deception

14|| wedding planner

                            -⎯ ୨୧ ⎯-

I awoke to a dull, throbbing ache in my head, accompanied by the soft rays of sunlight streaming through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room.

I blinked against the brightness, trying to piece together the events of last night. As I stretched, the luxurious sheets tangled around me felt foreign yet oddly comforting. But then it hit me:

I was in Lorenzo's bed.

My heart raced, not from any lingering affection but from the sheer disbelief of it all. Where the fuck was he?

I sat up cautiously, the movement sending a wave of nausea through me. The remnants of laughter, clinking glasses, and heated glances flickered in my mind like a half-remembered dream.

With a deep breath, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, feeling the cool wood floor beneath my feet. I scanned the room for any sign of Lorenzo, but it was empty. My gaze landed on the dressing table, where an outfit was laid out: a fitted mini dress and a pair of sleek heels, perfectly pressed and ready for me.

My stomach twisted in annoyance.

Why was he being so considerate? I picked up the dress, running my fingers over the fabric. It was nice, sure, but it felt like another way for him to exert control over me. Next to the outfit was a note, neatly folded. I snatched it up, recognizing his familiar scrawl.

"Good morning, devil. I know you're not feeling your best, but we have a meeting with the wedding planner. Get dressed and meet us downstairs. – L."

I scoffed at the note, crumpling it in my fist. "Devil?" I muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm.

The knock that had interrupted our moment last night had been the wedding planner, and now I was being dragged into this farce of a wedding.

"Just great," I groaned, pushing myself up. I trudged to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face, trying to wash away the remnants of last night's chaos. The mirror reflected a disheveled version of myself, hair tousled and makeup smudged.

After a quick shower, I dressed in the outfit Lorenzo had prepared. The dress was a soft black, clinging to my curves in a way that felt both flattering and infuriating. I slipped on the fitted heels, which hugged my feet just right, and the necklace that completed the look felt like a cruel reminder of the expectations thrust upon me. It was all too polished, too perfect.

As I brushed my hair, the memories of last night began to trickle back—Lorenzo helping me out of my dress, the way he'd slipped that blouse over my shoulders, the moments of vulnerability I hadn't wanted to feel. I shook my head vigorously, trying to dispel those thoughts. "Focus," I told myself. "This is a mends to piss my papa off."

With one last glance at my reflection, I headed downstairs, each step echoing my reluctance. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the faint hum of conversation. When I entered the foyer, I spotted Lorenzo in his office, his posture relaxed yet commanding as he spoke with the wedding planner, who was animatedly flipping through papers on her clipboard.

"Mercedes." he called out, his voice cutting through the noise. He stood up, a cocky grin spreading across his face as he caught sight of me. "There you are!"

"Lucky me," I replied dryly, crossing my arms as I approached. He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to my cheeks, his lips brushing against my skin in a way that sent irritation coursing through me.

"Let's get this over with," I muttered, pulling away and stepping into the room. The planner was practically bouncing in her chair, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she began detailing her grand plans.