Page 12 of Wicked King

Give me a hip, artsy guy spouting poetry in Union Square any day.

Investment bankers, Wall Street brokers, and CEOs are much too cocky for my liking. I want a free spirit, someone who isn’t afraid to break through the shackles of conformity. Then again, I doubt I’ll get much of a say at who I end up with at this point.

Ari makes it to the bar and swings her head over her shoulder, strands of short blonde hair flicking across her face. “The usual?”

“Yes, please.” I squeeze between two suits to snag a small space at the bar while Ari goes after the bartender. The scent of expensive cologne and thriving portfolios is thick in the air.

The blond guy turns around, his eyes growing wide when he sees me. He’s moderately good-looking, with a strong, clean-shaven jaw. “I apologize. Please, let me get out of your way.” He throws me a cheesy smile, flashing perfect teeth. “Or better yet, let me buy you a drink.”

“Thanks, but my friend is on it.” I signal to Ari who’s blatantly flirting with the bartender across the way.

“It seems like your friend is otherwise entertained. It could take a while, so please, allow me.”

Lifting a bare shoulder, I nod. I’m wearing a Jia original tonight, one of the few pieces I’d handsewn and typically use as a sample. It has slits on the shoulders with long flowy sleeves that allow for airflow in the scorching Manhattan summer. If I was being honest, my love for clothing design stemmed from necessity. Being forced to wear long sleeves year-round severely limited my spring and summertime wardrobe choices. I created my first design at twelve with a pair of kiddie scissors, and just like that, I knew what I wanted to do with my life.

Without asking for my preference, the Suit hands me a glass of white wine a few minutes later. I take a sip and my mouth puckers. Bleh, Chardonnay.

“I’m Brian, and you are?” He clinks his bottle of beer against my glass.

“Jia.”

“It’s a pleasure.” He takes my hand and rubs his thumb across the top, flashing his gold Rolex. “And may I say, you are the most beautiful woman in this bar.”

“That’s very kind of you. I’m sure you say that to all the ladies.” I place the glass back on the bar, the idea of stomaching another sip too revolting. I’ve never been a white wine girl and Chardonnay is my most hated variety.

“Jia! I got them!” Arianna appears with a drink in each fist and hands over my dirty martini.

Brian’s eyes go wide as he regards my beverage of choice. Yeah, maybe you should have asked, idiot.

“Well, thanks for the drink, Brian.” I click my martini against his beer and shoot him a smirk. “See you around.” Weaving my arm through Ari’s, I tug her away from the bar.

“Why didn’t we stay and talk to the cute blond?” My best friend complains as I drag her through the crowd.

“Because I’m not interested in spending all evening talking to guys whose only desire is getting me into their beds. I came to have a drink, relax, and hang out with my best friend.”

She tucks me into her side and squeezes. “Not that I don’t love that idea, but girl, you’re twenty-three, don’t you think it’s time to cash in that V-card?”

“Ari…”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. It’s your choice, and I fully respect your decision.”

We’ve had this conversation at least a hundred times since we met in college. At first, choosing not to have sex was a personal one. I just hadn’t found anyone I liked that much. Then, after nanay died, it was a way to hold onto the religion my mom loved so dearly. Waiting until marriage seemed like a small sacrifice to make after all she’d endured.

Now, with the looming prospect of an arranged marriage, maybe Arianna is right. What if I end up having to marry Lei? Bile oozes up my throat at the thought of his hands on me. Then again, that Brian guy was not a much better option.

As we weave through the lounge in search of two seats, a dark gaze bores into me from across the rooftop. I lift my chin to meet a pair of mismatched eyes, one the darkest brown, so dark it’s nearly black, and the other a vibrant sapphire. My brows knit as I take in the handsome face that comes with those mesmerizing eyes.

Nico Rossi?

His dark hair falls in wild tumbles across his brow, and a smirk curls the corners of his full lips. A sleek black jacket molds to his perfect form, and on him, the suit doesn’t look quite so loathsome.

Why the hell does this guy keep popping up?

“Oh, Jia, now that guy,” Ari whisper-hisses, “he would be worth giving it up to. He is totally eye-fucking you.”

“No,” I rasp out. “Absolutely not.” I curse myself for not being completely honest with my best friend. I simply couldn’t find the words to tell her my brother had been trying to force me into an arranged marriage with his enemy just to secure the Four Seas notoriety.

And now it was happening again, and I still couldn’t tell her. I’d hinted at bits and pieces, but she had no idea I was a week away from becoming the leader of one of the infamous Chinese gangs of New York.

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