Page 67 of Wicked King

Marco’s weary gaze doesn’t deviate from mine, nor does he offer a goodbye to his brother. Once the door closes, he heaves out a breath and slides closer. His hand reaches out tentatively, before his warm fingers close around my icy ones. “Cazzo, spitfire, not even a day in and you try to make a widower out of me?”

A rueful chuckle squeezes out, and pain rushes up my torso. Shit, that hurts. Note to self: no laughing. Marco must notice my grimace because he bites out an apology.

“Damn it, I really can’t get anything right with you, can I?”

“Getting me shot on our wedding day definitely doesn’t bode well…” Pure misery etches into the hard set of his jaw and guilt spears me in the chest. “I didn’t mean that. I know it wasn’t your fault. I don’t actually blame you for this?—”

“You should. I’m your husband! It’s my duty to protect you.” He releases my hand and leaps up, dragging a hand through his hair for surely what has to be the thousandth time from the looks of it. “Fuck, Jia, when I saw that blood, I almost lost my shit. It was ten times worse than all the times I’ve been shot combined.”

I raise a hand and sear him with a steely gaze. “First of all, don’t get all caveman on me just because we’re married now. I’m more than capable of protecting myself, as I’ve said many times already.”

“I know, but—” He paces a quick circle before dropping back onto the bed. He jostles the mattress beneath his massive weight, and I wince again. “Damn it, I’m sorry. Again.” He sucks in a breath and then slowly releases it. “I’m clearly not good at this husband shit.”

Repressing a chuckle, I shake my head. “We both have a lot to learn, apparently.”

His head dips, his fingers tangling with mine once more. Then his eyes lift to mine and that tempest of emotion flares. “I promise to find the person responsible for this and personally eviscerate them.”

“Only if you let me go with you.”

The hint of a smile curls his lip. “Deal, wifey.”

“And you never call me that again.”

His grin only grows wider.

I squeeze his hand before prying my fingers free. “Can you please call Yéye now and tell him I’m all right?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Thank you.”

He rises and pulls his phone from his pocket. “You know, I think I like you all shot and vulnerable.”

“Well, don’t get used to it. As soon as I’m healed, I’ll be back to my ball-busting ways.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, spitfire.”

The days are a blur of HGTV, lukewarm chicken noodle soup and Jell-O. I absolutely hate being stuck in this hospital room, even if it is a suite. The doctors and nurses poke and prod at me under Marco’s watchful eye.

The man has taken it upon himself to enlist as my personal bodyguard. Despite Nicky or one of the other Gemini sentinels constantly perched at the door, my new husband hasn’t left my side. He doesn’t work, he doesn’t sleep, I’m not even sure he pees.

I reach for the magazine on the bedside table and Marco leaps up, handing it to me. It’s been like this for days. He waits on me hand and foot, helps me shower and dress, which makes it very difficult to keep my scars hidden, but somehow, I’ve managed. I had to draw the line at taking me to the bathroom. There are some things that newlyweds should not share.

“Do you want something to eat? Are you thirsty?” Marco loiters at the foot of my bed.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Just sit down, Marco. You’re driving me crazy.”

He slumps down on the couch beside my bed, a frustrated sigh parting his lips.

After flipping through a few pages of the gossip magazine, I can feel his pointed stare. It’s impossible to lose myself in the smutty tabloids with him watching my every move. With a huff, I point at the flat screen hung on the wall. “Why don’t you find a movie for us to watch?”

He jumps up, reaching for the remote on the coffee table. “Sure, absolutely. What are you in the mood for?”

“Anything but a Romcom.”

---