Becoming Lailah: Married to my Twin Sister's Billionaire Husband-Chapter 160: The Fitting

THE BRIDAL BOUTIQUE was not what Mailah expected.

She’d been bracing herself for something supernatural—maybe dresses that changed color based on mood, or fabric woven from moonlight, or mirrors that showed you your future.

Instead, it was breathtakingly, almost aggressively normal. Soft lighting, plush carpets, floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and racks upon racks of white, ivory, and champagne gowns that looked like they cost more than her childhood home.

"This is..." Mailah trailed off, staring.

"Overwhelming?" Liora suggested, appearing at her elbow with that knowing smile. "Welcome to bridal shopping."

"Grayson said there would be a fitting. He didn’t mention—" She gestured helplessly at the sheer volume of dresses. "This."

"He mentioned a fitting," Liora confirmed, already pulling gowns from racks with practiced efficiency. "He didn’t mention the thirty dresses you’d need to try before finding the perfect one."

"Thirty?"

"Give or take. We’ll see how you feel after twenty."

Mailah shot a look at Elin, who’d been dragged along for moral support and was already photographing everything with barely contained glee.

"You knew about this," Mailah accused.

"I suspected," Elin admitted.

"Liora does everything properly," the woman in question said, depositing an armload of gowns in the fitting room. "Now, strip. We’re starting with ball gowns and working our way to sleeker silhouettes."

"I don’t need thirty dresses to—"

"You don’t know what you need until you’ve tried them all," Liora said firmly. "Trust the process."

Mailah looked at the mountain of white fabric and felt simultaneous excitement and dread. This was every girl’s dream—the kind of wedding dress shopping montage that belonged in movies. And it was happening to her.

Her.

Mailah.

Who’d spent most of her life in hand-me-downs and clearance rack finds.

"I can’t believe this is real," she murmured.

Liora’s expression softened. "Believe it. You’re marrying an incubus with excellent taste and infinite resources. This is the least extravagant thing about your wedding."

"The least?"

"Wait until you see the venue decorations. I outdid myself."

Twenty minutes later, Mailah stood in front of a three-way mirror wearing a ball gown that made her look like a princess from a fairy tale—if that princess was drowning in tulle.

"No," she said.

"Agreed," Liora said, already unzipping. "Too much. Next."

The next dress was sleeker, more modern, with a plunging neckline that made Mailah’s face heat.

"Absolutely not," she said.

"Why? You look stunning."

"I look like I’m about to seduce someone at a corporate gala."

Elin snorted from her perch on the viewing couch. "That’s... actually accurate."

"Besides," Mailah continued, "if I’m doing a public bonding ritual, I need something that won’t make me fall out of my dress when Grayson—" She stopped, heat flooding her cheeks.

"When Grayson feeds from you?" Liora finished helpfully. "Valid concern. We need something elegant but secure. Got it."

They tried fifteen more dresses. Each one was beautiful in its own way—some too formal, some too casual, some too princessy, some too sleek.

Mailah was starting to think she’d never find the right one when Liora emerged from the back room with a garment bag.

"This one," she said with absolute certainty. "This is it."

"You’ve said that about the last three—"

"This time I mean it."

The dress that emerged from the bag stole Mailah’s breath.

It was ivory silk that seemed to glow in the boutique lighting, with delicate lace sleeves that would cover her shoulders and arms—perfect for the bonding mark that would appear on her collarbone. The bodice was fitted but not revealing, elegant without being stuffy. And the skirt—

The skirt flowed like water, layers of silk that would move beautifully when she walked but wouldn’t overwhelm her frame.

"Oh," Mailah breathed.

"Exactly," Liora said smugly. "Try it."

Getting into the dress took ten minutes and Liora’s expert help, but when Mailah finally stood in front of the mirror, she barely recognized herself.

She looked like a bride. Not just any bride—like someone who belonged in this supernatural world, who could stand beside an incubus and hold her own.

"Well?" Liora asked.

Mailah’s throat was tight. "It’s perfect."

"I know." Liora circled her, examining every angle. "The lace will cover your arms for the mark, the bodice is secure enough for the ritual, and the skirt has enough movement for dancing but won’t trip you during the ceremony."

"You thought of everything."

