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But that can't be true since my grandmother would never make me marry such a man.
Right?
The thought has me wanting to look for Nonna, but it's just too late.
Because he's already standing in front of me, and I...I...I don't know what to do!
Please help me, God!
The Beast of New York looms over me, and my mind instantly scrambles to absorb everything about him in seconds.
Tall, he's so, so tall.
Maybe six-seven? Or six-eight?
And broad, so broad.
I've never seen such broad, broad shoulders, and with the four brothers I have, that's saying a lot, and ooooh.
His eyes.
Green.
They're green.
Is that good or bad?
The Beast of New York has green eyes.
I've read over a hundred articles about him, and not one has mentioned this.
Not one!
My mind finds such negligence appalling for some reason, and my confusion only grows the longer he stares at me.
Are you scared, self?
The answer to this is immediate.
Absolutely!
Because every lethally powerful inch of him exudes horror-movie vibes, and it makes me want to run away and never look back.
But is that all, self?
My heart sinks to my stomach.
Or are you also...excited?
And I'm all messed up from within when I realize the truth.
Yes, oh, yes.
He scares me as much as he excites me.
But I don't know if that's a good thing.
Not when I suspect my grandmother of blackmailing him into claiming me as his bride.
