Wedding dresses.

The life-changing moment for every bride. It's the same in every movie — finding the magical dress to make them feel like a princess. They stare at themselves in the mirror in awe, twirling around like they're in a fairytale.

That isn't possible for me.

No matter if I find an extraordinary dress, the person I'm meeting at the end of the aisle ruins it. Damien wrecks every aspect of my life. Thank god, he's too busy in Silay to fly out here for my dress fitting. However, that doesn't mean Damien hasn't picked out his preferred dresses. Or graces me with the presence of his infuriating family.

"Isabela!" Mama Moltisanti yells, banging her knuckles on the door. "I brought two more dresses for you to try on! They're Damien's favorite."

I mentally bang my head against the wall and consider leaping out the window. Death surely would beat this, right? Cracking the door open, Mama Moltisanti squeezes through the cracks with her arms full of dresses, crushing her back from the weight. I would help, but I don't care enough.

It might make me an awful person for not helping an elderly lady, but she birthed the spawn of the Devil. The dresses drop from her hands, slipping into a massive pile on the ground of the dressing room.

She heaves in and out, wiping the sweat on her forehead. "Those were heavier than I thought. Try on some more, darling! I'm going to go get another glass of wine."

"Great!" I say with sarcasm.

Grabbing one of the dresses on the floor, my arm nearly plops off like a doll piece from the weight of the fabric. From a single glance, I already know I will hate it. A ruffly feathery strap dangles across my shoulders, connecting at the waist to form a train. It's horrendous. How did this end up in Damien's top ten picks? He had to be high. I don't even want anyone to see me in it, but Mama Moltisanti will come in and check to make sure I try on every single one.

Shuffling my feet to the podium, I sigh, staring at myself with disgust. "Option two-hundred and twenty-four."

Mama Moltisanti gasps. "Oh... That's something."

Rumbling laughter explodes behind me, along with the pounding of a pair of legs. "What the fuck is this? You look like a fucking flamingo. Who picked this?"

My resting bitch face shines bright. "Your brother."

"Of course," he scoffs, shaking his head. "Damien always had poor taste." I blink, twisting my head to the side and staring at Lorenzo indifferently. "Except for you, sweetheart." He winks, flashing a million-dollar smile. "You're his only good decision."

My stomach churns with nausea. "Wow. How nice of you. Damien does set the bar really high."

Lorenzo rests his tumbler on the table and boosts himself to his full length, causing me to crane my neck. His blonde hair is gelled to the left side of his head. It's more like a strawberry blonde from the amount of gel on it. Lorenzo's hair is so stiff-- I think a bug can run into it and die from the force.

"There's no need to brag, Isabela." Lorenzo's throaty voice causes chills to climb up my spine. He abruptly drops his hands on my shoulders, causing my body to tremble. "I know how much you love my brother."

"Honey!" Mama Moltisanti shouts, waving her cell phone in her hand. "Stand next to Izzie! You can be a stand-in for your brother."

He groans. "Fuck no. I'm wearing basketball shorts and a hoodie."

Frustration mars her face. "I told you to dress nice. Today is a very important day for Izzie."

"What does that have to do with me?" Lorenzo whines, flopping to his chair. "Ask Julian to do it. He's getting paid to do nothing, and Julian is wearing a suit. Hit two birds with one stone."

My eyes widen in panic for a split moment. I don't want to give Damien's family an inkling of my feelings for Julian. My heart gallops. Fudge. I hope my cheeks aren't turning red. My eyes flutter over to Julian in the corner of the room, glancing outside the window sill.

"My job is to keep Isabela safe," Julian says, cracking his knuckles, his gaze never leaving the outside.

Lorenzo arches his half-shaved brow. "From what exactly?" He rounds his chair, striding closer to Julian with his hand in his shorts pocket. Julian's shoulders tense up. He knows Lorenzo is challenging him, but why? I find his lack of emotions extremely sexy. I hate myself for it.

Julian's eyes never leave the windowsill. My heart falters when I see a glimmer of an object in Lorenzo's hands. That better not be what I think it is. I suck in a breath. Lorenzo pulls the pistol out of his pocket, raising his arm to line up with Julian's head.

I blink.

A bullet fires

The entire world shifts.

Mama Moltisanti screams bloody murder.

Using one arm, Julian twists Lorenzo's wrist, causing the gun to fire through a collection of dresses while his other hand braces a revolver in front of his skull. A menacing smile creeps on Lorenzo's face as he loosens his hold, his pistol dropping to the ground. A bullet soars through the window, leaving the entire window intact except for the small hole in the glass.

"You're better than I thought." Lorenzo darkly laughs.

"Boys! Boys!" Mama Moltisanti sobs, fanning herself with the catalog. "Stop all the fighting. You better hope none of those dresses was Isabela's favorite. Julian, hurry up and stand next to the future bride."

He spins the revolver on his pointer finger to show off before shoving it into his blazer pocket.

The inside of my cheeks aches from being chewed on. My lips are too noticeable. I had to resort to my cheeks. Being next to me seems like the last place Julian wants to be. I know he likes me. He can deny all he wants, but what's the point of my crush returning my feelings when he refuses to make a move? I can't stay and wait around for him.

