unyielding. "You will be introduced tonight as my wife. Now that everything is settled, you're going to meet everyone properly. However—" he narrows his eyes, "you will not be drinking like everyone else."
I roll my eyes dramatically, pushing myself up into a sitting position. "Yes, Dad."
A muscle in his jaw flexes, but he doesn't rise to the bait. Instead, his gaze drags over me, taking in the red, silky robe clinging to my body. His expression remains impassive, but I don't miss the flicker of heat in his eyes.
I snap my fingers in front of his face. "You done staring?"
His lips twitch into an arrogant smirk. "You wish."
I huff, shooing him toward the door. "Out."
With a low chuckle, he obliges, leaving me in peace.
Leisurely, I pad into the bathroom, running myself a steaming hot bubble bath. The moment I sink into the water, a deep sigh escapes my lips, the heat working its way into my muscles, washing away the remnants of exhaustion.
I swirl the bubbles around my fingers, shaping them absentmindedly. It's been so long since I've had a moment to myself—no expectations, no watchful eyes.
After soaking for what feels like forever, I finally get to work. I wash and condition my long hair, the familiar scent of vanilla and jasmine filling the air. Once I'm done, I step out, wrapping a fluffy towel around my body before drying off.
If I'm going to meet Vincenzo's precious members, I might as well look good doing it.
I slip into a black thong, deciding to forgo a bra—after all, the dress I have in mind is already low-cut.
My makeup is applied with practiced ease, just as Jerome taught me years ago. Dark grey eyeshadow is blended to perfection, accentuated by a sharp silver-glitter wing. For the final touch, I swipe on some lip gloss, watching the way it makes my lips shine under the bathroom light.
Now for the outfit.
Somehow, mysteriously, most of my more revealing clothes had gone missing on the flight here. I have no doubt Vincenzo had something to do with that.
But he must have missed this one.
My fingers skim over the fabric until I find what I'm looking for—a silver sequined dress, tight at the bottom with a deep v-neckline that plunges dangerously low.
Smirking, I slip it on, fastening a delicate diamond necklace around my neck—the one babbo gave me years ago.
My hair is slicked back into a classy high ponytail, the smooth strands gleaming under the light. I complete the look with black, knee-high gladiator heels, the straps winding up my legs in intricate patterns.
One final glance in the mirror, and I'm satisfied.
Let's see what Vince has to say about this.
Instead of waiting for him, I make my way downstairs, following the sounds of chatter and clinking glasses.
Pushing open the door, I scan the room, taking in the scene.
A group of women dance in the middle of the space, their bodies moving in rhythm to the low pulse of music. One in particular catches my eye—her. The way she stares at Vincenzo while twerking on her friend is downright comical.
That one belongs to the streets.
Not that it really matters. In a way, Tia was like that too—whenever we went out, she would always find herself staring at Nico in the same way.
Vincenzo, meanwhile, looks as annoyingly good as ever in an all-black suit. He stands slightly apart from the main crowd, speaking in low tones with some of his men. They laugh at whatever he says, as if it's actually funny.
It's not.
Vincenzo doesn't do funny. He doesn't have a single humorous bone in his entire body.
Then he notices me.
His gaze darkens, his expression unreadable, but he gestures for me to come over.
I ignore him.
Instead, I stride toward two women standing off to the side, their giggles catching my attention. They sip their champagne, completely at ease in their own world.
They look like my kind of people.
If looks could kill, I'd be six feet under right now. I can feel Vincenzo's glare burning into the side of my head.
I smirk.
"Hi, I'm Alexa," I introduce myself smoothly.
The woman with striking, dark eyes smiles warmly. "Hey, I'm Samira—but you can call me Mira. And this—" she gestures to the girl beside her, "is my sister, Yara. She's a mute."
I tilt my head. "It's nice to meet you both."
Mira's eyes twinkle with amusement. "So, you're the new member Boss mentioned. You must be pretty skilled to make it into the top ranks so fast."
I hum thoughtfully. "Hmmm, is that what he told everyone? How interesting..." I trail off, my voice laced with mischief. Oh, Vincenzo is going to regret not telling them the full story.
Mira raises a perfectly arched brow. "You seem like trouble." Then, after a pause, she grins. "I like it. I can tell we're going to be fast friends."
Yara shakes her head at her sister's antics, but there's a small smile playing on her lips as she sips her champagne.
"You have no idea," I reply lightly.
Then, with deliberate defiance, I grab a flute of champagne from the nearby tray and down it in one go.
Across the room, Vincenzo's head snaps in my direction, his attention now fully locked onto me.
Rule number one? Broken.
Tonight is going to be fun.
Maybe—just maybe—if I push him far enough, he'll give up on this ridiculous deal and divorce me.
Wouldn't that be a dream?