Journal Entry

Why has no one warned me about my husband being a gentleman?

I STILL FEEL SLIGHTLY faint as Lorenzo takes me into his arms and carries me out of the chopper. But instead of setting me back on my feet, he ignores my half-hearted protests and refuses to let me go.

The road leading up to his place is long and winding, but I eventually have my first glimpse of my new home, and it's nothing like what I expected.

At all.

Even before our flight back to New York, I had already given myself a pep talk about needing to appreciate whatever his residence looks like. And in my mind, I had pictured something big, black, and fortress-like. Something that would fit his image and reputation as the Beast of New York.

But instead, it's the opposite.

His home is grand and old and beautiful, a palazzo surrounded by lush greenery and scenic mountain views, and is that the sound of a running brook I'm hearing?

Lorenzo finally lowers my feet to the ground. "What do you think?"

The question makes my heart race for some reason. His beautiful face is impassive, but I still can't help thinking my answer matters to him.

He wants to know what I think of his home.

Our home.

And oh, how the thought alone makes my head reel!

My old home in Boston was in the heart of the city, and my dorm was no different. Both were located in the heart of the city, and there wasn't a day I didn't see, hear, or feel the hustle and bustle of fast-paced living.

But now that I'm Lorenzo's wife...

Nature greets me from every corner, but instead of feeling isolated and overwhelmed, I'm filled with anticipation and excitement.

Home.

This is my home now.

And when I turn to Lorenzo, I say very simply, "I love it."

A few seconds pass.

And finally, my husband responds...with a nod.

Note to self: Lorenzo is allergic to talking, definitely.

He takes my hand again before we resume walking. I'm hoping that his touch will no longer make me feel hot and bothered, but it's a futile wish. My body is on fire, and my heart is no better, with the way it insists on galloping away like a racehorse out to win a championship.

His staff is all lined up to congratulate and welcome us when we enter the palazzo . Lorenzo gruffly introduces me to his majordomo , a one-legged ex-SWAT whose demeanor reminds me so, so much of Francisco that I find myself fighting back tears as the older man introduces the rest of the household.

It's not that I want to go back, but I just suddenly miss how my life used to be.

(Come back, Giancarlo, please come back!)

"If there's anything you need, please let me know, signora, and I will do my best to assist you."

I push my sadness away and summon up a smile for Lorenzo's majordomo.

" Grazie, Teo. I appreciate the offer very much, and I'll likely take you up on it sooner than later."

Lorenzo continues with the house tour after dismissing his staff, and my heart starts racing anew when we make it to the second floor. All I can suddenly think of is the fact that we're about to share a bedroom—-

"And this here," my husband murmurs, "is your bedroom."

Or not.

"Teo will have the rest of your things up shortly."

Are we seriously not sharing a bedroom?

"Rest for now. We'll have dinner at seven."

All I can do is stare helplessly as Lorenzo turns away.

Is this for real?

But then my husband suddenly turns back to face me, and I can't help holding my breath.

Is he going to take it back?

"I almost forgot."

Lorenzo reaches for my hand—-

Yes, yes, yes.

—-and gives me back my phone.

"I didn't mean to read your messages," he says tautly. "But I want you to know that I meant it when I said you are safe with me. I will only be your husband in name. I give you my word."

I think I'm in shock again.

Because I've just realized that it's not my husband's word that I want but his body.