Marrying The Enemy: My Ex's Worst Nightmare

Isabela Walker POV

The boutique didn't just smell of expensive perfume; it stank of money and judgment.

It was the kind of place where the staff assessed your shoes before they deigned to look at your face.

Kason sat on a velvet sofa, idly scrolling through his phone, looking like a king on a bored throne.

Dalia was in the fitting room, barking demands at the flustered salesgirl.

I stood by the rack of clearance items, where Kason had told me to wait like an obedient dog.

"Isabela!" Dalia screeched. "Get in here!"

I walked into the fitting area.

Dalia was wearing a white gown that was two sizes too tight and far too low-cut.

She looked like a desperate housewife trying to relive her prom, the fabric straining against reality.

"I need you to hold the train," she said, kicking the delicate fabric toward me. "And don't wrinkle it with your sweaty hands."

I bent down and picked up the lace.

Kason looked up from his screen, his expression flat.

"Dalia, pick a dress for Isabela," he commanded. "She can't go to the wedding looking like a homeless person. It reflects badly on me."

Dalia's eyes glittered with malice.

She went to the rack and pulled out a dress with a sneer.

It was a shapeless, unforgiving shade of mustard-yellow.

"This one," she said. "It suits her complexion."

I took the dress.

I didn't argue.

I went into the changing room and put it on.

The dress was hideous—a silhouette meant to drown a figure, not flatter it—but I had learned a long time ago that armor comes in many forms.

I pulled my hair up, exposing the long line of my neck.

I walked out.

The silence was instant.

Even in the ugly dress, I stood tall.

My skin glowed against the harsh yellow, turning the sallow color into a rich gold.

I didn't look like a sack of potatoes.

I looked like a statue draped in sunlight.

Kason's phone lowered.

His eyes traveled up my legs, lingering on my waist, and finally stopping at my lips.

For a second, the familiar hunger was back.

Dalia saw it.

Her face twisted into a mask of jealousy.

She grabbed a glass of champagne from the tray on the table.

"Oh, look at you," she said, her voice shrill. "You think you're so special."

She lunged forward.

"Oops!"

The champagne splashed across my chest.

The cold liquid soaked into the fabric, turning the yellow into a dark, sticky amber.

It dripped down my legs, ruining the illusion instantly.

"So clumsy," Dalia sneered. "Now look what you've done. Kason, she's ruined the dress. You'll have to pay for it."

Kason stood up.

He looked at the stain, then at my face.

He didn't offer me a napkin. He didn't move to help.

"Clean yourself up, Isabela," he said coldly. "You're embarrassing us."

The bell above the door chimed.

The air in the room changed instantly.

It became heavier, sharper—charged with static.

"I believe the lady didn't spill it," a voice said.

It was a voice like grinding stones. Deep. Dark. Dangerous.

I turned.

Hadley Payne stood in the entrance.

He was taller than Kason, broader in the shoulders, filling the doorway like a storm cloud.

He wore a black suit that cost more than this entire building.

His eyes were gray, like a winter storm, and they were fixed on me.

Kason stiffened. "Payne. This is Oneal territory."

Hadley ignored him.

He walked straight to me.

He took off his suit jacket.

He draped it over my shoulders, covering the stain, covering the shame.

The warmth of his body heat enveloped me.

He smelled of sandalwood and the metallic tang of gunpowder.

"Put the dress on my tab," Hadley said to the terrified salesgirl. "And the cleaning bill for the jacket."

He looked at Dalia.

"If you ever touch her again," he said softly, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper, "I will cut off the hand that holds the glass."

Dalia went pale.

Kason stepped forward, his fists clenched. "She is my ward, Payne. You don't tell me how to handle my property."

Hadley turned his gaze to Kason.

It wasn't a look of anger.

It was a look of pity.

"She isn't property, little prince," Hadley said. "She's a queen you were too stupid to keep."

He put a hand on my back.

"Let's go, Isabela."

I didn't look at Kason.

I didn't look at Dalia.

I walked out of the boutique with the enemy, and for the first time in my life, I felt safe.