Journal Entry

Hell neither hath fury like a woman scorned.

Nor beauty like a beast capable of feelings.

SORROW GREETS ME LIKE an old friend as I face myself in the mirror. The last time I attended an occasion for famiglia , it was the day we were forced to act as the world did. And so we paid our respects to Giancarlo, even though none of us believed he was dead.

It's been over a month since then, but the truth hasn't changed for us. We all still believe Giancarlo is alive, just like how we also believe the person responsible for his disappearance is one of us.

Famiglia .

I take one last look at my reflection. Braided hair, a white chiffon dress, and matching heels.

I look younger than my years.

Frailer .

Maybe even kinder than how I feel.

And that's exactly how it's supposed to be.

We all have our roles in our famiglia , and mine is to be everyone's idea of an unthinkably weak link.

Lorenzo's already waiting for me by the foot of the stairs when I come down, and sinful thoughts of retribution temporarily fade at the sight of him.

Oh, heart, do please be still!

It's my first time to see my husband dressed in a tux, and he looks so impossibly handsome that the green-eyed monster inside of me has already started gnashing its teeth.

Women will be all over him for sure, grrrrr.

His infamy as the Beast of New York may have once made Lorenzo an outcast, but it's just how this world works that the moment he became mine, other women started plotting to steal him away.

"You look like a princess," Lorenzo says as he reaches for my hand.

"I'm delighted to hear that since you look like a prince yourself."

My husband only grunts. I still have my work cut out for me when it comes to convincing him of his good qualities.

I'm about to step past him when my husband pulls me back. "Not so fast."

My heart skips a beat as he hands me a box.

"Open it," he murmurs.

My fingers tremble as I do as he says, and inside the box is the loveliest diamond necklace. It's slim enough to be discreet, but heavy enough to make it eye-catching.

Lorenzo's expression is pure masculine satisfaction as he surveys my appearance. "You should be able to wear it every day."

I can't help but laugh. "Diamonds and denim, really?"

"Why not?" my husband asks seriously. "You can pull off anything."

This man's sweetness will seriously be the death of me, and I end up even closer to Death's door when he pulls me to his lap as soon as we're inside his car.

"Wha—-"

My voice trails off in understanding when his mouth latches to the side of my neck.

Oh, Renzo.

When he's done marking me, he's already wordlessly pulling my head down, and I can't help but blush even as I obey his silent order.

I know he's doing this for me, but it's going to be my first time to see my famiglia with matching hickeys with my husband, and...

UGH .

It's so much worse than I could ever imagine.

With digital panels covering every inch of the ceiling, wall, and floor, modern technology has turned illusion into reality, and what should've been just a hotel ballroom has been transformed into a grand hall of gilded mirrors and shadows.

Quite befitting of our host, the so-called Prince of Darkness, but because of the way the side of my neck is still smarting—-

I might as well be blind to the magic and beauty of my surroundings, with my older brothers now standing in front of me and simultaneously crossing their arms over their chests.

Uh. Oh.

I feel like squirming to no end as they stare grimly at the glaring evidence of my husband's mark. Their wives aren't any help, with not one of them even attempting to keep a straight face.

Really, guys? Really?

I square my shoulders and lift my chin.

Am I embarrassed to death that my brothers have to see my hickey?

Absolutely .

But because I don't want to risk having my husband think I'm ashamed of him again, I decide to brazen it out and smile brightly at my brothers. I'm thinking I should just say something (anything!) to change the subject, but just as I open my mouth, I hear a familiar voice gasp from behind.

"Is that a hickey?"

And of course, it's no one but Sarica.

Grrr.

Lorenzo's hand settles on the small of my back as we turn around, and I fight against the urge to cover my neck when I see Sarica also accompanied by my grandmother.

"I did not expect this from you, Lorenzo," Nonna says.

My husband only looks at her, and my grandmother turns to me with an exasperated look. "Is he like this with you, too?"

I look at her blankly. "Like what?"

"That."

"I don't understand."

The older woman's gaze turns cunning. "I see."

And because I've known her my whole life, I know she'd never say that without reason.

There's definitely something Nonna sees but I don't, and when I glance at my husband, I'm stunned and absolutely upset to see his high-boned cheeks faintly flushed.

No!

I automatically reach up to cover his cheeks. "Stop it!"

In the corner of my eye, I realize I've taken my whole famiglia by surprise, and all of them have tensed as if expecting war to break out any moment.

Oh no.

I'm about to assure them this is nothing serious when I notice how Lorenzo's cheeks have darkened with color.

I stare at him accusingly. "You promised!"

" Mi dispiace. " My husband's tone is gruffly apologetic.

"At least tell me why." Because I've warned him already. Women already find him irresistible as it is, but the moment they realize and see for themselves that the supposedly terrifying Beast of New York is capable of blushing like this?

I look around in a panic, and it's exactly as I feared.

Most of the women around us are gobbling him up with his eyes, and I only feel even worse when I hear Sarica start to laugh.

"Am I getting this right?" the other girl asks. "You wanted to stop him from blushing because it makes you jealous?"