I stare at my reflection, my lips pressing into a thin line as I take in the dress Dante f*****g picked out for me. A silver, knee-length bodycon that hugs me like a second skin, with a modest slit at the side. It's beautiful, I'll give him that…but knowing that he was the one who chose it while rejecting every single dress I actually liked? Yeah, that pisses me the f**k off.
With a sigh, I tie my brown hair into a high ponytail and swipe on some makeup…not too much, just enough to make myself look less like a hostage and more like someone who actually wants to be here. Which I don't. The only reason I’m even getting ready for this stupid family dinner is because Dante threatened me. And the worst part? He had the f*****g nerve to tell me I couldn't speak unless he gave me permission. Who
