4: Acting the Part

Point of View: Ryuu

After 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 grandfather, no less. What the hell did you do to piss her off that badly? You’re lucky it wasn’t Father who overheard.”  

“This isn’t funny,” I snapped, my voice low and sharp.  

“Oh, but it is.” His laughter was loud, deliberate. “The mighty Ryuu Morunaga, undone by his own fiancée. I’d have better luck winning her over than you.”  

I shot him a warning glare, my patience hanging by a thread, but before I could respond, the door swung open.  

Beatrice stormed in, her steps purposeful and her glare laser-focused on Nitta.  

“Control?” she said, her voice slicing through the room. “This is the second time you’ve made a sexist comment. Do I need to explain to you how outdated your thinking is, or would that be too advanced for your intellect?”  

Her tone was calm, but the fire in her eyes was unmistakable.  

She crossed the room with deliberate confidence and perched on the arm of my chair without hesitation, completely ignoring me. Her focus was entirely on Nitta, who for once looked caught off guard.  

I leaned back, keeping my expression neutral, though I couldn’t deny the faint flicker of amusement. Watching Nitta—cocky, insufferable Nitta—squirm under Beatrice’s glare was unexpectedly satisfying.  

“What do you think women are? Shelf decorations?” she demanded, her words sharp enough to leave a mark. “Don’t mistake me for the kind of girl you think you can conquer or control. I’m part of a mafia family just as powerful as yours.”  

Nitta shoved his hands in his pockets, his smirk faltering. “Looks like you two are going to be a nightmare of a couple,” he muttered before slinking out of the room.  

As the door clicked shut, Beatrice let out a slow breath, tension radiating from her. Her cheeks were flushed, her anger still simmering beneath the surface.  

“I’m not as bad as you think,” I said quietly, my gaze shifting to her.  

She didn’t look at me, her eyes fixed on the door Nitta had disappeared through. That bothered me more than I expected.  

“You don’t know what I think,” she replied, her tone clipped.  

“We need to figure out how to coexist,” I said, testing the waters. “If we’re going to convince anyone we’re happily married, we can’t keep doing this.”  

Her silence stretched, heavy and deliberate. The fire I’d seen in her earlier—the spark that made her so impossible to ignore—was gone. She felt colder now, more distant.  

Her words, when they came, were flat and devoid of emotion. 

“I’m a good actress.”  

Then she stood, her movements precise and unhurried, and left without a backward glance.  

The faint scent of her perfume lingered in the air, but it wasn’t enough to mask the lingering tension she left behind.  

Her words echoed in my mind: I’m a good actress.

Too good. She had no intention of letting me in—and I had no idea how to change that.  

***

Point of View: Beatrice

I felt sick. Not the kind of sick that comes from a cold or bad food—this was deeper, sharper, clawing at my insides like a warning I couldn’t ignore.  

One day. That was all that stood between me and a life shackled to Ryuu Morunaga.  

The commotion outside grew louder—the hum of voices, laughter, and footsteps as more guests arrived. Mostly Morunagas, I guessed. The thought of stepping out there made my stomach churn. Pretending to be enamored with Ryuu under so many watchful eyes, especially those who would see through the facade, felt impossible.  

A loud knock at my bedroom door snapped me from my thoughts.  

“Beatrice!” my father barked, his voice sharp with irritation. “Stop hiding and get out here. People are waiting.”  

I ignored him, brushing my hair with deliberate slowness. For the past week, I’d managed to avoid him, and I wasn’t about to break my streak now.  

“Beatrice!” The pounding grew louder, but I kept my back to the door, my movements steady and controlled.  

When his yelling finally stopped, I let out a bitter laugh, tossing the brush onto the vanity. But the anger simmering inside me wouldn’t stay contained.  

I yanked the door open so hard it rattled on its hinges.  

My father stood there, flushed and seething. His anger might have once intimidated me, but not anymore.  

“Is this what you wanted?” I asked, my voice trembling, not with fear, but with fury. “Do you think yelling is going to change anything? You gave me away like a pawn in one of your deals. And now you’re angry because I’m not smiling through it?”  

His glare faltered, just for a second, and that small victory burned brighter than anything I’d felt all week.  

I didn’t wait for his response. Without another word, I pushed past him and made my way toward the beach, the sound of laughter and faint music growing louder with each step.  

My heart raced as I prayed my aunt and cousins had arrived. I needed them now more than ever.  

When my feet hit the sand, conversation around me faltered. Heads turned, and the hum of voices dropped into a quiet murmur.  

At least I’d spent the day preparing. My dress was immaculate, my makeup subtle but flawless. If Gojou Morunaga expected perfection, I’d deliver it. Playing the part was my armor—my only way to survive this night.  

“Beatrice.”  

His voice cut through the noise like a blade. Gojou Morunaga approached with his unnervingly polite smile, the kind that made my skin crawl.  

I forced myself to nod, lips curving into a practiced smile. It was enough to satisfy him, and he quickly returned to his conversation, leaving me momentarily relieved.  

That relief was short-lived.  

A hand brushed my elbow, and I flinched before I could stop myself.  

I turned to find Ryuu behind me, his expression calm but unreadable. His hand moved to my waist, the cool fabric of his shirt brushing my skin.  

My pulse quickened as he leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear.  

“Good actress, aren’t you?” he murmured, his tone smooth but edged with challenge.  

He pulled back just enough for me to catch the faint smirk tugging at his lips. My chest tightened with irritation, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.  

Ignoring him, I glanced past his shoulder, spotting my father as he made his way toward the crowd. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Ryuu watching him too, his gaze sharp and calculating.  

“You look beautiful,” Ryuu remarked, his voice cool, distant.  

The words felt hollow, and the hand on my waist slid higher, his thumb brushing the fabric of my dress. The small gesture sent an involuntary shiver down my spine, and Ryuu’s smirk deepened, as if he’d won something.  

I stepped away, forcing his hand to drop. 

“I’m going to see my family,” I said, nodding toward my cousins, who stood slightly apart from the crowd.  

Ryuu didn’t argue. Instead, he surprised me by taking my hand. His grip was firm but not tight, and for once, he didn’t seem to care about the stares that followed us as we crossed the sand.  

I ignored the warmth of his hand against mine and focused on the four familiar figures waiting for me.  

“Bion!” I called, my voice bright with forced cheer.  

“Bea,” my eldest cousin greeted, his smile tight and wary.  

I dropped Ryuu’s hand the moment we reached them, stepping into Bion’s arms. His embrace was firm, grounding, and I clung to him longer than I probably should have.  

“Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice low.  

“Surviving,” I whispered, pulling back just enough to press a quick kiss to his cheek.  

Turning, I met the concerned gazes of my other cousins, who watched me like hawks. They knew this marriage was a sham, and they didn’t bother to hide their skepticism.  

For the first time all week, I felt a glimmer of relief.  

They wouldn’t let me face this alone.