Bound to my Enemy-Chapter 31.

The mall was crowded in the way it always was in the middle of the day. Too many people. Too much noise. Music humming faintly from speakers overhead, mixed with chatter and footsteps and the occasional laugh that carried too far.

Ivy walked a few steps ahead of me, already focused, phone in hand, scrolling through store directories like this was some kind of mission.

"Okay," she said, stopping abruptly and turning to face me. "We’re doing this properly. No rushing. No panic-buying."

"I’m not panic-buying," I said.

She raised an eyebrow. "You signed a marriage contract yesterday. You’re panic-breathing."

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. She wasn’t wrong.

We started with dresses. Ivy pulled things off racks with purpose, barely looking at the price tags. She held them up against me, stepped back, squinted, shook her head, then moved on.

"That one’s ugly."

"That one looks like it’s trying too hard."

"Ivy," I said finally, "I don’t need to look like I’m making a statement."

"Yes, you do," she replied calmly. "You just don’t need to look like you’re screaming it."

We found a fitting room near the back. She shoved three dresses into my arms and pushed me inside.

"Try those first."

I did.

The first one was fine. The second was better. The third made me pause

I stared at my reflection longer than I meant to.

It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t loud. But it fit. The color worked against my skin, the cut clean and confident without feeling forced. I didn’t look like someone pretending to belong.

I looked like myself. Just more sexy and seductive.

I stepped out.

Ivy looked up from her phone and froze.

"Oh," she said slowly. "There you are."

I glanced back at the mirror. "Is that good or bad."

"That’s very good," she said. "That’s ’he doesn’t get to tell you what to wear’ good."

I changed back and handed her the dress. "Okay. That one."

She grinned. "Told you."

Next came shoes. That took longer.

Ivy insisted on heels. I insisted on not breaking my neck.

We compromised somewhere in the middle. A pair that added height without making me feel like I’d regret it by the end of the night.

Jewelry was last.

We stood in front of a glass case while Ivy tapped her nails against her chin.

"Nothing too delicate," she said. "And nothing too loud."

"Why are you so serious about this," I asked.

She shrugged. "Because people are going to look at you and I want you looking your best."

I swallowed and nodded.

We paid and left with bags in hand, the weight of them grounding in a strange way. It felt good.

On the drive back, Ivy turned the music up and sang along, badly. I let myself lean into the passenger seat and close my eyes.

For a few minutes, I almost forgot about tomorrow.

Almost.

When we got back to the house, Lucas’s car was already in the driveway. My stomach tightened.

Inside, he was in the living room, jacket tossed over the chair, phone pressed to his ear. He glanced up when we came in, eyes flicking to the bags.

He finished the call quickly and stood.

"So," he said. "You went shopping."

I nodded. "Just for tomorrow."

His jaw tightened. "You didn’t have to."

"I know."

Silence stretched.

"I don’t like this," he said finally.

"I know."

He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "This isn’t just about a dinner. Or a marriage. You know that."

"I do."

"And you’re still doing it."

"Yes."

He looked at me for a long moment, then shook his head.

Lucas looked away first.

"Just... be careful," he muttered.

I nodded. "I will."

That night, after everyone had gone to their rooms, I laid the dress out on the bed. The shoes beside it. The jewelry set neatly on the dresser.

I didn’t touch them.

I just looked.

Tomorrow wasn’t just a dinner.

It was the first time I’d be seen as his.

And whether I liked it or not, people would be watching how I walked and acted in that room.