"That’s what you pay me for." Liora paused, her expression turning serious. "This dress is completely normal fabric. No enchantments built in. But once you choose it, I’ll have it warded. Protection charms woven into the hem, defensive runes hidden in the lace. Nothing that will change how it looks or feels, but enough to keep you safe."

The reminder of danger should have dampened Mailah’s excitement. Instead, it made her feel oddly grounded. This was her reality—a beautiful dress that would need magical protection. A wedding that was both celebration and potential battlefield.

"Do it," she said.

"Already planned." Liora pulled out her phone, snapping photos from every angle. "I’ll send these to the seamstress today. We’ll need final alterations, but the bones are perfect."

As Mailah changed back into her regular clothes—jeans and a sweater that felt impossibly mundane after silk and lace—she heard voices from the main boutique.

Male voices.

Very familiar male voices.

She emerged from the fitting room to find Grayson standing in the middle of the boutique looking simultaneously out of place and completely at ease, with Lucien and Oliver flanking him like supernatural bodyguards.

"You’re not supposed to be here," Mailah said. "Bad luck to see the dress."

"I’m not seeing the dress," Grayson said, his eyes tracking over her with an intensity that made her skin heat. "I’m seeing you."

"Still technically breaking tradition."

"I’ve broken centuries of tradition by being here at all. One more won’t hurt."

Lucien was examining a particularly voluminous ball gown with fascination. "Do people actually wear these? How do they sit down?"

"They don’t," Liora said. "They stand regally and look magnificent."

"That sounds exhausting."

"Fashion often is."

Oliver was studiously avoiding looking at anything, like being in a bridal boutique might contaminate him with unwanted matrimonial ideas.

Grayson crossed to Mailah, his hand finding her waist in that possessive way that made her stomach flip. "Did you find a dress?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"I’m not telling you anything. You’ll just have to wait and see."

His eyes darkened. "I don’t like waiting."

"Too bad. Some things are worth waiting for."

"Are you?" His voice dropped, intimate despite their audience.

"You’ll find out in three days."

The air between them thickened, charged with that constant awareness that never quite faded.

Mailah was acutely conscious of his hand on her waist, the heat of him, the way he was looking at her like she was the only person in the room.

"You two are doing it again," Lucien announced.

"Then don’t watch," Grayson said, not breaking eye contact with Mailah.

"Hard not to. You’re literally in the middle of the boutique."

"Then close your eyes."

"That’s not—"

"Lucien," Elin interrupted, "come look at this monstrosity. I need you to confirm it’s real and not a fever dream."

As Lucien was successfully distracted by what appeared to be a dress made entirely of ruffles, Grayson leaned closer to Mailah.

"You look happy," he observed quietly.

"I am. This was—" She gestured around the boutique. "I never thought I’d have this. The dress shopping, the fittings, all of it. It feels surreal."

"You deserve it. All of it."

"Even the part where my dress needs magical protection?"

"Especially that part. Because it means you’re mine to protect."

The possessiveness should have been alarming. Instead, it made her feel cherished.

Before she could respond, Liora cleared her throat pointedly. "As much as I enjoy watching you two be disgustingly in love, we have other appointments. Mailah, your dress will be ready for final alterations tomorrow. Grayson—" She fixed him with a look. "You have your own fitting this afternoon."

"I have a fitting?"

"Did you think you’d wear regular clothes to bind yourself to her for life? You need proper attire."

"Proper attire," he repeated flatly.

"Vest, jacket, the works. You’re going to look magnificent."

Despite his protests, Mailah could see the faint color on his cheeks. "Fine. But if there’s a cravat involved—"

"There might be."

"Absolutely not."

"We’ll see."

As they filed out of the boutique, Mailah caught Liora’s arm. "Thank you. For all of this. It was—"

"Perfect?" Liora supplied.

"Overwhelming. But in the best way."

Liora’s expression softened. "You’re going to be a beautiful bride, Mailah. And more importantly, you’re going to survive your wedding with your sense of humor intact. That’s rarer than you’d think in the supernatural world."

"Seriously?"

"Most people who marry into this life either lose themselves or break under the pressure. You—" She smiled. "You’re adapting beautifully. It’s impressive."

"Or insane."

"Both can be true."

Outside, the Tuscan sun was bright and warm.

Grayson was waiting by the car, talking quietly with Lucien about something that looked serious.