𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘
.・゜゜・
𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐃'𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 -
She's the rebellious princess of Italy. Finding herself in an arranged marriage, she does everything to fight for her freedom. However, a certain bodyguard...
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Today marks August 1st. Unfortunately, that comes with the reminder that my wedding is in 23 days. I am not happy, but I'd rather not think about that right now. I have a fashion show to attend, and I'm not going to let Marco, of all people, stop me from enjoying my life.
Sofia sighs while pinning jewels to my dress. "I am beyond jealous of you! My dream is to go to Milan Fashion Week and meet all of the designers."
Laughing softly in response, I give her a bright smile. "If I find any, I'll get their autograph for you," I tease with a light-hearted wink.
"You better," she retorts, still pinning on the jewels. The sound of the jeweled pins clicking against the soft fabric reminds me of the ticking of a clock, counting down the days of my marriage to Marco.
The handmaid backs away after she's done, admiring her work. After she's done, she grabs my shoulders and sits me up, turning me to face the mirror. "Look at how beautiful you are," she tells me. "I hope those models on the catwalk are ready to be outshined."
I stand still, facing my reflection in the mirror. My stomach churns from nerves, and my heart is beating a mile a minute. I take a deep breath and adjust my dress.
"You have nothing to worry about," Sofia assures, placing her hand on my arm. "You look stunning. Trust me, he'll regret the day he ever treated you poorly."
"I don't think so, but thank you." I give her a hug before straightening my dress some more, and then I walk out of my bedroom to go stand by Alex's side.
The bodyguard wears a well-tailored black suit with a crisp white shirt and a black tie. The suit is cut to fit his muscular build, with a narrow waist and broad shoulders. His dirty blonde hair is well-groomed with a subtle wave to it, also bringing out the color of his eyes.
It's really hard not to check him out.
"It's a long drive to Milan, just so you know," Alex comments with an arched eyebrow.
I can't help but roll my eyes. "I know, I'm not dumb." My eyes shift from him to the hallway as I start walking down without him, trying to hurry outside.
₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊ ˚✧ ﾟ.
After five brutally long and surprisingly boring hours of riding in the Ferrari my parents own, we've finally reached Milan. Alex helps me out of the car, but we're immediately greeted by a flurry of activity in the streets. Fashion journalists, photographers, and bloggers rush to get to me. The media crews set up their camera equipment, eager to capture my every move.
