Page 49 of Wicked King

A smile lifts the corners of my lips, and for the first time since this arranged marriage bomb dropped, I’m excited. Ari tugs me to the dressing rooms, and Yéye follows a few measured steps behind.

When we reach room three, a buzz of excitement has my heart pumping faster. I step inside the chamber, and there, hanging from the wall is my nainai’s dress. The endless lace stretches from the sophisticated high neck to the sheer long sleeves and intricate, sweeping train. Seeing it in person after so many years of staring at a grainy, worn picture is surreal.

I step closer and hesitantly reach for the delicate lace. Nainai was married at nineteen so this gown is over sixty years old, and still the fine fabric not only seems intact but in perfect condition. There’s no yellowing, no frayed edges.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.

“Absolutely perfect!” Ari stands behind me, admiring the smooth lines of the gown.

The embroidery along the arms is sheer, perfect for our summer wedding, but the brocade appears elaborate enough to cover my scars. To this day, I’m uncertain if my grandfather knows of the tortures I suffered under my father’s hand. Forcing away the dark thoughts, I turn to the exquisite gown. Now, to see if it fits. The curve-hugging bodice was tailored for my petite grandmother, and though I’m far from tall at five foot four, I have a few inches and a couple pounds on her.

Right on cue, after a quick knock, a woman pops her head into the dressing room. “Hello! I am Olga, and I will be assisting you today. Would you like any help with the gown?”

My head bobs. I’m scared to touch it, terrified I’ll remove it from the hanger and it’ll disintegrate in my fingertips.

Yéye stands and dips his head in my direction. “I will give you a moment.”

The seamstress rushes in before I can reply to grandpa, then pauses in front of the dress. “It’s truly superb. They simply don’t make gowns like this anymore.”

My smile grows wider, and I begin to relax as Olga carefully removes it from the hanger. As she does, I take in the daring deep-V of the back. Wow, Nainai, you little vixen.

“How many days until the wedding?” the woman asks as she signals for me to undress.

My heart’s happy pitter-patter halts as I quickly count. “Three.” The answer pops out on a sharp exhale. I can’t believe it’s nearly here, and I don’t know a single detail about the event. Marco’s assistant has coordinated the entire affair, and whenever she’s reached out for my opinion, I ignored her. Maybe that was a mistake. The only thing I do know is that the ceremony will take place at St. Patrick’s Cathedral and the reception at the Waldorf. Since Marco’s brother owns a penthouse at the hotel, he was able to secure the last-minute venue. I’m sure it cost him more than just money.

“So soon!” Olga squeals as I step into the dress on autopilot, covering my arms until they’re hidden beneath the lace.

“I can’t wait!” Arianna claps her hands again.

I shoot her a scowl, and she tamps down on her excitement. Though I didn’t share all the dirty details with my friend, she knows this is a marriage of convenience and nothing more. Still, she’s ridiculously thrilled about the whole debacle.

As the lacy fabric brushes my skin, goosebumps ripple across my flesh. I hazard a quick glance at the mirror over Olga’s shoulder as she pulls the gown up my torso. Oh my God, I’m really doing this. I’m getting married…

“Go open the door!” Ari calls out from the elevator bank. “We’ve got the dress…”

Nainai’s gown was like magic. It molded perfectly to my form, as if it had been made for me. Even the seamstress couldn’t believe that not even a single bit of alterations was needed.

With the tight deadline for the wedding, we really lucked out. And now with my grandma’s dress in hand, at least something would feel real about this arrangement. Maybe Yéye and Ari were right and I need to give this marriage a shot. My grandparents had been happy, perhaps there is hope for the mob boss and me after all.

As I approach the entrance to Marco’s apartment, my steps lighter than they have been in a while, I find the door ajar, and voices drift out into the hallway.

One voice, a female, sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place it.

I inch closer and the talking stops, the silence now overpowered by the increasing tempo of my pulse. What the… I whip the door open, and a furious scream lodges in my chest.

Marco leans against the kitchen counter with the realtor’s tongue jammed down his throat.

CHAPTER 24

GRAY

Marco

Fuck. I can feel Jia’s burning gaze from across the room before she utters a sound. I shove raunchy Raquel off for the third time since she came by to personally deliver a second set of keys for my girlfriend. The woman has no shame and simply cannot take the hint that I’m not interested. Clearly, this woman can’t take no for an answer.

“Jia!” I spring for her, but she lifts a hand, pure venom carved into her jaw.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she hisses as I reach for her arm.

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