Chapter 5
ALEX
I stood in a massive ballroom at the Salvatore Estate, Aiden on my grandfather’s left and me on his right, shaking uncontrollably.
I wanted to vomit.
Run out of the room.
Until tonight, I’d never worn heels. I never attended a school dance or owned anything nice like this Valentino dress.
I clung to Aiden’s side, needing my brother to hold me up. Even if nerves weren’t coursing through my body, I couldn’t walk a straight line in four-inch heels. Before we left the house, I looked like a drunk staggering across a tightrope, arms out at my sides to stay upright.
My grandfather hired a woman to tame my naturally curly hair and coat my face in makeup to make me look less frail.
In a red strapless dress, I couldn’t hide my too-skinny arms and legs.
My ribs poked through the silky fabric. I hadn’t eaten a proper meal until my grandfather found me, and it showed.
I was so embarrassed.
The four Salvatore brothers stood in line beside their father, all dressed in black suits. Four had black hair, while the fifth had caramel brown. Tall and athletic-looking, they glared at me, searing my skin with heated gazes.
My grandfather stepped forward to greet Arlo, who donned a menacing stare that chilled me to the bone.
“Arlo, I’d like you to meet my grandchildren.” My grandfather nodded at my brother and me. “Aiden and Alexandrea.”
“Welcome to Devil’s Creek,” Arlo said with a forced smile.
Aiden tipped his head. “Hey!”
“Hi,” I said, shaking Arlo’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I started painting after my therapist introduced me to Evangeline’s art. Your wife inspired so much of my work.”
“That’s so lovely to hear, Alexandrea. My Eva would have been thrilled to meet you if she had lived,” he said, a sneer aimed at my grandfather.
As rehearsed, I approached the Salvatore brothers, slapping on a smile. “Hi. I’m Alexandrea. But you guys can call me Alex. My grandfather says we’re in the same grade at school.”
“Not the same as me,” said the most muscular one with messy black hair that flopped onto his forehead. “I’m two grades below my brothers.”
I nibbled on my lip, shifting my weight to the other foot. “Well, okay. Cool. I guess I’ll see you at school then.”
He nodded, then extended his hand. “I’m Marcello.”
I was so awkward and freaked out that my head spun from all the attention. Overnight, I went from no one noticing I was alive to gaining the attention of the four hottest guys I had ever seen.
“Nice to meet you, Marcello.”
I shook his hand and glanced at his brother. Rude and arrogant, Luca was the oldest—the one my grandfather had warned me about. Yet, wondering what made him tick intrigued me.
“You must be Luca. Has anyone ever told you that the two of you could be twins? You look so much alike.”
“No,” Luca growled, nostrils flared. “Can’t say they have.”
I gave up on the hot, cocky brother and moved to the next in line. Bastian wasn’t a Salvatore by blood, which was noticeable the second you saw him. While it was clear Marcello and Luca were Italian, Bastian looked Irish or Scottish.
“Hi.” I smiled at Bastian and gave him a tiny wave. As I inched closer, I noticed his eyes and couldn’t stop staring. “You have beautiful eyes. They remind me of slate.”
Bastian nodded and turned away, bored with this meet-and-greet.
“Okay,” I whispered, shaking my head, frustrated by their cruelty. “What’s with all the mood swings?”
I moved to Damian, who was almost as terrifying as Luca. Sure, they were gorgeous and filthy rich, but they were all assholes.
Well, not Marcello.
I could have seen myself marrying him. Yet, my eyes kept drifting back to Luca, then to Bastian, and now to Damian.
Damian was the leanest of the group with black hair, a jaw cut like a diamond, and blood-red lips.
I studied Damian’s face in awe, and my fingers itched to paint him. “Have you ever let anyone paint you?”
He stared. Blinked.
Hello, is anyone home?
“Well?” I said to probe Damian once more. “Have you?”
After the longest moment of silence, he shook his head.
“Your face is perfectly symmetrical. I would love to paint you.”
It was the truth. People with faces like his didn’t come around often.
I couldn’t tell if they were all acting like dicks because they didn’t want to marry me or if this was part of a game. But then I remembered Damian had selective mutism and tried not to take offense. I was a little disappointed because I wanted to hear his voice.
My grandfather had said Luca and Bastian were geniuses and that Luca was a master manipulator. Maybe this was his way of breaking me down.
I understood how darkness could rot your insides and poison you to the core. I saw myself in each of the Salvatore brothers. They might have grown up with every luxury, but we were the same, bonded by horrifying traumas and doing our best to survive.
I used to think that all rich people had perfect lives. That money solved everything. But no amount of money could remove emotional pain from the body, pain so intense it made your muscles and joints ache. Pain so horrible it festered inside your heart like a flesh-eating disease.
I rejoined my family and flicked my blonde curls over my shoulder. “They’re so mean,” I whispered to my grandfather. “I tried to be nice. What did I do wrong?”
“Fuck them,” Aiden said. “They need you more than you need them, Lexie.”
“You will marry one of the Salvatore boys,” my grandfather said, his voice stern and cold. “And it’s not up for debate. I saved you from a life of poverty and abuse. Just remember, you owe me, Alexandrea.”
No more Mr. Nice Guy. Aiden was right that it was an act to sweet-talk me into this marriage. With each passing day, Pops became less present in our lives.
“Of course,” I told him. “I’m grateful for everything you have done for us. I won’t let you down.”
My fake smile masked how I really felt. I was so mentally and emotionally beaten down by years of abuse.
But I was a fighter.
A future marriage to one of these beautifully broken boys freed my brother and me from our former lives. I refused to let them steal this opportunity from me. And I had one thing they didn’t have—the power to choose.