Journal Entry

I don't know what to make of him.

His words make it seem he's made of stone.

But his actions speak otherwise.

I know he's the Beast of New York.

But why am I suddenly so foolishly tempted to tell him he's all bark and no bite?

MANNERS MAKETH A MAN .

It was a cliché for most, but never for the Marchettis. Everyone in their world knew this, but what Lorenzo did not expect was for their courtesy to extend even to someone like him.

"Thank you for making good on your promise, Lorenzo." The matriarch was the first to address his presence."May I introduce you to the rest of my family?" Her voice alone was a masterclass in the art of psychological warfare. It was soft and elegant but underscored at the same time by steely authority.

She gestured to the pair that stood closest to her. "This is Cesare and his wife Penelope."

The second-born , Lorenzo thought as he shook hands with the couple, and his once-missing heiress bride . It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that Cesare's earlier days of violence were almost at par with the urban legends that people enjoyed spreading about him.

Potenziana walked her to the next couple, and they, too, shook hands with him.

"Massimo and Ysabel."

The charmer of the famiglia, Lorenzo recalled, but one who had also scandalously swapped one twin for another as his bride.

"Cattleya, you already know, and of course Ezio."

Lorenzo had attended Ezio's wedding to Potenziana's then-secretary two years ago. It was on that day he had his first glimpse of Gazelle, but as far as he knew, she hadn't even been aware of his presence. He had only stayed around long enough to sign their own wedding contract.

"And finally, Sarica."

The only one in the family who didn't get the memo on the dress code , Lorenzo observed. Her dress was not only a vibrant shade of red, but it was also short enough that he was certain it would have the famously conservative Giancarlo roll in his grave.

But it wouldn't.

Since he, too, believed that the eldest Marchetti heir was far from dead.

With the introductions properly concluded, attention swiftly turned to more important matters, and Lorenzo remained on his feet as he listened in quiet silence.

The Marchettis were being attacked from every side, but this came as no surprise to anyone in the room.

It was simply how things worked in their world when one smelled blood.

"I shall remain in Boston with Sarica," Potenziana declared. "Ezio and Cattleya, too. Among the four of us..." A chilling smile touched the older woman's lips. "We'll see who's foolish enough to come and try testing us."

"We will take the twins to La Torre dei Mostri and set things up in Providence," Cesare laid out. "The Pettinos and Drake Morris have agreed to meet with us there."

Drake Morris was the only FBI authority that famiglie trusted, and only because he was married to Kayra Pettinos, a mafia princess who was also an assassin in her own right. Or at least she used to be.

"Ysabel and I will head to Miami," Massimo murmured. "We will be working closely with Reid Chalkias."

The name signified Sicilian mafia royalty. It was definitely an alliance worth pursuing.

All eyes turned to him then, but it was only his wife's gaze that disconcerted him.

Would he ever get used to this?

The trust in her eyes was implicit, and it affected Lorenzo in ways that he could not even comprehend.

"Lorenzo will take Gazelle back to New York," Potenziana stated. "He will keep her safe while she continues with her studies."

It was Lorenzo's first time to hear what Potenzia required from him. The only thing she had been willing to divulge prior to her visit was that Gazelle would be his sole responsibility.

And now that he had heard where the other Marchettis had been assigned to, Lorenzo could see right away what her strategy was.

The Marchettis were making it seem that they had admitted defeat and that La Strega's grandsons had chosen to run away in the wake of Giancarlo's disappearance.

And because everyone knew that it was inevitable for a divided house to fall, those consumed by greed would fail to realize that Boston was but bait—-or that every brother would be working in the shadows while patiently waiting for their enemy to reveal itself.

It was an exquisitely intricate plan, but Lorenzo couldn't help thinking it was pointlessly complicated as well.

"You can amass your own army if you wish to. So why don't you?"

"Because we all took an oath," Cesare answered simply. "Violence is no longer our first answer to everything. But we still have our ways, only it takes more time and planning."

"And now that you are a part of our famiglia, " the matriarch reminded him, "our oath is yours as well."

He almost smiled at this. La Strega very well knew that her oath was no different from the code he had chosen to live by since his release. But because his reputation preceded him wherever he went, most people were disinclined to believe this and chose to remain blind even when evidence presented the contrary.

"I'm not sure when we'll see each other again. But what I do know is that such a day will come, and we will have Giancarlo with us then."

It was the matriarch saying goodbye, but not once did Potenziana's voice crack as she uttered every word, and her expression remained dignified as she rose to her feet.

She was the first to leave, followed by Sarica, Ezio, and Cattleya.

The other couples followed behind them one by one.

And then it was just him and Gazelle.

His wife.

She was still seated on the couch, her hands clasped loosely on her lap.

Her heart-shaped face revealed none of her thoughts, but even so.

Just looking at him had his heart clenching hard, and Lorenzo slowly found himself crouching down on one knee.

And there it was.

A flash of terror in her eyes, gone so quickly that if he didn't have years to hone his instincts, he would have been convinced he had only imagined seeing it.

She was terrified, and rightly so.

Life as she had always known it had come to its abrupt and untimely end, and none of them even knew how long it would take before it was the "right" time for her to return home.

He reached for her hands.

"I will keep you safe, wife."

She nodded.

"And one day, you will be with your family again."

Her gaze lifted to his.

But this time, instead of a turbulent shade of gray, her eyes were blue as the ocean, twin pools of trust that went far deeper than before.

"Thank you."

Her voice was soft and remarkably gentle, for someone whose childhood had been a bloodbath of murder and betrayal.

"I owe it to your grandmother. She's the reason I was pardoned."

Her lips parted in shock. "I didn't know."

"No one does," he said curtly. "All of this is your grandmother's idea. That's why you have no need—-"

She shook her head. "My grandmother had nothing to do with how you...helped me earlier. Or how you seemed to know what I need."

Ah .

"Giancarlo would not have liked it if I cried."

"Neither would I."

"No." Her swift agreement caught him off guard. "I rather thought you wouldn't have liked it either." And she proceeded to completely disarm him as a smile wobbled to her lips. "You remind me a lot of my brother."

"Then you're an idiot."

He was the Beast of New York while her oldest brother was, in many ways, a prince among thieves.

Giancarlo was a good man. And he was not.

Gazelle had to be stupid to think they were similar in any way, but telling her this didn't seem to have any effect on her.

"Maybe," she surprised him by agreeing once again.

But when he rose to his feet and offered to help her up, he heard her murmur, "Or it could be the other way around."

And it nearly had him tripping over his own feet.

What the hell?

Had his wife truly dared to say he could be the idiot between them?