Page 25 of Dario DeLuca

I reach around her, closing the passenger side door. “And Bella.”

Mia glances up at me, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“From now on, never step through a door unless I’ve opened it for you.”

Mia swallows and nods. With a tilt of my head, I signal for her to walk toward La Sposa Elegante, the dress shop I had Evelyn research for me. The boutique's name is etched in graceful gold above the door, promising luxury and exclusivity.

For the first time since we met, she doesn’t defy me. She stops in front of the door, waiting for me to open it. As we enter, the scent of lavender and expensive perfume greets us, mingling with the subtle aroma of leather from the furniture.

The clerk’s eyes light up at the sight of potential patrons, her smile widening as she takes in the Cartier on my wrist as if she’s sizing me up to see if this is about to be a waste of time.

"Welcome to La Sposa Elegante," she purrs, her attention leaving me and settling on Mia. “How can I help you this evening?”

I rest my hand on the small of Mia’s back, silently claiming her as mine. "We are here for dresses."

"May I inquire about the occasion?" the clerk asks.

"Our engagement party," I respond, the words striking the air between us like a match to a flame.

A shocked expression stretches across the woman’s face at the same time that Mia’s eyes flash to mine with surprise etched into her features.

The clerk recovers, masking her shock with practiced ease. "Oh. Well, congratulations. Let’s find you something pretty, shall we?”

She smiles at a confused Mia, and when she doesn’t return the gesture, the woman quickly shifts her attention to me. Instantly, the atmosphere around us turns awkward, but the woman doesn’t dare to react.

“This way, miss," she says while putting the dress she’s holding back on the rack.

Hesitantly, Mia follows her toward the private dressing area with me closely behind. The clerk’s heels click like a metronome on the marble floor. It didn’t dawn on me that this party was just as much news to her as it was to the clerk.

It was Evelyn’s idea because what better way to strengthen my campaign than to announce to the citizens of Chicago that not only does their beloved mayor endorse me, but I’m in love with the city’s princess.

It doesn’t matter that love was never a part of this deal. We reach the area at the back of the boutique, away from prying eyes, and she turns to face us. Her smile turns into a frown when she glances up at me.

“Um… Sir, men aren’t typically permitted in the dressing area..." the clerk begins, her voice hinting at apprehension.

My stare fixes on hers, unyielding, a silent challenge. We stay like this momentarily, me daring her to finish that statement.

She wavers under the weight of my gaze before relenting. "I guess it's fine for today. We don't have any other ladies here now, so why not?"

"Sounds good," I reply.

Mia huffs, shaking her head as she steps into the dressing area. I take in the luxurious fabrics draped on mannequins, the plush carpet that swallows the sound of our steps, and the gilded mirrors that reflect a world both opulent and confining.

There’s a loveseat in the corner next to a gold end table. I walk over and lower myself on the hard cushion, mentally noting that while it may have looked nice, it isn’t nearly as comfortable.

"Your size and preferred style?" the clerk asks Mia, pulling me from my reverie.

"Size eighteen, and just show me what you have," Mia responds, her tone devoid of interest—a transactional exchange, nothing more.

“I can do that. Would you two like a beverage while you try on clothing?” the woman offers, attempting to warm the sterile encounter.

A glance passes between Mia and me before she replies, "Two bottles of water, please."

With a nod, the clerk hurries away, leaving us on an island of seclusion amidst a sea of satin and silk.

“Why must you assert yourself in every room you’re in?” Mia asks, digging into me the moment we’re alone

I stare at her, confused. “Excuse me?”

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