Elina leaned back in the armchair in Rachel's room, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest. Rachel sat across from her, with Jaxon perched casually on the windowsill, looking almost too relaxed for the gravity of the situation. But there was no mistaking the tension in Elina's eyes—she was ready to fight back.
"So," Rachel said, breaking the silence with a grin, "we know what you want. But we need to make sure your parents get the message loud and clear—this whole matchmaking thing? It's not happening."
Elina let out a frustrated sigh. "Exactly. But how do I make them understand without completely going overboard? I don't want to look like I'm just throwing tantrums."
"Subtle sabotage," Jaxon chimed in, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "We go for elegance, but with a twist. Let's think of ways to make each suitor leave thinking, 'No thanks, I'm good.'"
Rachel's eyes sparkled with mischief. "I like this idea. Okay, let's break it down. We need to play to each guy's weaknesses. First up—if the guy's all about looks and charm, you need to play up the 'clumsy' act. Trip over your own feet, spill the drink, knock over the silverware."
Elina raised an eyebrow. "That'll definitely make them uncomfortable, but what if they think it's just an accident? I need something more deliberate."
"I got it!" Jaxon said, hopping down from the windowsill. "If he's all about the power and sophistication, you show up looking completely out of place. Forget the dress—wear something ridiculous, like a t-shirt with 'I love pizza' written on it. Act like you're bored and can't care less about his 'business talk.' Make it obvious that he's wasting his time with you."
Elina grinned. "I like where this is going."
Rachel leaned forward, hands on her lap. "Now, if he's looking for a docile, obedient wife? That's easy. You just... be impossible. Argue with him over everything. Don't agree with a single thing he says. Keep asking him the most ridiculous questions, make him second-guess his life choices."
Jaxon chuckled. "And if he wants to know if you're 'well-read' or 'intelligent,' just start talking about how you've always been fascinated by the idea that the Earth is flat. Watch his brain short-circuit when he tries to correct you. Bonus points if you pretend you're genuinely baffled by his 'science' talk."
Elina laughed out loud, shaking her head. "Perfect. I can already picture the look on their faces."
"I can help with the looks too," Rachel added. "I'll make sure you're dressed in the most hideous outfits. I mean, if we're going to do this, we're going all in. No chic dresses—just oversized sweaters and frumpy skirts. When they think you're not even trying, they'll be disgusted enough to get out early."
Elina's eyes gleamed with determination. "If they're into beauty and grace, let's give them chaos and catastrophe. The more they care about looks, the faster they'll run when they see me."
"What about the ones who aren't into beauty and elegance? The ones who like the simple, quiet types?"
Rachel smirked. "Then you do the opposite. Loud voice, flashy makeup, too much perfume—talk non-stop about shopping and gossip. Laugh at your own jokes and don't let them get a word in. They'll be running for the exit before dessert."
Jaxon nodded, clearly enjoying the plan. "And if one of them's arrogant? Make sure to be overly humble. Apologize for everything. Get them so uncomfortable that they can't stand being around you."
Elina grinned as a spark of excitement pulsed through her. "This is brilliant. I'm going to make sure they all regret sitting down across from me. Thanks, you two. You've got my back, and I've got a plan now."
"Of course," Rachel said with a wink. "This is what best friends are for. We'll get through this, one awful date at a time."
Jaxon stretched his arms above his head. "We're basically going to have a front-row seat to the most entertaining show. Watching your parents squirm when every suitor runs for the hills? That's going to be priceless."
Elina stood, a fierce fire igniting in her chest. "I'm going to show them that I won't just bend to their will. If they want to play games, I'll make sure they lose."
With a determined smile, she turned to face the window, her reflection staring back at her. This wasn't just about rejecting suitors anymore—it was about taking control of her life. And with Rachel and Jaxon by her side, she knew she had a fighting chance.
Over the next few days, Elina prepared herself for the role she was about to play.
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Elina stood before her mirror, examining herself in the deep crimson dress her mother had carefully selected. The fabric clung to her curves, elegant and refined, the epitome of the perfect daughter she was expected to be. She applied a final coat of lipstick, her reflection showing the carefully crafted image of a woman who could effortlessly fit into the world her parents envisioned for her—a world she didn't belong in.
"Tonight will be just another act," she muttered to herself, a hint of defiance in her voice. The words felt hollow, but they were necessary. She would play her part, for now.
As the car rolled through the quiet streets, Elina mentally prepared herself for what was coming. A dinner with Leonardo Moretti, a man whose reputation preceded him. He was a man of tradition, of wealth, of family connections—exactly the kind her parents wanted her to marry. But tonight, he would meet a different version of her.
The car slowed to a stop outside La Vigna, an exclusive Italian restaurant known for its immaculate service and clientele. Elina caught her reflection once more before stepping out. Her mother would be proud.
Inside, she found Rachel and Jaxon already waiting by a corner table. Rachel raised an eyebrow as she spotted Elina, taking in the graceful figure in the crimson gown.
