Page 55 of Wicked King

“No. I’ve said all I needed to say, and your granddaughter has made her intentions perfectly clear.” I spin to Jia, to her puckered lips, to the fury in those midnight irises. “I’ll see you at the altar.”

“Marco!” Her voice echoes behind me, but I can barely make it out over the wild thrashing of my pulse.

I need to get the hell out of here. I need to shoot at something or fuck the shit out of someone before I lose my damned mind. Marching out the gilded doors of the Waldorf, that godforsaken ring stabs at my thigh with each frenzied step. I should go back to Cartier and return the cursed diamond.

My assistant Mel had already procured two plain wedding bands for the ceremony. That was all we needed anyway. That reminds me… Mel. My feet compel me forward, each step more rushed than the last.

I’m not married yet. I didn’t even get a bachelor party, and I deserve a night of fun.

Mel’s apartment is a short walk from the Waldorf, but even after the frantic five-minute march, the haze of booze begins to lift. By the time I reach the building, my resolve is faltering. I stand at the door for an endless moment, my finger an inch from the buzzer. But fuck, it won’t move.

I wasn’t lying to Jia the other day. She’s the only woman I want, the only person I can’t get out of my mind. My stupid cock twitches at just the thought of her. He’s so stupid he doesn’t understand we don’t have a chance. What am I going to do, force myself onto her on our wedding night? I’d never… And just because we’ll be married doesn’t obligate her to fuck me.

Dragging my hand through my hair, I spin on my heel and barrel into a familiar form. Mel’s groceries go sprawling across the sidewalk and I hiss out a curse.

“Geez, Marco, watch out.”

“Sorry.” I drop to the ground beside her and refill her recyclable shopping bags.

Once I’ve gathered the array of fruit, yogurt and energy drinks, I straighten and draw in a steadying breath.

“What are you doing here?” She brushes an errant strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

“Nothing… Um, I was in the area and?—”

She sniffs the air, then inches closer. “Are you drunk?”

“Not exactly.” I shrug, but even I can smell the Macallan on my breath.

“So you got drunk and came to see me?” Her eyes widen, almost comically.

Was I that much of an asshole while we were together?

“Maybe,” I mumble. “Before I realized what a dick move that would be.”

“On the night before your wedding…”

“…Right.”

She draws in a sharp breath and motions to the door. “What are you doing, Marco?”

“I don’t fucking know. I’m so out of my league here.” I tug at the wild ends of my hair, wishing I could rip them out. I’ve never felt so out of control. I jab my hands into my slacks’ pockets, and my fingers brush the ring box. Fury pummels my veins, and there’s nothing I want more than to toss the fucking diamond in the nearest dumpster.

She must read the turmoil in my gaze because she steps to the door and unlocks it. “You can come in if you want to talk. I’m sure this marriage thing must be hard on you.”

The crazy thing is that it isn’t the marriage part that has me in a tailspin. A few days ago, sure. But I’ve come to terms with it. Now, what’s driving me mad is how much Jia doesn’t want this. Women have always thrown themselves at me. I’ve never been denied.

Leaning against the door, I shake my head. “Nah, I think I’m good now, but thanks for the chat, Mel. And I’m sorry if I was a total ass while we were together. You didn’t deserve that.”

A rueful smile parts her lips. “That’s the thing, Marco, we were never really together. You never gave us that chance.” Before I can get another word out, she slips through the door and disappears down the hall.

I stand there, motionless, for a long moment considering her words. I’d been so fucked up after Isa, I never gave any woman a chance. I buried my head between the legs of any female I could have and drowned the pain in meaningless sex. I never wanted to be hurt like that again, and the only way to accomplish that was to never let anyone in, never allow myself to become attached, to love.

The blaring horn of a passing car snaps me from my mental musings. I look up just in time to see the barrel of a gun emerge through the cracked window of a black SUV.

CHAPTER 27

A REAL MARRIAGE

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