Page 51 of Wicked King

“It’s not the night before our wedding yet. There’s no reason why I can’t sleep in my own damned room with my fiancée.”

“You don’t get to call me that when you still smell like that woman’s cheap perfume.”

As I stand there while she continues to wail on me, a realization surfaces: Jia’s jealous. For the first time since this whole mess started, she’s showing me actual emotion. Emotion for me. If she truly didn’t care about me at all, then why the dramatics? We’d never discussed the parameters of our fake relationship, but there’s more than just anger in her eyes. It’s clear she’s hurt.

And cazzo, that understanding has me downright giddy.

My fingers curl around her wrists and drag her flush against me. I keep her steady against my chest with one hand in spite of her squirming. My heart kicks at my ribs from the faint contact with her flesh. With the other hand, I grip her chin and force her eyes to meet mine. “Listen to me, spitfire. I don’t cheat. I may have been sleeping around with a few women before we met, but they were all very aware of it. When I commit to something or someone, I’m all in. If you want this marriage to be real, then trust that I will be as devoted and faithful to you as I have been to everything that’s real in my life. I put my heart and soul into Gemini Corp, into making myself into the man I am today, and I’ll do the same for this relationship, but only if you’re willing.”

Some of the fire in her eyes diminishes at my tempered tone. Her chest still heaves with every breath, and I can’t keep my gaze from dipping to the taunting neckline. Dio, she’s tempting when she wants to kill me.

“I don’t know,” she finally mutters, a long minute later.

I release her and take a step back, all the intensity deflating from my lungs.

“I don’t know that I can trust you, Marco. You’ve still done little to earn it.”

Gritting my teeth, I fold my hands behind my back. I don’t find that to be at all true, but I keep my mouth shut all the same. Maybe she really does just need more time. Maybe she needs to hear me say it…

“I don’t need Raquel; I don’t want other women. Your lips are the ones I dream of every night, spitfire,” I whisper. “I dream of claiming that mouth, devouring those lips until they’re swollen, then filling them up with my cock.”

She gasps, and a satisfied grin stretches across my face. Dio, I love riling her up.

“We could be good together, Jia, really good. You just have to give it a chance.”

She releases a breath and lowers her fighting stance, her arms falling to her sides. “… And if I can’t?”

Those words sting more than a dozen knife wounds. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to find another way to make this arrangement work.”

“Like we each live our own separate lives in private?”

“Is that what you want?” I bark, the question coming out harsher than intended. I never thought she would be the one to need her desires fulfilled outside of our marriage.

“Maybe,” she murmurs.

Merda. That one little word is like a hot blade right between the ribs. I stagger back a few steps then whirl around, no longer able to face her. As I march to the steps, my pulse thrums across my eardrums in a furious rhythm. Why am I so stupid? Why would I give up everything for one piece of ass? If she wants an open marriage, I should be thrilled.

Before I reach the top of the staircase, I double back and swing my head over my shoulder. “I’m going out for the night. You’ll have the place to yourself. Arianna and your grandfather are waiting downstairs so I wouldn’t think on it too long.”

The soft rush of her bare feet across the carpet stills my own footfalls. “Where are you going?” she blurts.

Without turning to face her, I mutter, “I’m not sure yet, but I need to think. And I find that difficult when I’m around you. Before I met you, things were very clear, black and white. Now all I see is gray.”

I wait for a long minute, but she doesn’t speak, so I force my feet down the stairs and forbid myself to look back.

CHAPTER 25

SOME SPACE

Jia

“What are you still doing here? It’s almost ten.” Ari marches into the boutique, buried beneath a tower of fabric. A rainbow of materials spills across the drafting table as she throws me a narrowed glare. “You’re getting married the day after tomorrow. You shouldn’t still be here hunched over a desk. You should be celebrating with your family and friends, or at the very least, relaxing.”

“Ha, that’s funny. What family? What friends, Ari? One doesn’t invite people you actually care about to a fake wedding with a mobster. It’s all a political arrangement, a big show. The heads of the most notorious crime syndicates will be in attendance, and we’ll be lucky if it doesn’t end in a bloodbath.”

Ari’s nose scrunches, her lips screwing into a pout. I’ve never been so blunt with her before. She’s heard bits and pieces, but I try to keep my friend out of it as much as possible. “I’m sorry…” She inches closer and tugs me into her side. “I’m really sorry that your wedding day isn’t going to be the dream one all little girls hope for.” She pauses and nibbles on her bottom lip, clearly hesitant to say what she wants to say next. “But I don’t think Marco is that bad. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, the way he talks to you, and that’s not a man who only thinks of you as a business arrangement.”

I huff out a breath and sink into my desk chair. I’d told Ari all about that slutty realtor, and my friend is so naïve, she believed Marco’s explanation. Women are always throwing themselves at men like him. And maybe, she’s right, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. That is what I’m the most upset about. He fucking hurt me. After Bà, I vowed never to be hurt by a man again.

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