"Ready to make him run?" Rachel asked with a mischievous grin.
Elina smiled, walking to the restroom. "I'll be back in a minute."
Inside the restroom, Elina took a deep breath. She quickly changed into the most unflattering outfit she could imagine: a loose, unkempt black sweater, baggy jeans, and scuffed boots. Her hair, which she had spent ages styling, was now disheveled, and her makeup had been removed, leaving her with a natural, almost tired look. It was the kind of look that screamed indifference.
When she walked back to the table, Rachel and Jaxon barely contained their laughter at the transformation. Elina could see their amusement in their eyes. This was it—the first part of the plan.
"Now, let's see how long he lasts," Elina muttered as she made her way towards Leonardo, who had already been seated, staring at the menu with an air of boredom.
Leonardo Moretti stood up the moment she approached. He was impeccably dressed in a suit that looked like it had been tailored just for him, his sharp features betraying nothing but cool politeness. He extended his hand, and Elina took it with an exaggerated limp grip, feigning complete disinterest.
"Ms. Castellano," he said smoothly, his gaze sweeping over her outfit with a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "You look… well."
"Do I?" Elina replied, her voice thick with mock surprise. "I must confess, I'm not usually a fan of these… affairs. But, you know, when my parents insist…"
Leonardo nodded, sitting down as she took her place across from him. He stared at her with intense eyes, as if trying to figure her out, but Elina wasn't interested in being deciphered. Not tonight.
"So, tell me, Ms. Castellano," he began, attempting to sound conversational. "What are your thoughts on legacy and tradition? I assume you were raised with those values?"
Elina looked at him, tilting her head slightly. "Legacy and tradition, huh? I guess I've been raised on something a bit more... wild." She smiled as she took a sip of her water. "I've never been one for rules. I'm more of a 'live in the moment' kind of girl."
Leonardo raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. "Oh? And what do you mean by that?"
Elina leaned back in her chair, taking her time as she picked at a piece of bread. "Well, I don't know about you, but I've always preferred late-night beach parties, spontaneous trips to random places, and—" she laughed, "—getting in trouble for skipping class when I was younger. You know, the usual rebellious stuff."
Leonardo's lips tightened into a polite smile, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of discomfort. "That sounds… untraditional."
"Untraditional?" Elina feigned shock. "Oh, you don't know the half of it." She gestured at herself. "Honestly, I can't even imagine being the 'perfect wife.' Sitting around all day, attending fancy events, pretending to be interested in charity galas and family dinners… Yawn. I'd rather be somewhere in the middle of nowhere, eating street food and talking to strangers about life."
Leonardo's hand froze mid-motion as he reached for his glass. He quickly set it down, his smile now strained. "I see."
"You see, the thing is," Elina continued, her tone dropping lower, as though she were letting him in on a secret, "I've never been someone who likes to fit into a mold. No, I'm more of an adventure seeker. The whole 'tradition' thing doesn't really work for me. Especially when it's so... restricting. You know, this whole—how did you say it?—'legacy' thing." She laughed lightly, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Leonardo's expression grew more rigid, his polite demeanor slipping further with each word she spoke. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly unsure how to react.
Elina leaned in, lowering her voice just enough to make him listen. "I'd rather chase sunsets on a motorcycle than sit around being 'proper.' I can't even remember the last time I did something 'proper.'"
Leonardo's jaw tightened, and he let out a stiff laugh. "I suppose I've… never met a woman quite like you before."
"That's a good thing, right?" Elina teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I'm not exactly what most people expect. But, hey, that's the fun of it, isn't it?"
Leonardo sat back, visibly uncomfortable, his gaze flickering between Elina and the menu, as if searching for a polite way to leave.
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With that, Elina had done what she set out to do—make the dinner uncomfortable and show Leonardo Moretti just how far from tradition she was willing to go.
The rejection letter arrived the next day.
That was only the beginning.
The following weeks became a parade of potential husbands, each one more tedious than the last. Wealthy mafia heirs, powerful businessmen, influential politicians—all men whose only interest in her was what her name could offer them.
But Elina had become a master of sabotage. Her tactics had become almost automatic.
To the one who demanded elegance, she transformed herself into a clumsy disaster—spilling wine, tripping over her own feet, and laughing at her own ridiculousness until he practically fled the restaurant.
To the one who expected docility and obedience, she became argumentative and impossible to please. Her every sentence, sharpened with irony, was a challenge, her every expression filled with disdain.
To the one who valued intelligence above all, she played the role of a carefree airhead, feigning ignorance at the most basic of topics. His look of absolute horror when she insisted the world was flat had been almost worth the ordeal.
If the man sought power, she spoke of peace and harmony. If he wanted beauty, she deliberately dressed down, her hair undone and her attire plain. If the man was arrogant, she presented herself as overly humble.
Each blind date ended with polite refusals and tense silences from her parents. Each rejection felt like a small triumph, a piece of freedom wrestled from their iron grip.
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