Page 22 of Wicked King

“Mr. Rossi is my guest,” Guo answers. “Given the most recent incident at my granddaughter’s boutique, I do not find the request out of place.”

A heavy silence descends over the small space, and I take the opportunity to scan the rest of the attendees. Lei lingers in the shadows, engulfed in a sea of navy-clad lackeys but his beady eyes lock on me, then on the woman at my side. My twitchy fingers brush the cold metal of my gun. I dare you to make a move against her again, fucker. I offered Guo to bring along Nico or even Jimmy, but he felt getting only one of us in would be difficult enough. Two would be considered an outright affront to the Triad.

“As you wish, lingdao.” Jianjun signals to the circle of men surrounding the table, and in perfect synchronicity, each one folds into a chair. The rainbow of crimson, navy and brilliant yellow fills the dingy space, and expectant eyes lift in our direction.

Jia stands frozen beside me, and despite the show of fiery temper earlier, a barely perceptible tremor vibrates through her body. If it weren’t for my arm brushing her shoulder, I never would’ve noticed. Her face remains a mask of calm, in spite of the inner turmoil. I don’t blame the girl; I admire her really. What twenty-three-year-old woman would want this responsibility?

I barely want it at thirty, and I chose this life.

Jia is being forced into it.

If her crazy brother hadn’t killed their father, and then come for us, the seat of the Four Seas throne would likely still be occupied for years to come. Fate sure is a bitch.

The scuffle of slippers draws my attention back to the present, to Wei Guo lumbering around the room toward the remaining two empty chairs. Jia doesn’t move, her feet remain planted to the spot. I hazard a glance from the corner of my eye, but she seems to have gone completely comatose. My hand drifts to her lower back, and with a gentle push, I steer her around the table behind Guo.

She moves as if on autopilot, and I’m not certain she even feels the gentle pressure I’m exerting, because if she did, I’m fairly certain she would have slapped my hand away by now. Instead, she almost leans into my touch as we scoot past the other attendees. The unexpected contact sends an unfamiliar sensation blossoming in my chest.

When we reach Jia’s designated seat, I’m oddly reluctant to release her. Guo must notice my hesitation because his brows furrow as he regards my unmoving hand. He clears his throat rather forcefully, and I’m snapped from the spell the touch of her body has cast over my muddled brain.

In a lame attempt to compose myself, I pull out the chair and offer her the seat. Jia finally nods, the first sign of life I’ve seen since we walked into the Red Dragon restaurant.

“Now that we are all here,” Jianjun begins the moment her perky ass is in the chair, “we may begin this special meeting of the Triad council.” His narrowed gaze darts in my direction. “I hope I must not remind all in attendance of the sacred nature of this assembly nor of the critical importance of secrecy as to all matters discussed.”

I slowly dip my head and offer a reassuring smile. I may be a bastardo in some respects, but I am a man of my word. Guo had already sworn me to secrecy regarding all aspects of the council meeting when we reached our agreement.

The rest of Jianjun’s words blur in a mix of English and Mandarin. Most of the discussion is incredibly boring and my mind begins to wander as I stand behind Jia, my hands wrapped around the back of her chair. I’m only here for one thing after all, and my part doesn’t come in until the end.

I’m shocked at how calm I feel as the head of the Golden Star drones on about an influx of overseas shipments. I expected anger, fury, or at the very least, anxiety. Instead, an inexplicable serenity has come over me as I accept my fate.

From the corner of my eye, I steal a quick glance at Jia. The pinch of her lips, the furrow of her brow, and the steady thrumming of her knee speak the complete opposite of serenity. A tiny, stupid part of me wishes there was a way to ease her anxiety. But would my news only make it worse?

Most likely.

Dipping my head to Jia’s ear, I whisper, “Are you okay?” The words flow of their own accord as I lean in close.

“Fine,” she grits out before shushing me.

An eternity later, Jianjun’s sharp eyes pivot in our direction. “And now, the final topic of discussion, the future leadership of the Four Seas.” His gaze swings toward Lei and the circle of men surrounding him. “Lei Wang has decided to challenge our most sacred tradition and requests to leave the fate of the Four Seas up to a vote. He believes he can serve as the leader the organization needs.”

Lei stands, his shoulders pinned back and an arrogant sneer on his thin lips. “I would be honored and privileged to serve the Four Seas, much as the great Wei Guo had done for many decades.”

The old man hisses what I’m certain is a curse in Mandarin, and the boastful peacock deflates a notch. I barely suppress a smile in Lei’s direction.

“As you all know,” Jianjun interjects, “we do not alter our sacred traditions on a mere whim. In order for this request to pass, Lei must garner a nearly unanimous vote of ninety percent of the attendees.”

It’ll never happen. There’s a reason why the Triad sticks to its ancient ways.

“Now, the time has come to cast your vote.” A man moves around the table and deposits a slip of paper along with a pen to each of the nine council members, Jia included, as the only living heir of the Four Seas, and Lei as the former leader’s right-hand man.

The near silent scrawls fill the tense space, and a trickle of sweat slithers down my spine. An endless moment later, all the scraps of paper are collected and handed over to Jianjun. He stares at the slips, slowly thumbing through each one. His face is a blank canvas, not a twitch betraying the result.

Jia is so still I’m fairly certain she’s stopped breathing. Is some part of her hoping Lei will be victorious? As awful as that would be for us, at least she wouldn’t be forced to rule.

The sharp squeal of chair legs scraping across concrete jerks my head toward Jianjun as he stands. “The vote has come to an end.” He turns a satisfied smile toward Lei. “Our traditions will hold true. Your request has been denied, Lei Wang, as you have failed to secure the necessary votes.”

Lei’s lips twist, but he manages a respectful bow. Impressive.

“Now, what is to become of the Four Seas?” one of the males in navy asks, clearly one of Lei’s men.

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