Page 128 of Monster in Disguise

"There isn't anyone else," he finally speaks against my skin. "There was never anyone else."

"But... that woman..."

"It's always been you."

Marcello

With a deep breath, I gather the courage to tell her the truth, knowing that it could change everything between us. "It's always been you," I whisper, my eyes locked onto hers.

She pulls away slightly, her arms pushing at my shoulders as if trying to create a physical distance between us. "What do you mean?" Her voice is laced with confusion and a hint of vulnerability. "How is that possible?"

I take a step back, giving her the space she needs. "I've only ever loved one woman—you."

Her eyebrows furrow in disbelief. "You don't have to lie to me, Marcello," she says softly, almost pleadingly.

"I'm not lying," I assure her. "Not about this." My heart races as I prepare to reveal something I have kept hidden for too long. "I fell in love with you ten years ago."

"Ten years ago..." Her voice trails off as she tries to make sense of my words. "But... how?"

"It was at one of your father's banquets. You were in the garden, trying to sneak in through the back gate." The memory is crystal clear in my mind, like it happened just yesterday. "I knew then that I wanted to marry you."

A look of confusion crosses her features again. "We've never met before," she insists.

"We did meet," I reply gently. "Just outside your house." And with that, I proceed to recount every detail of the encounter that has stayed with me all these years. The moment she had captured my heart completely and irrevocably—whether she had known it or not.

Since that day, I have been hers without hesitation or question.

AGE TWENTY-ONE

Agony rips through my insides, a searing pain that threatens to consume me. My hand is desperately clutching at the wound on my abdomen, trying to stem the flow of blood. I know I won't die from this injury, but that doesn't make it any less excruciating.

I keep my head low as I trudge forward, the hood pulled over my face providing some relief from the relentless beating of father's fists.

Do I even look human anymore?

My eyes are swollen shut, one eyelid completely busted and useless. The other is barely functional, allowing only a sliver of vision through the swelling. My cheek throbs with each step, likely fractured from the repeated blows. And as for my nose...well, it probably won't ever be the same again.

But the knife wound is what catches me off guard. It's a new level of punishment from father, one that I didn't see coming. I guess I went too far this time.

Farther than I ever have before.

I had stood up to him, refused to go along with his weekly visits to brothels and engage in his depraved activities. Why should I lower myself like that? All because he is my father? No, I needed to get my life together if I ever wanted to be worthy of Catalina.

Rocco was well aware of my father's illicit activities, and by association, mine. This meant he would never agree to give me his daughter's hand in marriage. Among made men, there was one thing that was strictly forbidden: frequenting bordellos. Of course, this wouldn't matter to my father, but for any other self-respecting capo, it would be disgraceful to have his daughter married to a notorious philanderer who could bring shame upon her and their family name.

While Rocco himself was no saint, his preferences leaned towards kept women rather than paid ones. Though the distinction was minuscule, some might argue it made a difference. But when you took into account my father's penchant for debauchery... I couldn't imagine any man willingly offering his daughter's hand in marriage to someone involved in such scandalous activities.

It was clear I had my work cut out for me. Not that giving up those vices was a hardship for me – I had never truly enjoyed them. However, if I'm being completely honest with myself, the main reason I wanted to change was for Catalina.

I wanted to be worthy of her love and respect. Someone she could proudly stand beside without fear of judgment or embarrassment. Perhaps even someone she could learn to love in return...

The streets were quiet as I wandered closer to the Agosti home. My father had grown increasingly angry with me for refusing to accompany him week after week, until he finally snapped and resorted to violence. He claimed to be teaching mea lesson, saying that my actions reflected poorly on him and made him appear weak.

But his "lesson" had been anything but gentle. His soldiers held me down while he mercilessly pummeled my face with his fists, the pain nearly causing me to lose consciousness. And when that wasn't enough for him, he grabbed a knife and thrust it between my ribs, inflicting a wound that would cause maximum agony without causing any permanent damage.

As I groan from the throbbing ache in my side, I realize that deep down I must have been hoping to catch a glimpse of Catalina. Seeing her again would bring some relief to the pain, even if only temporarily.

But I know better than to approach the front of the house. Doing so would only result in another beating from my father, and I've already endured enough for one day. So I continue to wander aimlessly through the streets, lost in my thoughts and trying to push away the physical and emotional pain that consume me.

---