Chapter Nine

Elena

This weekend has been unexpectedly perfect.

I spent so much time with Calah and Diego, it was starting to feel like this life - this strange, luxurious, dangerous new life - wasn’t so bad after all. Calah was a joy. Sweet, thoughtful, always asking the most curious questions. We watched old Disney movies, played board games that I hadn’t touched since I was ten, and even did a little cooking with Maria. I let her stir the sauce while I chopped vegetables, making Maria laugh so hard and she beamed like I’d handed her the keys to the universe. I loved every minute of it. And I loved her too.

The wedding is a week away now.

Diego had come into the lounge yesterday afternoon, leaned against the archway, and said, “If you want to make any plans for the ceremony, just tell me. I’ll have the planners come here. I want it to be something you remember, something you wanted.”

That surprised me more than it should have. A man like Diego, giving me a say??

“You don’t have to do that,” I’d said carefully. “I mean... you have a lot going on.”

He tilted his head. “Doesn’t mean I won’t make time for the things that matter.”

I thought about it for a moment, then asked if Calah could be my little bride. When he said yes, her face lit up like it was Christmas morning. She screamed and hugged me, promising to practice walking slowly and elegantly, like a princess. I nearly cried, she was just adorable.

—----------------------------------------

And now, this morning, I was sitting at the breakfast table with Diego, sipping my second cup of coffee, pretending not to listen as he spoke sharply into his phone.

“Luis,” he said coldly. “I want that gone. The goods better be delivered today, or you won’t like the consequences. Tell your men to round up the dock and get it done, NOW!”

His voice had that edge again. The one that reminded me exactly who I was living with.

I tried not to flinch, watching him instead. He wore a black tank top and grey sweatpants, his tattoos flexing with every movement. And yet... something about him was so casual and warm this morning.

A wolf in boyish charm, I thought.

I was staring, completely lost in thought, when he cleared his throat.

“What are you thinking about so intently, doll?”

I blinked, feeling caught. “I’m thinking about why you look so good this morning.”

His smirk was slow and lethal, revealing his dimples. “Ohh? You want me to show you just how good it can get?”

I laughed softly, opening my mouth to answer—but he beat me to it, standing, walking over, and pulling me into a long, deep kiss. My heart stuttered. His hands were firm around my neck, his mouth hot and possessive. When he pulled back, he leaned close and whispered against my skin, “You smell so good, doll,” before returning to his seat like nothing had happened.

I touched my lips, trying not to grin like an idiot.

“There’s the Romano Corporation Annual Masquerade Ball coming up,” he said a moment later.

I looked up. “When?”

“In two days.”

I nearly choked on my coffee. “That soon?”

He nodded. “There’ll be an auction, an art exhibit, and a charity dinner. A lot of powerful people. And that’s when I’ll officially introduce you to the family—as my wife.”

My fingers tightened around the mug. I’d been to high society galas before—university fundraisers, embassy events—but this wasn’t the same. These weren’t business tycoons or arts donors. These were people born into power. People who wielded it with no apologies.

“You alright?” he asked, voice softer now.

I must’ve looked nervous, because he patted his lap. “Come here.”

I hesitated.

“Elena.”

I stood and walked over, cheeks already heating up. As I sat, he gave me a playful slap on the ass. I yelped.

“Was that supposed to calm my nerves?” I asked, arching a brow.

“Absolutely.” He grinned.

His arms wrapped around my waist, and his fingers began tracing lazy circles on my lower back. I wrapped mine around his neck, sinking into the warmth of his chest.

“You’ll be fine,” he murmured. “You’re smart, poised, and you’ve got guts. You had Luigi eating out of the palm of your hand the first time you met.”

I groaned and buried my face in his shoulder. “Don’t remind me.”

“Why not? I was impressed. Still am.”

I whispered against his neck, “I don’t even have anything to wear. You didn’t exactly give me time to pack when you abducted me from my university.”

He laughed, low and wicked. “Tell me you’re not glad I brought you here.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll plead the fifth.”

“We’ll go shopping later. I want you to feel like royalty when you walk into that ballroom.”

“Diego—”

“No arguing.” He stood abruptly, lifting me bridal-style into his arms.

“Diego!” I gasped. “Put me down!”

He smirked. “Not a chance, doll.”

Thank God the staff were nowhere in sight. I would’ve died from embarrassment.

---

Later That Afternoon

I’d been trying on dresses for what felt like hours.

The boutique Diego brought me to was nothing short of elite—sleek marble floors, velvet chairs, champagne service, and racks on racks of designer gowns. The receptionist had been sweet, suggesting bestsellers and fan favorites, but nothing felt right. I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard. I needed something classic. Something simple. Something that makes a statement, but elevated.

Meanwhile, Diego sat on one of the couches like he had all the time in the world, scrolling through his phone, then glancing up every time I emerged from the dressing room.

“Walk for me,” he’d say.

“Spin around.”

“Hm. Too flashy.”

“Too stiff.”

“Not you.”

I groaned in frustration. “You’re the most annoying fashion critic I’ve ever met.”

“And the best-looking,” he added smoothly, while I rolled my eyes at him.

Just when I was about to give up, I spotted the most beautiful dress, tucked between a bright red gown and a gold sequined monstrosity. A black dress. Clean-cut. Silk. Side slit that was just right. I slid it off the rack, something about it called to me.

I slipped it on and it fit like it was made just for me.

When I stepped out, Diego’s reaction was immediate.

He whistled, slow and low. “Now that,” he said, rising to his feet, “is the one.”

He walked up to me, eyes never leaving mine. His hands slid to my waist, and one moved up to cradle the side of my neck. “You look...” His voice dropped. “Absolutely fucking perfect.”

I felt heat rise to my cheeks. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

And then he kissed me.

Not soft. Not sweet. Hard. Possessive. Almost bruising. Like he couldn’t help himself. My hands fisted in the front of his shirt as he pressed against me.

“I want to fuck you so bad in this dress right now,” he growled against my mouth.

“Diego!” I gasped, laughing nervously. “We’re in public!”

“I don’t mind, doll.” He nuzzled into my neck.

A soft cough interrupted us. The receptionist was back, holding a pair of stilettos. She looked... amused.

Diego stepped back, brushing his lips over mine before giving me another playful smack on the ass.

I was definitely blushing now.

The shoes were stunning—and a perfect match. I slipped them on and strutted across the floor while Diego watched like a starved man.

“We’ll take them,” he told the receptionist, pulling out a sleek black card.

“And the dress?” she asked.

He smirked at me. “Yes, that too.”

We paid. He tipped generously, and we headed out with garment bags and boxes in tow.

—--

In the car, I leaned my head against the window, watching the city blur past. My nerves still buzzed beneath the surface.

“You alright?” Diego asked, reaching over to take my hand.

I nodded slowly. “Just... a lot.”

He squeezed gently. “I know.”

I turned to look at him. His eyes were still on the road, but there was something so certain in the way he said it.

I believed him and for now, that was enough.