3: The Bride’s Defiance

Point of View: Ryuu

The 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, grinning like the devil. 

“Father thinks you should stop ignoring Beatrice and actually engage with her. You know, before the wedding.”  

“Maybe a conversation would help,” Giorgio Carbone added with a dry chuckle.  

I spared him a glance, noting the calm calculation behind his words. Giorgio wasn’t like my father, who demanded respect outright. He was quieter, but no less dangerous—a man who observed before he struck. Someone who could be a powerful ally or a nightmare of an enemy.  

So instead of dismissing his comment, I nodded. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”  

That was the last contribution I made to the conversation. My brothers, as always, had plenty to say without me.  

When I finally retreated to my room, leaving behind the noise and tension, I thought I was free. But Nitta’s footsteps echoed behind me, his presence as unwelcome as ever.  

“What now, Nitta?” I asked, not bothering to hide my exhaustion.  

He shrugged, staying silent for a moment, which was unsettling in itself. As I reached my door, he jabbed my arm, his grin firmly back in place.  

“Beatrice, huh?”  

“Don’t,” I said flatly, turning to meet his gaze with a warning look.  

He raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk intact. “Relax. I’m not planning anything. I mean, why would I need to? You’re doing a great job of scaring her off all on your own.”  

I let out a slow breath, already regretting indulging him.  

“She was so tense at dinner,” he continued, leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world. “I thought she might throw up on your plate. You’ve got a real gift with women, brother.”  

“How kind of you to notice,” I muttered, brushing past him to open my door. “But I don’t need your advice, Nitta.”  

He chuckled, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press further.  

Once inside, the quiet of my room was a welcome relief. I leaned against the closed door, letting out a slow exhale.  

Beatrice’s reaction to me didn’t bother me. How else was she supposed to feel? We were strangers being forced into a marriage neither of us wanted. She didn’t know me, didn’t trust me—and why would she?  

But still, something about her stuck in my mind. It wasn’t just her beauty, though that was undeniable. It was the fire beneath her unease—the way she’d held her ground at dinner, refusing to let her father silence her.  

That kind of defiance was rare in our world. Admirable, even.  

Beatrice Carbone wasn’t going to be a passive wife. 

Maybe this marriage wouldn’t be the disaster I’d expected.  

***

Point of View: Beatrice

After a sleepless night of pacing and overthinking, I’d had enough. The tension between Ryuu and me wasn’t going to fix itself, and if I had to endure another day of silent indifference, I’d lose my mind.  

Fueled by sheer determination—and frustration—I stalked through the villa, my curls bouncing in rhythm with my agitation.  

I found him in the sitting room, seated at a sleek black laptop, his brow furrowed in concentration. Of course, he was working. It was like he didn’t know how to exist without it.  

The man’s wardrobe didn’t help matters either. Black slacks, white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Did he not realize we were in the Bahamas?  

I lingered in the doorway for a moment, waiting for him to notice me. He didn’t. His fingers flew over the keyboard, his focus unshaken.  

Clearing my throat, I forced his attention.  

Finally, Ryuu glanced up, raising an eyebrow over the rim of his glasses. The slight gesture was infuriatingly casual, as though I were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.  

“Yes?” His voice was calm, even, and thoroughly uninterested.  

“Do you ever stop working?” I asked, stepping into the room and settling into the chair across from him.  

“What else should I be doing?” he replied, not even bothering to pause his typing.  

My jaw tightened. The view outside was postcard-perfect—sunlit waves, endless blue sky, a breeze practically begging you to enjoy it—but here he was, glued to a screen like we weren’t surrounded by paradise.  

“You could try acting like a human being,” I snapped, my tone sharp.  

He stopped typing. Slowly, he leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixing on me with cold precision. 

“Why did you come here, Beatrice?”  

“Because this… situation isn’t working,” I said, gesturing between us. “I get why your father wants this marriage, but why did you agree to it?”  

His expression didn’t change, but something in his posture shifted—more guarded, more calculated. 

“Because it benefits my business.”  

“Your business,” I repeated flatly.  

“Luxury condominiums,” he said smoothly, the lie delivered without hesitation.  

I scoffed, my patience wearing dangerously thin. 

“Right. Condos.”  

We both knew the truth. This marriage wasn’t about real estate; it was about power. My family’s name would shield the Morunagas from scrutiny while their influence solidified our position. A match made in hell.  

“Were you expecting a different answer?” he asked, a faint smirk curving his lips. “Would you prefer I say I’m madly in love with you?”  

My temper snapped. “Don’t flatter yourself,” I shot back.  

His gaze sharpened, and for a moment, the air between us felt charged. “You’re attractive,” he said bluntly, his voice cool. “But don’t expect romance in this marriage.”  

The audacity of his words left me momentarily stunned. Then a sharp laugh escaped me. 

“Wow. How generous of you.”  I stood abruptly, my blood boiling. “You’re insufferable.”  

Ryuu didn’t flinch, his composure maddeningly intact. 

“I’m just being honest.”  

“Well,” I said, my voice trembling with restrained fury, “spending any more time with you is likely to give me a migraine.”  

With that, I stormed out, my steps echoing down the hall.  

If this was any indication of our future, I wasn’t sure how I’d survive it.  

***

“No. Absolutely not. I cannot marry that man!”  

I burst into my grandfather’s study, pacing as I ranted. The image of Ryuu’s infuriatingly calm expression was still fresh in my mind.  

My grandfather, of course, found the entire situation amusing. “Beatrice,” he said, his tone calm but firm, “the two of you are more alike than you realize. You’ll balance each other.”  

“Balance?” I repeated incredulously. “He’s a cold, calculating workaholic who treats people like chess pieces. How exactly am I supposed to balance that?”  

His sharp gaze cut through my frustration, quieting me instantly.

“Because you’re fiery. You challenge him. That’s what he needs.”  

I crossed my arms, glaring at the floor. “What about what I need?”  

“You need to be smart,” he said, his voice softening but still laced with warning. “Ryuu is your match, but Gojou Morunaga will not tolerate defiance. Learn to control your tongue, Bea. Your future depends on it.”  

The weight of his words settled heavily in my chest.  

He wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t approach this the way I handled my own family. With the Morunagas, every word, every action would be a test. Defiance wouldn’t just be frowned upon—it would be crushed.  

I sighed, dropping into the chair across from him. My independence, my freedom to speak my mind, was slipping through my fingers.  

After the wedding, I’d be trapped in a world where every move was dictated, every step scrutinized. There was no escaping it.  

This was my reality now.  

Accept it—or risk everything.