Page 32 of Knot Made to Break: Part One

“They would never hurt me.”

“Whatever.” She shook her head in obvious annoyance.

I gritted my teeth. It didn’t matter what she believed about me, but her opinion of my Alphas irked me to no end.

Let it go, I told myself, realizing that arguing with her would be pointless.

Jennica huffed, already switching topics. “Are you going to show them that one? We don’t have all day,Cinderella.”

I bit my lip, looking at my reflection.

Yeah, no.

I didn’t like the dress, so I shook my head. Thankfully, the guys agreed that if an outfit didn’t fit or if I genuinely didn’t like it, I could skip showing them. As long as I popped out every few minutes in something new, they seemed content that I wasn’tsimply dismissing choices based on cost or the quantity of things they’d already placed in the ‘yes’ pile.

I peeled off the current outfit, quickly slipping on the pretty sundress that Gio had picked. I turned so that Jennica could zip it in the back.

Studying the mirror, I smiled at the way it hugged my waist and flared out at my hips, flowing to mid-shin. The sweetheart neckline made my bust look more pronounced than it was, and the straps were thin and delicate.

Just as I was starting to feel good about myself, Jennica’s voice pierced through my happiness like a needle through a balloon.

“You know, men prefer a woman with some meat on her bones. Hips, ass, tits—something to hold on to when they fuck. They want to be sure their woman can bear children. You? A stiff wind would snap you in half.”

I flinched, her words echoing my deepest insecurities. I studied myself again, and this time the mirror mocked me, reflecting back a gaunt face and protruding collarbones. Maybe Jennica was right. Maybe I did look too… boyish.

But then I remembered the way the guys had looked at me in each outfit. The way their eyes had followed me, filled with warmth and something else I couldn’t quite name.

I reminded myself that her words only held as much power as I gave them, and I shoved them down, trying my best to ignore her hurtful comments.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the dressing room. Jennica’s lip curled in disgust, but I moved past her and out to the waiting area where the guys were lounging, spread out among the chairs as if they owned the place. They sat up immediately, their gazes going from bored to heated in less than a second.

Tommas let out an exaggerated gasp. “Holy shit, Butterfly.” He gave me a thorough once over. “I swear, each outfit looks even better than the last.” His green eyes sparkled with genuine warmth. “You look stunning.”

I felt my cheeks flush at his enthusiastic praise. “You’re just saying that,” I mumbled, fidgeting with the skirt of the dress.

“No way,” Marco chimed in, standing up to circle me. “Tommy’s right. You’re a knockout.” He made a show of checking me out from different angles, his playful smirk making me smile despite my nervousness.

“Do a little spin for us,” he encouraged, twirling his finger.

I obliged, turning slowly, loving how the skirt flared out. As I completed the rotation, I caught Gio’s intense gaze. He wasn’t smiling, but the heat in his hazel eyes caused my breath to catch. He gave a small, approving nod that filled me with warmth.

“We’re buying that one,” he stated, leaving no room for argument.

Dimitri gave a low hum of approval. His attention raked over my body, from my toes to my face, lingering on certain areas in a way that made my skin tingle. The hunger in his gaze was unmistakable.

“Gorgeous,” he growled, his voice rough with desire.

I swallowed hard, overwhelmed by their affection. I wanted to retreat, to hide from the intensity of it all. Yet something new within me savored their admiration, blooming under their praise.

For the first time in my life, I felt truly seen; cherished and beautiful.

“Thank you,” I whispered shyly.

Their reactions made my heart skip a beat.

Jennica’s saccharine voice cut through our moment. “Just a few more to try on and then we’ll be finished.”

I hurried through the rest of the outfits, trying on everything else in the dressing room, a little sad when my favorite blue sweater hung too big off my shoulders. Not that the guys had noticed how ill-fitting it was. They’d admired the way the color brought out my eyes and hadn’t cared that it draped in ways it wasn’t supposed to.

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