There are only so many weeks before I say I do.

If he doesn't want me, then I'll find someone who does.

Mika always said sex could be meaningless. That's how I want my first time to go. I've already decided. Julian and I wouldn't work, anyway. We're cut from the same cloth. Two broken people can't fix each other. It's only the lust and excitement of performing a sin. Nothing else.

Julian's shoulders glide across my naked ones.

Mama Moltisanti squats, tilting the phone back and forth to get a good angle. "Don't be shy, Julian. Izzie doesn't bite. Hold her at the waist. The way my son does."

His jaw ticks. The butterflies in my tummy skyrocket when his arms circle around my waist, pulling me closer to his warmth. Fudge. Why is the universe doing this to me? It's like we're cosplaying as the fake couple that goes to prom together. Awkwardness fills the air. My body craves to be up against his.

Desiring more.

My guilty thoughts.

Sweet baby Jesus.

My head swims. "What does everyone think?"

Lorenzo massages his temples. "I still think you look like a fucking bird. It's a no for me."

"Who made him captain?" I mutter under my breath.

Mama Moltisanti sports a nervous smile as she nods her head in agreement. "I have to agree. Hopefully, Damien doesn't like this. Try on dress two-hundred and forty-five. It has a tag on it, okay, dear?"

I huff, trying to bury the aggravation. "Alright, suocera."

Hauling the train on the floor, I drag my feet to the dressing room and lock the door to get a breath of privacy. Any ounce of enthusiasm evaporates like water on a windowsill as I buckle to the ground. I don't want to do this anymore. It doesn't matter. My opinions don't matter. Mama Moltisanti and Damien will make the final call.

I drop my head onto my knees, hugging them close. There's no point in acting as if nothing is happening. In a month, I'm going to Mrs. Moltisanti. My stomach churns with the idea. I'm going to have to sleep next and with Damien. The thought causes chills to run up my spine. I need to pull myself together.

Damien can marry me, but that's all he's getting. My virginity, first kiss, first orgasm. All of it will be my decision. I wanted it to be with Julian, but he's made himself clear. His job matters more than me. He doesn't want to risk it.

Jaxon will have to do.

With my deadline, I don't have time to be picky.

He's cute and sweet.

That's all I need.

Enough thinking. Let's get this day freaking over with!

My arms bend back at the zipper, trying to tug it down, but it doesn't budge. What the heck? Sweat trickles down my forehead as I repeat the process twenty times, failing every single effort. Does the universe have a vendetta against me? Icy thorns prick my skin.

In a rampage, I swing the door open, smacking the dressing room wall as I shout, "Suocera! Suocera! I need your help."

My eyes widen in embarrassment, eradicating all the rage flickering within when Julian pops in frame, scratching the back of his neck. "Mrs. Moltisanti had an emergency. She will be back in twenty minutes. Lorenzo went with her."

I blink, tapping my nails on the wooden frame. "What was the emergency?" Did the universe throw me a bone by letting Damien get in a mysterious car crash?

Julian clicks his tongue. "Starbucks. She had a sudden craving for a Cinnamon Dolce latte."

My eyebrows jump. "Did she offer me one?"

He shakes his head.

"Figures."

Julian clears his throat. "What did you need her for?"

Flames of heat inch up my neck as I brace myself to stare him in the eye—his glamorous cyan irises with those thick eyelashes framing them. Holy moly. How do I breathe again? Oh right. In and out. I can't interpret the emotions in his eyes.

"The zipper is stuck..." My voice lowers as I finish the sentence. "I was going to ask her for help."

Julian nods. "No, can do then." He steps inside, standing behind me as his finger grazes the zipper.

My heart hammers. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He cruelly says, his breath fanning the nape of my neck. "I'm going to help you get out of the dress."

Turning away, I press my back against the security of the wall and wrap my arms over my body. The feathers on my left shoulder fall forward from the tight coil on my breasts. Horror flashes through me. If I looked in the mirror, I would confuse myself for Casper, the friendly ghost.

"Y-You can't." My voice trembles. "It would be inappropriate."

A low rumble vibrates through Julian's chest as he inches closer, barricading me between the wall and him. "Inappropriate?" His finger glides down the slope of my shoulders right above my breasts. "You didn't seem to have a problem with it when you were on your knees in front of me. What? Changed your mind?"

My breath hitches as I try to form a precise sentence in English. "No te imaginas las ganas yo tengo."

(You don't imagine the desires I have.)

A line of fire embarks on my skin when Julian nudges his finger to my back, tugging on the zipper. "Bellissima... Tell me what you want me to do?"

My throat clogs up. "N-Nothing. There are people here--my future husband's family. Just help me take the dress off. Please."

Julian exuded an intimidating energy, fusing my skin as he drops his head, piercing my eyes with his berry-blue irises. "You always want to be brave when we're alone, but with others watching, you act all shy. It's cute."

"Cute?" I recite in disgust.

Most people would celebrate the honor of their crush, thinking they're cute-- except me. I want Julian to want me. Physically. Being called cute doesn't exactly receive that type of emotion. That's something you say about a dog or a stuffed animal. Not someone you want to sleep with.

