Page 4 of Convenient Vows

The strength of his body as it covers mine, shielding me from death.

I squeeze my eyes shut, pulling the blanket up to my chin as heat creeps across my cheeks.

“He is so fierce,” I whisper into the dark, my voice barely a breath. “And so… brutally handsome.”

The words taste strange on my tongue, making my heart flutter awkwardly in my chest.

Why am I thinking about that right now?

Why can’t I stop picturing his face?

The realization comes slowly, sinking into me like a pebble dropped in still water, sending ripples through everything I thought I understood about myself.

I’m… having a crush.

My first.

And it’s not on some boy at school.

It’s on him — the cold, dangerous man who saved my life tonight.

I bury my face in the pillow, a shaky, embarrassed laugh escaping my throat as the truth settles in.

I’m a damn naughty girl.

They say the worst mistakes are the ones you plan—and tonight, I planned mine to perfection.

I’ve been dreaming of this moment for months. Not the party itself—no, that’s just an excuse. What I’ve been craving is the taste of freedom, something sharp and intoxicating, something that reminds me I’m alive and not just a fragile ornament locked behind my father’s endless walls.

They call me the princess in the luxury glass cage. Everyone does. It’s whispered at parties, murmured in schools, and plastered across the gossip blogs. Mara Delgado—gorgeous, privileged, and untouchable. People admire me, envy the clothes, the cars, the polished world wrapped around me like silk. But none of them know the truth.

The truth is, I’m a prisoner. Everyone can see me, but no one lets me breathe. No one dares get close. My life is a performance, scripted and controlled to the last second. And I’ve had enough.

So tonight, I break out.

“Are you sure about this?” Camila whispers beside me, her eyes darting nervously to the gates of our elite boarding school.

I nod, pulling my oversized hoodie tighter around me. “I’ve never been more sure.”

Valentina grins, tossing her long hair over her shoulder as she slips the fake ID into her pocket. “We’re gonna have the best night of our lives.”

I don’t answer. Because this isn’t about the party. This is about me reclaiming something that’s been stolen piece by piece since the day I was born—control.

We slip past the guards exactly as planned, disguised in baseball caps and baggy sweatpants, looking like we belong anywhere but here. The decoy car circles the block, and by the time my father’s men realize we’re missing, we’ll be long gone.

The adrenaline rush is electric. As we speed away from the campus, windows down and music blasting, I laugh—really laugh—for the first time in months.

We’re free.

The party is already in full swing when we arrive.

It’s bigger than I expected—rows of luxury cars parked outside a sprawling villa on the outskirts of the city. Music thunders through the walls, and flashes of neon cut across the night sky. The place is packed with cartel heirs, influencers, and people who thrive on the edge of power.

I step out of the car, heart racing. For once, no one stares at me like I’m fragile. No one’s watching me like a hawk. I’m just another girl in a sea of reckless youth.

And it feels incredible.

We push through the crowd, Camila grabbing my hand and dragging me toward the bar. Someone hands me a drink—a sparkling something—and I take it without thinking. One sip, then two. It’s sweet and light, and for the first time in forever, I don’t feel the weight of my last name crushing me.

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