Page 56 of Wicked King

Jia

I stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror, attempting to find a woman I recognize beneath the elegant lace gown and flawless makeup. The high collar of embroidered lace accentuates my long neck, and the intricate updo only elevates the air of sophistication. The sheer sleeves feel light yet cover enough of my scars to ensure I fit the image of the perfect bride. I’d been primped and powdered from the moment I was awoken at six in the morning until two seconds ago when the stylists finally left.

“I cannot stop staring at you, Jia. You look gor-geous!” Ari lifts her flute overflowing with champagne and toasts the air between us. “Are you sure I can’t get you a drink?”

“It’s not even eleven…”

“I can put orange juice in it if you want. It can be breakfast.” She tosses me a smirk.

The idea of food, let alone alcohol, has my stomach tied in knots. In an hour, I’ll be standing in front of a priest vowing to live a life with a man I despise until death do us part. What I hate the most is his insistence on going through with this sham of a wedding before the eyes of God. Couldn’t we have just gotten this farce over with at the courthouse?

“Come on, Jia, it’ll help loosen you up.” Ari offers her flute. “Just a sip?”

I take a reluctant taste, and the soft bubbles coat the back of my throat. I can barely get it down. Handing it back to her, I shake my head, mouth puckered. “I just can’t right now.” The last thing I need is to throw up across the altar.

Then again, maybe it’s just what I need…

“Mr. Rossi, no. I’m afraid I must insist.” Yéye’s gruff voice seeps through the door that leads to the sitting area of the immense suite. “You know it is bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

I spin to the doorway as the shouts grow more enraged.

“I have to see Jia, Mr. Guo. It’s urgent.”

“What the hell?” I march past Ari and open the door a crack.

From the sliver of space, a pair of mismatched irises meet mine. “Jia, please I need to talk to you.”

“Can’t it wait?” I grit out, still pissed about finding him at the bar last night surrounded by a freaking entourage of beautiful blonde and brunette co-eds.

“No,” he hisses.

“An hour from now, we’ll have the rest of our lives to make idle chit-chat.”

“Someone shot at me yesterday.”

Those five words send my heart on a tailspin. “What?” I jerk the door open and Marco’s eyes widen to the size of glistening full moons as his gaze rakes down my body. “Yéye, please give us a minute.”

My grandfather nods and disappears back into the sitting area. Ari squeezes my shoulder and follows him out.

“Cazzo, Jia… You are… breathtaking…” Marco regards me for a long moment, a storm of emotions brewing beneath the bejeweled surface. His hand slides into his pocket, and a bulge catches my eye. For once, it isn’t his inappropriate arousal, but rather something more square and bulky.

I take a minute to search his body for evident wounds, but when I find none, I find I still can’t tear my eyes away. I slowly peruse the sleek black tuxedo that molds perfectly to his form, to the broad expanse of his shoulders and those muscled upper arms straining against the fine fabric. His hair is slicked back, the typical wild ends smoothed down today, and his face is clean-shaven which only accentuates his high cheek bones and sculpted jawline. God, the man is terrifyingly beautiful.

Forcing my gaze back up to meet his, I focus on why he’s come. “Wait, you said you were shot?”

Marco blinks quickly, and that tempest of emotion subsides. “Some pezzo di merda took a shot at me through the window of a blacked-out Hummer yesterday.” He creeps closer, one hand still shoved in his pocket. “Coming that close to death… I don’t know, it just made me think. I was up all night tossing and turning, trying to figure all this shit out.” His expression softens, and a hint of a smile curls his lips. “I don’t want to go into our marriage with everything so up in the air.” His broad shoulders lift, and a full grin softens the harsh lines of his jaw. “I understand how you could have misunderstood the situation at the bar last night, and maybe going MIA before the wedding wasn’t the best idea—but fuck, Jia, I’m way out of my league here. I just don’t know what to do.”

My heart flutters around my ribcage like a silly butterfly. God, one smile from this man has the power to erase all his past wrongdoings. It’s much too dangerous. I swallow hard, shoving all the pointless emotions to my darkest depths. “Do you know who’s behind the shooting?”

He looses a frustrated breath. “No idea. I lucked out, honestly. I was just outside Mel’s apartment and who knew her building has bulletproof glass doors? If I hadn’t managed to dart inside, there would be no wedding today…” His words trail off as I fix on the earlier part of his explanation.

“What were you doing at Mel’s apartment?” I blurt at the same time he asks, “Did you try to have me killed?”

We stand there, gaping at each other, the warm and fuzzy feelings from a second ago, vanished. The mistrust is so thick in the air it’s suffocating.

Oh my God, how can I marry this man?

I’m a second away from asking how he could possibly think that of me when I remember I’d considered the very same thing. “No,” I grit out. “I did not hire someone to kill you.” I glare up at him, hands on my hips. “Now, what were you doing at her apartment the night before our wedding?”

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