Page 39 of Wicked King

Her gaze lifts to mine, a silver pin pressed between her full lips. And damn, I’m jealous of that fucking pin for getting to experience that mouth. “Hello,” she mutters through clenched teeth.

“The shop is looking much better.” I glance around the space and sniff the air. The toxic odors have all but vanished.

“Yeah, thanks for sending Nicky to help.” She motions to the guard at the door, and I swirl around to catch his gaze.

Raising a brow, I shoot him a questioning glance and receive a quick shrug in return. I never instructed him to help with the clean-up job, he was only to serve as security. Knowing Jia, she probably roped him into it. A tiny smile ghosts across my lips as I imagine the little spitfire bossing the big guy around.

“Did you get a chance to select the wedding reception venue from the options Mel sent over?”

Her brow arches, and she really looks at me for the first time today. “No, I’ve been pretty busy.” She drops her hands to her hips and narrows her eyes. “Did you confirm Lei’s involvement in the attack?”

A wave of anger bubbles in my core, but I tamp down on it. “I’ll have it by tomorrow,” I grit out.

“Then you’ll have my answer then too.” She smiles sweetly, but her eyes darken.

“Jia, the venue is of the utmost importance. Even with all my considerable resources, putting on a wedding of this scale in such a short time is challenging.”

“You’ll have your answer when I have Lei’s head.”

I force a smile instead of the rebuttal poised at the tip of my tongue when I hear Arianna’s dainty footsteps approaching. Good God, this woman will definitely be the death of me. Could this demure persona all be an act? Could Guo’s granddaughter be even more bloodthirsty than her brother?

“I’m working on it, sweetheart,” I grumble.

She shoots me a scowl, and I can barely contain the smile. I love getting a rise out of her. “Work faster, honey,” she snaps back.

“Dio, I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. It’s going to be an absolute pleasure.”

She snorts on a laugh. “You’ll be lucky if you live past the wedding night.” Flashing her teeth, she whirls around and disappears behind a wall of dresses.

CHAPTER 19

A MAN TO FEAR

Jia

Creeping around my own living room in a towel as I attempt to dress before Yéye or my infuriating new roommate wake, I grab a top and comfy yoga pants from the dresser. Marco’s new apartment is supposed to be ready for us to move into the day after tomorrow which leaves me little time to work on the boutique. I’m fully aware I’m being ridiculous about refusing to move into a luxury penthouse, but I hate the idea of being supported by my fiancé. I spent enough of my life kowtowing to a man I despised simply because I was forced to live under his roof. I promised myself long ago I’d never find myself in that situation again, which is why I’m trying so hard to succeed on my own.

I step on a creaky floorboard and Marco stirs from his makeshift bed on the floor. After I refused to let him sleep on the pullout with me, he broke down and bought an air mattress. But at over six feet, the huge male swallows up the flimsy twin. His feet hang over the edge, and the mattress dips beneath his massive weight. He must be terribly uncomfortable.

A grin parts my lips.

The arrogant bastard deserves it.

With one last peek to confirm he’s still asleep, I slide on my thong, drop the towel and tug my bra around my waist, keeping my back to Marco just in case. I wouldn’t put anything past the conniving mob boss. Once my bra is on, I slip on the top.

“Mmm, nice ass, wifey.” Marco’s rough voice sends my head spinning over my shoulder.

He lifts his gaze from my bare cheeks long enough to grin up at me, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“You’re an ass,” I grit out as I tug the yoga pants over my thong so quickly, I lose my balance. With one foot stuck in the stretchy material, I keel over, the embarrassing moment moving in desperately slow motion.

My eyelids squeeze closed and I wait for the crack of my knees on the old floorboards, only it never comes. Instead, strong arms lace around my waist and my cheek hits a warm, bare chest.

“I got you, spitfire.” Those mismatched orbs blaze down at me, and for an instant, I’m acutely aware of every point of contact: my cheek against his scruffy chest hair, his firm arms around my waist, my lower half pressed against… I jerk out of his hold as a particularly hard part of his lower anatomy jabs at my belly.

“Thanks,” I murmur as I hold onto the couch’s arm rest with one hand and finish pulling my pants up with the other. “But it wasn’t necessary.”

“So you would’ve rather I let you fall?”

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