I twist my backside towards Julian, my eyes peering at the zipper. Every muscle tenses as he drags the zipper at an excruciatingly slow pace. My eyes flutter close as I practice breathing in and out through my nose. Flutter ignited in my gut. The fresh air hits my body, causing goosebumps to erupt on my skin.

Hopefully, that's because of the lack of clothing.

I have one simple objective.

Torture Julian the same way he does to me.

The heavy weight on my body falls to the ground, forming a puddle at my feet. Heat scorches my cheeks. Thank god, I woke up this morning wanting to wear a white lace thong. How embarrassing would it have been if I had worn my teddy bear boxers? I force the urge to cover myself down my throat like a massive pill.

It's an instinct because of my father.

It was always what he wanted, not what I wanted.

Julian grabs a wedding gown from a hanger, knocking it to the floor with a -thud-. It's nothing like the books I devour day and night. Julian doesn't bat an eyelash, placing the dress over my chest to shield me. I know my assets are smaller than other girls, but I didn't think he would be disgusted by it.

His irises soften. "You're shaking." His large hands grip my shoulders, stroking his thumb in circular motions. "Miss Arias, don't ever do something you're not one-hundred percent comfortable with. Especially with me. Promise me."

"O-Okay."

He shakes his head, lowering his voice to a demanding tone. "Promise me."

My arms hug the fabric against my skin, wanting to bury myself under fifty sheets of snow. "I promise."

A knock on the dressing room causes my entire body to jolt, releasing the hold on the dress. Lorenzo pokes his head in, blinking with an intrigued expression as he lingers on my bare body and Julian's clothed one.

"Mama wanted me to give you this." Lorenzo slings the mug at Julian, but he catches it without a glance at him. "Nitro-cold brew. Five calories. Mama said perfect for weight loss."

A grimace stretches across my face. "Great. Thanks."

Couldn't even spare a frappuccino for me?

Lorenzo eyes me closely, inspecting the crime scene he's marched in on. Terror pumps through my bloodstream. If Lorenzo has an idea of my feelings for Julian, then it's over. More scars to go along with the others.

He smirks, rubbing his hand over his lips. "Mama chose a perfect time to get back here." I clutch the material in front of me, my face red and hot, trying to diffuse and act as if everything is ordinary. "Hurry up. She's waiting for the next dress."

"Okay."

Julian bounces out of the room, following Lorenzo, slamming the door shut behind him. Let's get this over with already. Julian's dress is the next best thing. It fits like a glove, not needing to unzip or tighten it.

When I glance in the mirror, I nearly weep. It's beautiful. I feel like a princess. The sleeves hang off my shoulders with a short ruffle sleeve, an elegant alternate against the corset trim with a bow. It's a sophisticated ballgown like cinderella, flouncing with the border of a circle frame.

I sniffle.

A damp sensation dwells on my cheek.

My hand jumps to the spot, feeling the stream of tears down my face.

Am I crying?

The door swings open. "Miss. Arias, Mrs. Moltisanti said it's very apparen- why are you crying?" Julian would catch me right at the worst moment. I glance away, fanning my eyes to stop the stupid, freaking tears. "Is it because of what I said? It's not because I don't want to. It's because you're uncomfortable."

I shake my head. "It's not about that."

Julian's dark, thick eyebrows lower. "What's wrong, Bellissima?" His touch sends a shockwave of security. For some reason, I believe he won't tattle on me like a few weeks earlier.

My hands squeeze around my hair, collecting two clumps in my palms, kneading them. "It's so stupid."

"Don't invalidate your feelings." He braces his palm over mine, the security of his aura shaking me down. "I want to hear. I want to know. I want to be the person you seek for."

My eyes sting and blur my vision. "It's ju-st-- this dress. It's so me. I feel so beautiful in it. And I want to buy this one. It's the one, but Damien taints my perception of it. What's the point of wearing a dress I love when I'm marrying a freaking jerk face! I wish I had never found it."

"I can't tell you what to choose," Julian begins, licking his lips. Those plump, thick, rosy lips with a beauty mark on the corner of his bottom lip. It's more noticeable in the light. "But I do want to say one thing-- 在我眼里你是最美的. 我为你疯狂"

(You're the most beautiful in my eyes. I am crazy about you.)

His foreign sentence sends a whirlwind of confusion to my snail pace brain. What does that mean? Out of all the languages I speak, he chooses the one I know nothing about. Figures. I can't decipher if it's supposed to be helpful or not, but I pull myself together.

It's my wedding day.

Probably my only wedding.

If I don't wear this dress, then I'll live life regretting it, and I have enough to repent on to last a lifetime.

What a lovely chapter to spend wedding dress shopping... at least if you were happy about the wedding 😂😂😝...

What do you think about Damien's brother Lorenzo? Funny or in the dumpster with his brother?

What about the tension in the dressing room? Did I have y'all kicking your feet in excitement? Heheheh 🤭🤭🤭

Thank you so so so much for supporting my story, and I hope you stick around to see where Isabela and Julian goes from here... 💜💜💜

Love ya💜💜