CHAPTER 2

2 WEEKS LATER

Things were moving fast. The wedding was scheduled for the upcoming week. Standing in front of a bridal shop, I held a simple note from him instructing me to try on my dress for the impending ceremony. His lack of communication irked me, especially after leaving me hanging the other day. He hadn't given me the opportunity to contribute to the wedding planning.

Checking the back of the note for additional information, I hoped for a contact number or email, but it was blank. Frustrated, I sighed and decided to enter the bridal shop with a forced smile. I am Camilla Rocco, and I refuse to let my fiancé bring me down. Smiles are my usual demeanor, except when I'm genuinely angry. I hadn't even informed Camillo or anyone from my dance crew about my engagement.

"May I help you?" a polite worker asked as I entered. "Yes, I'm here to try on a dress. I'm Camilla Rocco."

She raised an eyebrow, seemingly perplexed by my brief introduction. "I'm not sure what to tell you. Lucas sent me."

Instantly, her eyes widened, and all other workers stopped to look at me. Bowing her head, she apologized, "Sorry, we didn't recognize you earlier, madam. Please forgive us."

I became so uncomfortable with the sudden formality, I said, "It's okay, get up."

"Please, madam, follow me," she led me to a spacious room with a couch and a changing area. "Is there anything I can get you, madam?"

"Call me Camilla or Camy. No need for formalities."

"I cannot do that, madam," she replied, avoiding eye contact.

"Okay, then. Can you bring me the best mermaid dresses you have?"

Looking up at me, she hesitated before saying, "Sir said you are only allowed to try on the dress he has prepared. We only need to see what adjustments need to be made, madam." I scoffed at the idea of him controlling the wedding dress choice as well. "Is it at least a mermaid dress? That's what I've always wanted."

"No, madam, it is a ballroom dress."

Determined to get what I wanted; I approached her with a smile. "You're getting me a mermaid dress. I don't care what Lucas says. I can handle him."

She stepped back. "I cannot do that, madam. Mr. Firmino made his instructions very clear." I grabbed my bag, indifferent to their rules. "Okay, then. I guess I'll be leaving now."

But she ran in front of me, slamming the door shut and locking it. Panic set in as I realized my phone had no service. I began banging on the door, demanding to be let out, but no

one answered. Thirty minutes later, I sat on the couch, vowing to give them bad reviews.

The door clicked open, and I stood up, ready to confront them. However, my anger

vanished when I saw Lucas standing there, hands in his pockets, wearing a navy-blue suit.

"You told them to do this, didn't you?" I accused.

He sighed. "Camilly, do you know that I am a busy man? Why should I leave work just because of your outbursts? Am I getting married to a child?"

"It's Camilla." "What?"

"My name is Camilla, you bastard!" I shouted.

He seemed uninterested. "I don't care. Now go be a good girl and try on the dress." "No."

He ordered the worker to bring the dress, and she handed it to him. Shoving it into my chest, he commanded, "Try it on, now."

Glaring at him, I reluctantly grabbed the dress and went into the changing room. I disliked him more with each passing moment. He upset me, and his disrespectful behaviours added to the hatred I had to him. I changed into the dress, walked out, and stated, "I can't lace this up."

The worker led me back to the changing room, lacing the back of the dress. I looked at myself in the mirror with tears streaming down my face, I hated it.

I hated Lucas!!

This is not what I want!!

The dress was beautiful, a big, white, puffy ballroom gown with gems, but it wasn't what I wanted. I preferred a simple, white mermaid dress like my mom's.

"You're all set, madam," she said. "This dress fits you perfectly." I furrowed my brow as she left the room.

"Come out, “he ordered.

"No," I boldly replied. "You are not supposed to see me in the dress before the wedding day."

There was a moment of silence before the curtains were pushed opened. My heart skipped; fear took over me. His face that usually showed no emotions now had anger written all over it.

"Did you not hear a word I said earlier?" he snapped. "It's a tradition—"

"Be quiet," he interrupted, thoroughly examining my dress. He pointed to a spot on my gown. "Fix that."

The worker nodded. "Yes, Mr. Firmino."

"Tighten that," he ordered, gesturing towards my waist. "Yes, Mr. Firmino."

"No, it's already tight!" I protested, aware that any further tightening would be uncomfortable.

He paused, then turned to look me in the face. "Did I or anyone here ask for your opinion?" Glaring at him, I retorted, "I will not tolerate disrespect."

Ignoring me, he instructed the worker, "Call Romano when the dress is ready." "Yes, Mr. Firmino."

With that, he casually walked out.