Chapter 8

Mira’s POV

Such assholes as friends.

I guess birds of the same feather flock together, right? I think that’s how the saying goes, anyway.

I could feel their bloodthirsty gazes the moment I walked past them. I knew I drew attention in every room I stepped into, but with the number of women they fool around with, I didn’t think they’d still look at me like prey.

Well, I curse myself for having a great body—one that’ll probably go to waste when death comes knocking like I haven’t suffered enough already.

The day dragged on, and the loud noises from fully grown ass men slowly faded into silence.

Great. Now I had to attend dinner with my boss, and I didn’t have a single decent outfit in this pile of luggage I dragged into this house.

As I rummaged through my things, a knock came at the door.

“It’s Patricia, Miss Mira.”

“Oh, come in,” I said as the door opened right away.

Despite the hatred I held for Alejandro Montenegro and every corner of his godforsaken household, there was one exception that made me feel the slightest bit welcome: Patricia.

“What’s that?” I raised a brow at the large box in her arms.

She walked in, shut the door behind her, and gently set the black box on my bed.

“It’s from Mr. Montenegro, miss,” she said with a warm smile.

I hesitated for a second before resting my hands on the box and slowly lifting the lid. Once opened, there it was—the most gorgeous red dress I’d ever laid eyes on, paired with sleek black heels and a small folded note.

I picked up the note, reading it silently.

Look good for tonight.

Now the only thing on my mind was, who sent it? Alejandro or his dad? Because the stuck-up Alejandro couldn’t possibly be this thoughtful… right?

“That’s a beautiful dress, miss. It’ll look stunning on you,” Suzy said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I gave her a small smile. “I agree. But who exactly is it from?”

“One of the guards handed it to me and asked that I say the same thing I just said. It’s from Mr. Montenegro.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

She gave a little bow and left quietly.

Mr. James had no idea he’d just saved my poor ass from the judgmental stares of his arrogant son.

I couldn’t wait to finish this damn job, collect my money, and vanish.

Dinner was set for 8 p.m., and by 7, I’d already taken a warm bath and sat before the large mirror, ready to paint my face into something decent.

It didn’t take long. I tied my hair into a sleek ponytail, swiped on a bold red lipstick, and slipped into the dress. It hugged every inch of me just right.

When the mirror finally agreed I looked perfect, I doused myself in the most expensive scent I owned and made my way downstairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, Alejandro was mid-puff with his cigar when he froze. His eyes swept over me from head to toe, lingering at the slit of the dress like it was teasing him on purpose.

At that point, I wasn’t sure if I should be disgusted or flattered by how long he stared.

Maybe I liked it.

Maybe I wanted him to know I wasn’t just some stuck-up PR consultant here to straighten out his life. I was much more than that.

He wore a black tux that framed his broad shoulders, and his dark curls dangled messily over his forehead. The cigar between his fingers just made him look like sin in human form.

“Earth to Mira,” I muttered under my breath, giving myself a little shake. I straightened up, held my head high, and walked towards him.

“I think we should leave, so we don’t keep Mr. Montenegro waiting,” I said, tone cool and professional.

Alejandro chuckled, took another drag, and brushed past me as he strolled out toward the car.

“What a jerk. Didn’t even give me a compliment. Not like I wanted one anyway,” I grumbled inwardly.

“You coming or what?” Alejandro called from ahead.

Without thinking twice, I followed him toward the parked car.

“Good evening, Miss Martinez,” Manuel greeted, appearing behind me.

I offered him a polite smile. “Good evening, Manuel.”

He opened the door for Alejandro, who got in. Then he circled back to mine, but I stopped him with a raised hand.

“I can handle it,” I said, and he nodded before heading to the driver’s seat.

I grabbed the front door handle, but before I could open it, Alejandro stepped out again, a scowl forming on his face.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

My brows furrowed. “Trying to get into a car? Thought that was obvious.”

“I’m not that fat, Mira. You could’ve taken the backseat.”

What the hell was his problem now?

I wanted to snap at him, tell him to mind his own damn business, but I held back.

With a heavy sigh, I rolled my eyes, shut the front door, and climbed into the back.

The drive was long, painful, and soaked in silence—just the hum of the engine and the rain dancing on the roof above us.

Eventually, we pulled up to the Montenegro estate, and if I thought his penthouse was fancy, this mansion was more of a castle, straight out of a Cinderella movie.

It was massive. Ridiculously grand. Like something royalty would own.

But as I stepped out of the car, the rain picked up. And suddenly, Alejandro was right there beside me, holding an umbrella over our heads.

His hand brushed the small of my back. So firm, and possessive.

“I said look good tonight,” he murmured, voice low and smooth, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. “But I didn’t say make it this hard to behave.”

I froze. The dress was from him?

His chuckle was deep and sinful as the rain poured around us. “Since you accepted my gift,” he whispered, eyes flickering down to the curve of my waist, “maybe I should be the one to help you take it off… after dinner.”

Never in my entire life had I been so disgusted, confused, and ridiculously intrigued all at once.

And the night hadn’t even begun… but I already felt trapped.