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Alex's POV

I just sat there, completely speechless with my mouth hanging open like an idiot.

It felt like the floor had dropped out from under me. My chest burned and I reached for the glass of water in front of me.

I gulped it down fast, hoping it would cool me off, quench whatever this was choking me up inside.

"The wedding is next week, Alexandra. We've already set the date and started preparations. It's all coming together nicely."

I choked instantly.

The water went down the wrong way, and I coughed hard, spilling the rest all over my dress. It soaked through the cloth, cold and wet against my skin, dripping down onto my lap.

Mum's face twisted immediately; she didn't even try to hide how embarrassed and disgusted she looked. Her eyes narrowed at me, lips pressing into that thin line she always got when I messed up.

Dean didn't hesitate, though. He leaned forward right away, grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket and handing it over to me. “Here, take this.”

I took it but my eyes dropped to my lap again, staring at the wet mess, too humiliated to look up.

Mum called my name sharply. "Alexandra, do you have anything to say about this? Anything at all?"

I couldn't speak. My throat felt tight, words stuck somewhere deep.

When I stayed silent, Dean cleared his throat and leaned in a bit more, his voice low and gentle.

"Are you alright, Alex?”

I finally lifted my eyes to his.

Even now, knowing what he was about to become, he looked like pure temptation. The devil himself, wrapped in that perfect suit.

Was I reading too much into it? How could he want my mother—older, stricter, my mother—over me? I was younger, desperate for him, ready to give him everything.

His brows furrowed then, and I realized tears were building up in my eyes, blurring my vision. I couldn't let them see me cry.

I stood up fast.

"Excuse me," I muttered, grabbing the handkerchief and hurrying away before anyone could stop me.

I made my way to the restroom, pushing the door open and locking it behind me.

Alone at last, I leaned against the sink, clutching his handkerchief tight.

I brought it to my nose and inhaled deeply. His scent was so clean, so masculine, with a hint of that cologne he always wore. It drove me nuts, sending a rush straight between my legs.

If I didn't have even an atom of shame left, I'd have touched myself right there. I’d have slipped my fingers under my dress to chase that ache. Masturbating to my soon-to-be stepfather.

My life was a complete joke.

Tears started flowing then, streaming down my cheeks.

I remembered the first day I saw him so clearly. I was just eighteen, watching an 18-rated movie he starred in—one of those steamy ones Mum's company produced.

He was on screen, those blue eyes intense, strong hands gripping the actress. His shoulders flexed as he thrusted into her, pounding her.

I knew it was fake, all acted out for the camera, but it didn't matter.

I wished it was me under him, feeling every powerful move, getting lost in him.

From that night on, I dreamt about it constantly; day and night, over and over. Him ramming into me, fucking me until I couldn't think straight, sending me to the heavens and back.

And now this man was going to be my stepfather? No way. I wouldn't let it happen. I couldn't.

I splashed water on my face, fixed my makeup as best I could, and smoothed down my wet dress.

Deep breaths.

When I felt steady enough, I headed back to the table.

Dean's earlier warmth was gone; he sat there with that unapproachable look again, cool and distant like he was with everyone else.

I swallowed hard, feeling that familiar clench of warmth between my thighs. I was such a fool, still lusting after him even now.

Mum noticed me right away and frowned deeply.

"Alexandra, how could you be so reckless? Look at the mess you've made of yourself.”

I wasn't in the mood for her scolding. I cut her off sharply.

“I don't approve of this marriage. At all."

Dean's eyes snapped to mine, holding there for a second.

Mum looked taken aback. Her mouth opened like she couldn't believe I'd say that out loud. Before she could fire back, I grabbed my phone from the table, gave Dean one last long look—memorizing those eyes—and turned on my heel, stomping away.

As I walked out of the restaurant, head high even though my heart was shattering, I made a firm decision in my head. I would never let that wedding happen.

No matter what it took.

But unfortunately, my opposition didn't matter one bit. Mum didn't even give it a thought.

Preparations started right away; venues booked, dresses ordered, invitations sent.

I couldn't believe it. How could she marry someone four years younger than her, and her own employee on top of that? Deep down, though, I knew that wasn't why I was so angry. It was him. All him.

The nights were sleepless after that. I'd lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to even touch myself anymore.

Every time I tried to slip into one of those old fantasies, reality crashed in; he was going to be my stepdad.

It turned everything dirty in the worst way, and I couldn't get past it. A living hell, tossing and turning until dawn.

The wedding day came way too fast. Mum had a dress picked out for me, this elegant bridesmaid thing in soft blue.

I stood in front of my mirror, staring at my reflection. The fabric clung just right, looking so innocent on the outside.

I swallowed hard, then slowly raised the dress up my thighs.

Underneath, I had on a see-through thong, barely there lace, and thigh straps holding up sheer stockings. Sexy, risky. I was going to do everything in my power to stop this wedding today. Whatever it took.

The ride to the venue with Mum was dead quiet at first. She sat there in her stunning wedding gown, all white lace and pearls, looking every bit the bride.

After a while, she broke the silence.

"So, my own daughter won't even compliment me on my wedding dress? Not a single word about how I look?"

I didn't turn to face her, just stared out the window.

"Dad just died a year ago, Mum. You're already moving on like it was nothing. There's no reason for me to approve this marriage or pretend I'm happy about it."

She looked away quickly, her jaw tightening.

"I know damn well this isn't about your father, Alexandra. Don't use him as an excuse. But I don't care. This wedding will go on, with or without your blessing. You'll get over whatever this tantrum is."

Her words tightened something in my chest. But I didn't say anything back. Just clenched my hands in my lap and watched.

We arrived at the venue and the second the car stopped, I excused myself fast.

"I need the restroom," I told her, slipping away before she could question it.

But I didn't go to the restroom. I snuck around until I found the groom's room. My hand shook as I pushed the door open, stepped inside, and shut it behind me. I turned the key in the lock with a click and took it then I turned to face him.

Dean stood there in his tux, looking impossibly handsome with his tie not fully done yet.

His eyes widened in surprise.

"Alex? What are you doing here?"

His voice was deep and hoarse, that sound alone making my heart race wild.

I took a deep breath. You can do this, Alex. He looked a bit worried, starting to walk toward me like he thought something was wrong.

That's when I spilled it all. "I'm in love with you."

His steps halted dead. His brows furrowed, confusion flashing across his face.

I almost chickened out, but I pushed on, words tumbling out.

"It started when I was 18. I saw you in a…movie, and I've been obsessed ever since. I really, really can't let this wedding happen. Please, Dean. You can't marry her."

There was a long minute of silence. He just stared at me, processing. Finally, he spoke.

"Alex, I don't mean to belittle your feelings or make light of them, but this is wrong. On so many levels. I'm about to marry your mother. You're too young for me, and whatever you're feeling…it's a crush, maybe infatuation…but it can't be anything more. We can't act on it."

My heart shattered right there.

But I wasn't giving up; I'd suspected he'd say something like this.

My pulse thundered in my ears as I reached for the zipper on my dress.

With trembling hands, I pulled it down slowly, letting the dress slide off my shoulders and pool at my feet on the ground.

It left me standing there bare naked except for the see-through thong and thigh straps.