Pov: RyuuI got home late that night—so late that I didn’t expect to find Beatrice still awake. She sat on the bed, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, a book propped against her bent knees. Her dark hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, and the thin camisole clinging to her body did nothing to stop my eyes from trailing down the length of her legs. I forced my gaze away, muttering a curse under my breath as I headed straight for the bathroom. I needed a long, scalding shower to wash off the stench of another wasted day chasing ghosts. The hours spent gathering intel on Vincenzo Espósito had only left me with more questions and a deeper frustration gnawing at the edges of my patience. His release was inevitable, but what it meant for me—for all of us—was still uncertain. And uncertainty was something I couldn’t afford. Steam billowed around me as the water pounded against my back, but it did little to ease the tension tightening my muscles. When I stepped out, rubb
POV: Beatrice“What exactly is my role here?” The question slipped out before I could stop it, the weight in my chest pressing down like a stone. Fukui’s usual smirk faltered, his gaze flicking to his father as if searching for direction. Seeing him caught off guard brought me a fleeting, bitter satisfaction. “Your role?” Gojou echoed, his sharp eyes settling on me with unsettling precision. I held his gaze, refusing to shrink under the scrutiny. His thumb and forefinger rested against his chin, and I could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind. Every instinct screamed at me to tread carefully, but I pressed on. “Yes, my role. I was told I’m here to be the perfect wife, to uphold the Morunaga legacy,” I continued, my voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath it. “But what exactly am I supposed to do? Just sit here day after day, waiting for someone to tell me what my life should be?” I could feel their amusement, their unspoken taunts hanging heavy in the air. They
Point of View: BeatriceLeaving my cozy little house in Palermo wasn’t something I wanted, but my father had other plans. With my twenty-first birthday looming, he organized a family trip to the Bahamas. A celebration, he called it, though I had a sinking feeling there was more to it. My father didn’t do simple. ***“Dad?” I called, my voice soft as I wandered barefoot through the hall of the rented villa. The place was beautiful, all sleek wood floors and breezy blue walls, but the tension in the air made it feel stifling. I followed the trail of muted voices and faint cigar smoke to the office—his sanctuary, even on vacation. Knocking sharply, I pushed the door open without waiting. He was seated behind a massive desk, head bowed, hands pressed to his temples. “Bea,” he said, looking up, his usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion. I crossed the room in seconds, throwing my arms around him. He held me close, his hand brushing through my hair, but there was a stiffness to his
Point of View: BeatriceI lay sprawled on the hot sand, a book in hand, sunglasses shielding my eyes, and a scowl planted firmly on my face. My black bikini and yellow sarong said “relaxed,” but nothing about this felt like a tropical vacation. My hair, braided back, was a mess of loose curls that refused to cooperate—much like my mood. Trapped on this island with my father and the Morunagas, I had no idea how to process any of it. Pretending to be okay with an arranged marriage to a man I’d never met was exhausting. Unfortunately, solitude in a house full of alpha males was harder to find than a peaceful family dinner. “I finally get to meet the infamous bride,” a smug voice interrupted, cutting through the sound of the waves. I didn’t even bother hiding my annoyance as I looked up. Nitta Morunaga, Ryuu’s youngest brother, stood over me, smirking like he owned the beach. He dropped onto the sand without waiting for an invitation, his tattooed chest and arms on full display in n
Point of View: RyuuThe conversation in the sitting room buzzed around me, but I barely registered it. My father, my brothers, and the Carbone patriarch were talking business or something close to it, the laughter and clinking glasses grating on my nerves. Small talk had never been my strength. Beatrice’s absence was glaring. She’d pulled back during dinner, her discomfort radiating like heat. I didn’t blame her. No one would be thrilled about being handed over to a man like me, especially with so little warning. Her unease wasn’t personal. It wasn’t even surprising. This arrangement wasn’t ideal for either of us, but it wasn’t about what we wanted. It was about the families. The business. The sharp flick of a finger against the back of my neck yanked me out of my thoughts. I turned, already irritated, and found my father standing there, his expression stern.“We were talking to you,” he said, his tone low but loaded with warning. Before I could respond, Nitta chimed in, gri
Point of View: RyuuAfter Beatrice stormed out earlier, I tried to bury myself in work, but my focus was shot. She lingered in my mind, an infuriating distraction I couldn’t afford. I didn’t want to think about her—the sharpness in her tone, the defiance in her eyes. Yet, every time I closed my laptop or looked away from the screen, there she was. With a frustrated sigh, I shoved my laptop aside and pinched the bridge of my nose. The work piling up was nothing compared to the mess this marriage had become, consuming my thoughts like a fire I couldn’t extinguish. “You’re slipping, big brother.” Nitta’s voice sliced through the silence, followed by the sound of his footsteps crossing the room. Without looking up, I knew he was smirking. “What do you want, Nitta?” I muttered, not bothering to hide my irritation. He dropped into a chair across from me, lounging like he owned the place. “You should’ve heard her,” he said, his grin widening. “Beatrice called you an idiot—to her
