Page 35 of Wicked King

Oh, God, he must have seen me snuggling with the mob boss. Yéye always was an early riser. I pop up and scramble off the couch, tugging down my sweatshirt which had risen at some point in the night, showing off my navel.

“How do you feel, Yéye?” I finally manage once the heat of embarrassment settles.

Grandpa’s fingers gingerly move across the bandage on his temple. “The headache has dissipated, and it seems the doctor did a fine job with the stitches.”

“Good.” I reach for his hand and give it a squeeze. I’d apologized a dozen times yesterday evening, but I will have to do it again today, now that he’s fully conscious.

“I am quite hungry, though.”

Oh, right. Food. I glance around to the kitchenette and find a half-naked Italian peering into my refrigerator.

“Damn, Jia, when was the last time you went grocery shopping?”

“That’s exactly what I asked when I arrived,” said Yéye.

Great, now they’re teaming up on me. I huff out an exasperated breath and shoo Marco away from my fridge. “I’ll just order some take out and?—”

“Take out for breakfast?” Marco’s eyes go comically wide. “Even I can make eggs.” He weaves his arm between me and the open door and pulls out a carton of eggs. Turning it over, he squints at who knows what. “Still good for another two days.”

So embarrassing.

He starts rifling through my kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers until he finds a small skillet. “Guess this will have to do.”

“I’m not hungry,” I grumble.

“How about you, Mr. Guo, scrambled or fried?”

Yéye shuffles closer and pulls out two plates. “Scrambled is just fine, Mr. Rossi.”

What is happening right now?

My gaze darts between the two men who have ransacked my tiny kitchen. Marco moves fluidly around the cramped space as if he belongs there. How a man his size pulls it off is astonishing. He cracks the eggs, stirs, adds some salt and pepper, and pours it into the pan; all of it a graceful, elegant dance.

Maybe if I’d seen cooking orchestrated in this manner before, I would have shown more interest in developing my own talents.

Shaking my head, I hitch my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m going to take a shower. Enjoy your breakfast.”

Both males offer a quick wave, and I disappear around the brick wall to the sanctuary of my bedroom. Whatever this was could not go on. I need to get Marco Rossi out of my apartment and out of my life. But first, I must find the traitor who sent that assassin for me yesterday and make an example of him.

Once I emerge from the shower, fully dressed, hair done and soft makeup in place, I feel slightly better. Until I walk in on my grandfather and fiancé, now thankfully dressed, sitting at the kitchen counter in the middle of a heated discussion about wedding venues.

“It must be a Catholic church,” Marco snaps. “If I have to tie myself to your granddaughter for the rest of my life, it will be before the eyes of God.”

I nearly choke on my spit. Despite the gold cross necklace buried in Marco’s overabundant chest hair, I never imagined the ruthless killer to be a man of faith.

My grandfather turns to me, swiveling on the barstool. “Ah, there you are, baobèi, what do you think?”

I think it’s too early to be having this discussion before my first cup of coffee. Ignoring the question, I reach for my favorite mug and fill it. Taking a sip of heaven in a mug, I groan from the explosion of sweet roasted coffee beans on my tongue. At least my future fiancé knows how to make a good cup of Joe.

“Jia?” Yéye asks again.

“I don’t know,” I mutter around a mouthful of liquid caffeine. “Do we really have to talk about this right now? I’d rather plan how we intend on punishing the man behind last night’s attack.”

“And we will,” my grandfather replies, patting my hand. “But the sooner we plan the nuptials and bind our families together, the safer you will be.”

I bite back the retort I’d used with Marco yesterday. My grandfather was nothing like my father. Losing Nanay had been difficult for him too, and I hated to bring up the dark memories.

“Mr. Rossi, do you believe we could be ready in two weeks?”

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