6: A Seat at the Morunaga Table

Point of View: Beatrice

I’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 was heavy with alcohol and loud, slurred laughter.  

His back was to me, broad and stiff in his chair. From a distance, he almost looked ordinary: dark hair, sharp shoulders, and the kind of quiet presence that turned heads. But his face—set in its usual mask of cool severity—was anything but ordinary.  

It didn’t matter how many compliments he might earn for his looks; no woman with a shred of sense would want the danger that came with him.  

Unfortunately, danger wasn’t a choice for me. I was days away from marrying it.  

I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest. Retreating back to the safety of the kitchen felt tempting, but Gojou’s order loomed in my mind.  

Drawing a steadying breath, I closed the distance between us. When I reached Ryuu, I leaned down, brushed my lips close to his ear, and whispered, “Actress in action…”  

My hand slid to his shoulder, grazing lightly over the hard plane of his chest.  

I expected him to stiffen, to flinch—anything. But he didn’t. Instead, his arm snaked around my waist, and before I could react, he pulled me smoothly into his lap.  

A cheer erupted from the group around us, laughter echoing over the sound of clinking glasses. My cheeks burned, humiliation searing through me, but I kept my face neutral, refusing to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me flustered.  

Ryuu tilted his head, his gaze locking onto mine with a flicker of amusement. 

“Well, that’s a first,” he murmured, his voice low enough for only me to hear.  

Fukui’s curiosity cut in before I could respond. “When did this happen?” he asked, raising a brow as he gestured toward us.  

“Exactly what I was wondering yesterday,” Nitta said, swirling his drink with lazy precision.  

I stiffened, unsure of what they were referring to, but Ryuu remained composed. His grip on my waist tightened, a subtle reminder of the role I was playing.  

“Stay out of my marriage,” Ryuu said calmly, though his voice carried an unmistakable edge. “You’re forgetting who’s in charge.”  

The shift in the atmosphere was instant. Fukui and Nitta sobered, their earlier smugness dissolving under Ryuu’s cold glare.  

The tension was suffocating. I shifted uncomfortably in his lap, hoping for an escape. Finally, he loosened his hold, and I slipped away without a word.  

“Dinner will be served soon,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper as I straightened my dress. Without waiting for a response, I turned and left, eager to put as much distance as possible between myself and the weight of their scrutiny.  

***

The beach was transformed for the evening’s dinner. Long tables stretched across the sand, draped in elegant cloths and adorned with elaborate floral arrangements. Candles flickered softly, their glow mirrored by the gentle waves lapping at the shore.  

It would’ve been beautiful if it hadn’t been for the reason we were all here.  

Gojou stood at the head of the main table, raising his glass for a toast. The crowd fell silent at once—no need for him to clear his throat or demand attention. His presence alone commanded it.  

“I’d like to congratulate my eldest son and heir, Ryuu, and his fiancée, Beatrice Carbone,” Gojou began, his voice deep and steady. His sharp gaze swept the crowd before landing on me. “Tomorrow, Beatrice will officially become a Morunaga. I welcome her to our family with gratitude and great expectations.”  

The crowd chuckled at his words, but the weight in his tone was unmistakable.  

“To the bride and groom!” Gojou said, raising his glass higher. “May they live a hundred years!”  

Cheers erupted, and I forced a polite smile, though my stomach twisted into knots. A hundred years. The blessing felt more like a curse.  

As the applause faded and dinner was served, Ryuu turned to speak with Fukui, leaving me effectively stranded with Nitta on one side and Gojou across the table.  

 “This is delicious,” Nitta said casually, tapping my shoulder to get my attention.  

“Yes,” I replied flatly, twirling my fork in the untouched pasta on my plate.  

“What’s wrong?” Nitta leaned closer, his voice dropping. His tone carried a familiarity I didn’t like.  

I ignored his question, setting my fork down with care. Lowering my voice, I asked, “Where’s your mother?”  

Nitta stiffened, his gaze flicking away as he shifted in his seat. His reaction sent a ripple of unease through me.  

“Don’t expect to see her,” he muttered. “She might show up for the wedding. Maybe.”  

Before I could press further, Ryuu’s arm slid around my shoulders, his hand resting firmly against me. The sudden weight of his touch silenced me instantly.  

“You’re not eating,” he said, his voice low and rough.  

I picked up my fork again, though the thought of eating made my stomach churn. His arm remained where it was, grounding me in the performance we were both trapped in.  

Every gesture, every glance, was being watched, and the mask I wore felt suffocating. Whatever questions I had about Suniza Morunaga would have to wait.  

So I smiled faintly, forcing my expression to match the polished perfection expected of me, and played my part to the very end.