Point of View: BeatriceDario, the second eldest of my cousins, had always been the quiet, brooding type—the kind of man whose presence alone carried weight. It made me uneasy sometimes, but today, his stoic calm was a relief. Anton and Lex, still teenagers at nineteen and seventeen, felt more like brothers, full of youthful energy and sharp opinions. “A pleasure to finally meet you,” Ryuu said, extending a hand to Bion, the eldest of my cousins. Bion clasped his hand firmly, his silence speaking volumes. The low grunt that followed made his disapproval abundantly clear. To my surprise, Ryuu didn’t rise to the bait. His unreadable expression barely wavered as he gently took my hand. The touch was brief but purposeful, his lean into my space deliberate. His lips hovered closer than necessary to my ear, a gesture calculated to make me feel trapped. “I’ll leave you with your family,” Ryuu murmured, his tone smooth but distant. Then he straightened and walked away, his retreat as
Point of View: BeatriceI’d been hiding in the kitchen, stealing a rare moment of peace, when Gojou Morunaga found me. His sharp gaze swept the room before landing on me, and the disapproval in his expression was clear before he even spoke. “Leave the food to your aunt and the others,” he said, his tone clipped. “You should check on Ryuu. He looks like an angry bull trapped with those idiots. If he doesn’t escape my nephews soon, they might not survive until the wedding.” I froze mid-motion, fingers fumbling with the apron tied around my waist. Was he joking? I glanced at my aunt, but she avoided my eyes, her focus fixed on the vegetables she was chopping. No one else in the kitchen dared to look up either, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. With a shaky breath, I removed the apron and left the kitchen, Gojou’s words trailing me like a shadow. I found Ryuu exactly where he’d been earlier—on the veranda, surrounded by his brothers and a cluster of cousins. The air w
POV: Beatrice“What exactly is my role here?” The question slipped out before I could stop it, the weight in my chest pressing down like a stone. Fukui’s usual smirk faltered, his gaze flicking to his father as if searching for direction. Seeing him caught off guard brought me a fleeting, bitter satisfaction. “Your role?” Gojou echoed, his sharp eyes settling on me with unsettling precision. I held his gaze, refusing to shrink under the scrutiny. His thumb and forefinger rested against his chin, and I could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind. Every instinct screamed at me to tread carefully, but I pressed on. “Yes, my role. I was told I’m here to be the perfect wife, to uphold the Morunaga legacy,” I continued, my voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath it. “But what exactly am I supposed to do? Just sit here day after day, waiting for someone to tell me what my life should be?” I could feel their amusement, their unspoken taunts hanging heavy in the air. They
Pov: RyuuI got home late that night—so late that I didn’t expect to find Beatrice still awake. She sat on the bed, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, a book propped against her bent knees. Her dark hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, and the thin camisole clinging to her body did nothing to stop my eyes from trailing down the length of her legs. I forced my gaze away, muttering a curse under my breath as I headed straight for the bathroom. I needed a long, scalding shower to wash off the stench of another wasted day chasing ghosts. The hours spent gathering intel on Vincenzo Espósito had only left me with more questions and a deeper frustration gnawing at the edges of my patience. His release was inevitable, but what it meant for me—for all of us—was still uncertain. And uncertainty was something I couldn’t afford. Steam billowed around me as the water pounded against my back, but it did little to ease the tension tightening my muscles. When I stepped out, rubb
POV: BeatriceBy morning, there was no sign Ryuu had come back after his abrupt departure the night before. I tried to push it aside, convince myself it didn’t matter—but it did. The feeling gnawed at me, the weight of being left out, of being deliberately kept in the dark. It was clear now—he had secrets, and he wasn’t even trying to hide it. I knew better than to expect honesty from a man like Ryuu. In his world, knowledge was power, and he wielded it with precision. If he wasn’t willing to share, fine. But that didn’t mean I had to sit around and do nothing. If Ryuu wouldn’t talk, I’d find someone who would. “Fukui,” I called the moment I spotted him in the living room after breakfast. He was hunched over his laptop, fingers moving with an almost mechanical rhythm, his expression locked in that perpetual state of brooding focus. “I need to ask you something.” Without looking up, he sighed. “Is this going to take long?” His impatience was obvious, and I should’ve been annoye
