Page 50 of Wicked King

“Let me explain?—”

“There’s nothing to explain. It’s not like I expected your manwhoring days to come to an end just because of our sham of a wedding. I just didn’t expect to see it in our apartment.” She spins out of my reach and races around the back of the kitchen. Her footfalls slap across the steps a moment later as she disappears up into the master loft, and I just stand there like an asshole.

A lethal tempest of fury, pain, and ice-cold fear twist in my gut. What if she leaves? What if she calls this whole thing off? A few days ago, and I would’ve been thrilled by the prospect… but now? Cazzo, what has this woman done to me?

Raquel’s head twists in my direction, and I swear a spark of hope lights up her face. She must have caught that sham wedding part. Bad news for her, though. She and I were not happening. Ever.

“Please leave,” I bark at my all-too-eager realtor.

“But—”

“No buts. Get out of my house and never come back unannounced. What almost happened between us was before Jia and I were engaged, before we were even together, as I keep trying to tell you. And it will never happen again.” I wrap my fingers around her wrist and haul her to the door just in time to find Guo and Arianna walking in. Merda. “If you have any business to conduct with me in the future, Miss Raquel,” I add to the realtor, a bit more politely now that we’re in company, “please go through my assistant, Melanie, at Gemini Corp.”

She rips her hand free from my grasp and saunters toward the elevator. Before the elevator doors close behind her, she offers a flirty smile. “I’m always available, Mr. Rossi, whatever your needs may be.”

I heave out a grunt and slam the door. Good God, the woman is relentless.

Mr. Guo and Jia’s best friend stare at me expectantly as I stalk back inside. Shit.

“Everything all right, Mr. Rossi?” Guo cocks his head, eyes thinning as he scrutinizes my disheveled state.

“Just fine. I need to speak to your granddaughter, if you’ll excuse me for a moment.” I nearly make it all the way around the kitchen before calling out over my shoulder. “Please help yourselves to whatever you want in the refrigerator and make yourselves comfortable.”

Then I’m racing up the steps and sorting through the best way to explain—no, grovel to my future wife. Thankfully, the master loft has no doors, so Jia has no option but to hear me out.

When I reach the sprawling, modern chamber, I find my fiancée in the closet yanking off the shirts I’d spent the last hour hanging.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

She whirls at me, dark eyes murderous. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m moving your clothes. I may be forced to marry you, but I refuse to share the same bedroom with a man who is fucking other women.”

“I’m not!” I howl.

“I just caught you with your tongue down the freaking realtor’s throat!”

“It wasn’t my tongue! She attacked me.”

“Oh, you poor baby! How did you ever survive?” Her eyes narrow as they focus on my shirt collar. “You’ve even got battle scars to prove it.”

I flip up the corner of my collar and cringe at the bright pink lipstick. “It’s not what it looks like. The reason her lipstick is on my collar is because I turned my head when she tried to kiss me the first two times, and her lips landed on my shirt instead. The last time she got a little aggressive, which was at exactly the moment that you walked in.”

She rolls her eyes so damned hard only the whites show. “You’re pathetic.”

“It’s the truth!” I drag my hands through my hair and suck in a steadying breath. “Damn it, Jia, I haven’t been with a single woman since our engagement was announced.” And I have the blue balls to prove it.

She begins a slow clap that only aggravates my fired-up nerves in the way that only she seems capable of doing. “Would you like a medal? You made it through two whole weeks without sleeping with another woman? That’s truly impressive, Mr. Rossi. Well done.”

“And I didn’t kiss the realtor either!”

“Well, it didn’t look like you were trying very hard to pull away until you saw me.”

“Yes, I was! Did you miss the part about the first two attempts? Not to mention when she tried to put her hand down my pants—” Damn it. Too far.

A shriek bursts from her lips and she shoves me out of the closet, grabbing my shirts as I stagger back. “Take your clothes and get out of my room.”

I plant my feet into the carpet and, despite her punches and an occasional kick, I stand my ground. “I’m not going anywhere, spitfire,” I growl. “As a matter of fact, I think I’ll sleep in here tonight.”

“You will not!” She throws another punch. I don’t deflect it; I just stand there and take it.

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