Page 32 of Defying Love

"Come," I urged gently, guiding her toward the door. "There's someone you need to meet."

We walked together down the hallway. At the kitchen, I paused, allowing Alexa to enter first. There, standing by the stove, was Lizzie, her brown hair perfectly coiffed, her posture commanding yet welcoming.

"Lizzie, this is Alexa. She'll be working with you to plan the party."

"An honor to finally meet you," she said, her tone imbued with warmth and authority.

"Thank you," Alexa replied. "I look forward to planning this with you."

"Then let's get started.” She pulled out a notepad and pen with practiced ease.

I watched as they began discussing themes, menus, and decorations, Alexa's input thoughtful and measured. But as they spoke of guest lists, her expression faltered, and my chest tightened.

"Who would you like to invite, Alexa?”

She hesitated, her bright facade dimming for just a moment. "I can’t invite my mother, not yet." She looked over at me, not wanting to say more in front of Lizzie, but I understood. She didn’t want her wrapped up in this world.

"My family is your family now, I’ll invite everyone," I declared, stepping closer, the weight of my statement heavy in the air.

A flicker of gratitude lit up Alexa's face, and she reached out, her fingers lacing with mine. In that simple gesture, a silent vow passed between us—a promise to forge a new path together, away from the specters of solitude that haunted our pasts.

"Thank you," she said, her eyes shining with a resolve that matched my own. "For everything."

As Lizzie continued to outline the preparations, I remained by Alexa's side, a silent sentinel. The dark tendrils of my former life seemed less menacing with her near, her presence a beacon in the gloom.

Together, we would cast away the shadows, and amid the chaos of our worlds colliding, we would carve out a sanctuary—a place where love, however tainted, could thrive.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Alexa

The scent of aged paper and ink wafted through the dimly lit room as Lizzie and I hunched over the table, cluttered with lists and sketches. Our fingers were blackened with smudges, our brows furrowed.

"Maybe we can drape the crimson velvet along there," Lizzie suggested, her voice a haunting whisper in the silence. "It'll give the hall a more… elegance touch."

I nodded, tracing my finger over the designs, feeling the weight of the looming event. This wasn't just any party; it was a demonstration of power, an intricate dance of shadows and secrets. And Dominic would be at the center of it all, his dark eyes surveying his domain with quiet supremacy.

As if conjured by my thoughts, the door creaked open, spilling a sliver of light that cut through the gloom. Dominic stood there, his frame filling the doorway. He extended a hand to me; it was a silent command, not a request.

"Come, Alexa. We have preparations to make," he said, his voice smooth and dangerous like the blade of a well-honed knife.

I felt Lizzie's eyes on me as I rose and took his hand, the warmth of his skin a contrast to the cool air of the room. With each step toward him, there was a shift in the atmosphere with the subtle thrumming of power that emanated from him.

Dominic guided me toward a sleek black car that glinted ominously in the sunlight. The city passed us by in a blur as we drove to the boutique, a place where luxury and excess knew no bounds.

"Try this," Dominic commanded once we were inside the opulent store, handing me an array of dresses so extravagant they seemed to mock my discomfort.

Each piece he chose was meticulously crafted, but as I stood in front of the mirror, the fabric felt like chains, heavy and constricting. The silk clung to my skin, the lace scratched at my neck, and the sequins glittered mockingly under the harsh lighting. Each dress was a costume, a role to play in Dominic's world, one where I didn't quite belong.

The disdain must have shown on my face because Dominic's reflection appeared behind mine, his dark eyes boring into me through the mirror. "You don't like them," he stated—no question in his tone, just fact.

I met his gaze in the reflection, the intensity of his eyes sending a shiver down my spine. "They're beautiful, but they're not me."

Dominic's lips twitched, a ghost of a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You'll wear them for me," he said, and it wasn't a suggestion. It was an order wrapped in velvet, soft but unyielding.

Resistance bubbled up inside me, but it was quickly quashed by the relentless tide of Dominic's will. As I looked into his eyes, I knew arguing was futile. This was his world, and he was the master of it. In his presence, I was nothing but a pawn in grand design.

The chill from the boutique's air-conditioning did nothing to cool the heat of my frustration. "Dominic, I—" My words caught on a breath, tangled between gratitude and a stubborn independence that refused to be stifled. "Please don't buy these for me."

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