POV: BeatriceLying in bed with my phone in hand, I scrolled through the evening news highlights, doing my best to ignore Ryuu’s stormy presence across the room. He hadn’t slept here once since we got married, so why now? Why tonight? All I wanted was to shut out the world, turn off the lights, and get some much-needed rest. Instead, he moved through the room like a thundercloud, muttering under his breath and slamming drawers with enough force to rattle the dresser. The party had been a draining spectacle. We’d left early, but even so, the endless social pleasantries and fake smiles from his oversized, power-hungry family had left me exhausted. Now, Ryuu’s relentless racket was transforming my exhaustion into a pounding headache. “Ryuu,” I called, my voice soft but laced with irritation. I didn’t look up from my phone, but I could feel his gaze flick toward me. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught his perpetually annoyed expression—his default, it seemed. “Are you planning to ke
POV: RyuuMy eyes stayed locked on Beatrice as she moved through the room, her presence commanding attention in a way that felt almost defiant. She carried herself with a confidence that was equal parts captivating and infuriating, her chin held high, her gaze steady, and her lips curved into a smile that hinted at secrets only she knew. Watching her maneuver through a room full of Morunagas—each more venomous than the last—was like watching someone walk a tightrope over a pit of snakes. And she made it look effortless. I told myself it was annoyance that kept my attention on her. But even as I fed myself that lie, I couldn’t deny the strange pull she had on me. She was supposed to be an inconvenience, a burden, yet here she was, standing out in a sea of my polished, posturing relatives. Then I saw it—the sapphire brooch pinned to her dress. It caught the light, flashing like a taunt, and my chest tightened. The brooch had belonged to my mother, an heirloom Beatrice had worn on our
POV: BeatriceWhen the woman finally approached our table, I smoothed my expression into a mask of indifference, carefully concealing my curiosity. It was obvious Fukui knew her, and judging by the tension radiating off him, their history was far from simple. Watching him squirm provided a spark of amusement, but I couldn’t let my guard down. Strangers who mingled with the Morunaga family rarely came without hidden motives, and this Sophia was no exception. “Fukui,” she greeted, her tight smile failing to reach her sharp, calculating eyes. Her gaze flicked to me, assessing and unrelenting, as though she were dissecting my very presence at the table. “Sophia,” Fukui replied curtly, his jaw tightening, hands vanishing from view as though he were bracing for something unpleasant. Sophia’s posture screamed confidence, from the subtle arch of her brow to the way she cocked her hip with the ease of someone accustomed to being the center of attention. Her eyes dropped to the wedding ba
POV: Beatrice “I didn’t know you were so charmed by my sparkling personality and conversational skills, Hime,” Fukui said, his voice smooth and dripping with sarcasm as he glanced up briefly from his phone. “You’re being an ass,” I retorted, the heat of frustration prickling at my cheeks. “You’re the only adult I’ve spoken to all week besides Nitta, and forgive me if that’s been less than fulfilling. And by the way, I don’t have any money, so you’ll have to pay.” Fukui scoffed, but his teasing smirk softened the edge of his reaction. When the café attendant greeted us and took our order, he handed over several bills with a bored efficiency that somehow made the mundane act look annoyingly graceful. “Can I have your number?” I asked, nodding toward his phone. His brow arched in surprise, amusement flashing across his face. “You want my phone number?” “I don’t have any of your numbers,” I said flatly, trying to ignore his smug expression. “That doesn’t seem particularly smar
POV: BeatriceWhen I stepped into the kitchen that morning, the sight of Fukui leaning casually against the counter sent a ripple of déjà vu through me. He was immaculate, as always, dressed in another impossibly tailored suit that made me feel even more disheveled in my oversized sweater and messy ponytail. It was barely seven, and his sharp gaze met mine briefly before I looked away, pretending to be engrossed in the steam curling up from my coffee. The porcelain mug burned against my palms, but it was nothing compared to the searing intensity of his scrutiny. I knew I looked a mess. A restless night of tossing and turning had left me drained, and Ryuu had been the root of it. Again. Our constant clashes gnawed at my patience, and I had no doubt that Fukui, with his unnerving perceptiveness, could see every frayed edge of my composure. “Another coffee and a fresh serving of bad news?” I muttered, thinking back to our last encounter in this very kitchen when he’d delivered one of
POV: BeatriceThe suitcases sat in the foyer as I passed, gleaming and expensive, their unfamiliarity sending a ripple of unease through me. For a moment, I wondered if Ryuu might be throwing me out. The thought wasn’t entirely unwelcome—I’d gladly leave if I had anywhere to go. But the truth was, I didn’t. I didn’t even know if my father was still in Los Angeles or if he had returned to Palermo with the rest of the family. And even if he were nearby, living with him would be as suffocating as staying here. When I entered the kitchen, the scent of something savory greeted me. A woman I didn’t recognize stood at the counter, humming softly as she stirred a pot. Her presence startled me—another staff member I hadn’t met. “Mrs. Morunaga,” she greeted, not needing an introduction. Her tone was warm but carried a formality that reminded me of Mena. “Would you like to eat in tonight?” “That sounds fine,” I said, trying to return her politeness with a smile that felt forced. Her ta