Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 27333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
Teo nodded in satisfaction. "I thought so, too."
The door to the dining room swung open, and Teo's grandson came rushing in.
"Just in time," the older man said. "Give the flowers to el signore, Migo."
The teenage boy cheerfully handed over his cargo, and it was only to avoid accidentally hurting Migo's feelings that Lorenzo reluctantly found himself holding a bouquet of red fucking roses.
"Congratulations on your wedding, signore."
Lorenzo managed a tight-lipped smile. "Grazie."
Teo checked his watch. "Your wife should be coming down at any moment. We'll give you a few minutes of privacy before serving the first course."
Lorenzo didn't really hear what the older man had said nor was he was aware when grandfather and grandson quietly slipped away.
Instead, his mind was entirely focused on the flowers he was holding. Was he really going to give this to his wife? What if she thought this was an attempt to seduce her? He had promised he would keep her safe, dammit. He couldn't—-
"Oh!"
—-throw the fucking flowers away, since it was already too late.
His wife stood by the doorway, a stunning vision in ivory silk, hands over her mouth in shock.
Journal Entry
Can a man who's made of stone still grow a heart of gold?
I'M OKAY WITH A SEXLESS marriage.
I'm not okay with a sexless marriage.
I'm okay with a sexless marriage.
I'm not—-oh, Lord, why am I even wasting my time picking petals off a virtual forget-me-not flower?
I toss my phone away in a fit of frustration, and it bounces silently on the padded cushion of the divan behind me.
Lorenzo's parting words have made rest impossible. It's already been hours, and I still can't get them out of my head.
Or figure out how I feel about it.
Even worse, his staff says I'm to dress up for dinner, but they obviously don't know their beloved master has just told me I'll only be his wife in name.
I gnaw on my lip as I stare at the selection of dresses his staff has already hung neatly in my closet.
If I dress up, but he actually doesn't want me as his wife, wouldn't that make me pathetic?
But on the other hand...
A Marchetti marries for life, and if he isn't aware of that, well, then...
I shall make it clear to him, and then he can choose between a life of celibacy or sex.
With me.
Monogamously, of course.
The thought is instantly liberating, and the burden on my shoulders automatically disappears. I have no idea how I'll make that clear to my husband, but I can just pray about that.
So help me, God.
Please.
I don't let myself think of anything else after that and simply dress myself in a hurry. I don't want to give myself time to have second thoughts and lose my courage.
He's my husband.
And what I'm praying for isn't a bad thing.
Whatever happens, I'll be at peace with it.
If he still rejects me, then that's just how it is.
But if he happens to change his mind, and...
"Oh!"
A gasp slips past my lips, and I stop dead in my tracks when I catch sight of my husband.
He looks impossibly dashing and gorgeous and without a doubt the sexiest beast to ever don a suit, but it's the fact that he's holding a bouquet of red roses in his hand that makes my heart threaten to jump out of my chest.
Is that Your sign, God?
Has he already changed his mind, and I no longer have to embarrass myself by asking about it?
Has he decided it's better to make me his wife for real?
I slowly lower my hands, and as my heart starts thumping against my chest, I hear myself whisper, "Is that what I think it is?"
Oh, please, please, please.
Please let it be so, God.
Please.
And my prayers are so beautifully answered when my husband slowly nods.
The Beast of New York wants me to be his wife for real.
Journal Entry
Is it possible for a man to be a beast but also possess the soul of a poet?
LORENZO STARTED FEELING he had made the biggest mistake in his life when he saw Gazelle's face blossom like flowers unfurling into life under the summer sun, and shit, shit, shit.
What was it about this girl that kept making him act like a wordsmith wannabe?
He was once again tempted to toss the bouquet into the nearest wastebasket, but when his wife suddenly rushed towards him, and he saw the way her eyes were shining—-
He forgot what it was he was thinking, and all he could do was stare as Gazelle took the bouquet from his hands.
"It's gorgeous, Lorenzo."
It was her first time to say his name, and the sound of it was like a hammer that smashed the wall around his heart into pieces in one easy swing.
"Thank you," she said softly.
He had no fucking idea what to say, and so he stayed silent.