Page 95 of Wicked King

CHAPTER 44

BADGES OF SURVIVAL

Jia

I never thought anything would take precedence over CityZen. My designs, seeing them come to life in an array of hues and textures, was what I lived for. Now, every moment I spend apart from Marco is torture. Even if I’m doing what I love most.

From my drafting table, I cast a glance across the boutique at Nicky. He stands guard at the door as always. He’s become a permanent fixture in my little shop. And I’m fairly certain my dark shadow has a crush on my best friend. Behind the tinted sunglasses, I notice the flick of his gaze following Arianna as she flutters around the space. With everything still up in the air with Blanca and La Sombra, my initial instinct was to hold off on the grand opening of CityZen, but with the Triad dragging their feet, and the Kings and Geminis arguing over the splitting of Esmeralda’s territory, it's already been a week since our visit to Puerto Rico, and we seem nowhere close to a grand finale.

I just want this Blanca woman dead.

The bitch tried to murder my fiancé, shot up our wedding, and then attempted to kill me. I don’t care what Marco says about diplomacy and keeping the shaky peace, if someone doesn’t bury a knife in the woman’s chest, I will.

Revenge is not a dish best served cold in my opinion.

I tried that once, and I regretted every day that I wasted…

Shaking my head free of grisly thoughts from the past, I remind myself that the grand opening is a week from today. I must focus.

I stare at the brilliant lavender hue of the dress stretched out across the table, my eyes settling on the sheer sleeves. An unexpected flare of anger tightens my chest. Long sleeves have been an essential part of my wardrobe, to hide the shame, to conceal my scars, for as long as I can remember. But since revealing the truth to Marco, something has changed. I don’t want to hide them anymore; I want everyone to see the scars for what they are. Badges of survival. I’d been abused by the one man who was supposed to love me unconditionally and protect me from harm, but I’d endured.

And I’d won.

Grabbing the scissors from the drawer, I tear into the fabric, and with each snip, my heart feels lighter.

“Oh my gawd, Jia! What are you doing?” Arianna stares at the ruined dress, bright eyes wide.

“I decided it needed to be short-sleeved.” In a second, I’ll do the same to the oppressive blouse I’m wearing, and my best friend will really think I’ve lost my mind. Even she has no idea of the truth. Over the years of our friendship, I’ve gone to painstaking lengths to hide these ugly scars.

But no more.

The jingle of the front door opening tears my attention away from the mangled dress to the male stalking through the entrance. My husband. I never thought I’d enjoy the feel of that word on my tongue. My mouth is uncontrollable, my lips splitting into a grin of their own accord at the sight of him in a dark suit.

“It’s a good thing you’re here, Marco,” Ari breathes. “I think Jia’s on the point of a major breakdown.”

His expression darkens as he regards me, that heated gaze raking over every inch of me then finally falling to the ruined dress. “Everything okay, spitfire?”

I wave a dismissive hand and drop the scissors. “Yes, I’m fine. Ari is totally overreacting.”

“She just cut the sleeves off that gorgeous dress!” she squeals.

Marco’s eyes meet mine, the brilliant blue darkening to a deep navy while the midnight orb smolders with starlight. “Give us a minute, Ari. Why don’t you and Nicky go grab a coffee?”

My friend’s eyes meet mine, and I nod my approval. “Bring me back the usual, please?”

“Will do, boss.” She smirks before rushing toward the big guard, already chattering away.

As soon as the chime signals their departure, Marco circles the drafting table and pulls me into his chest. “What’s going on, spitfire?” His cedarwood scent envelops me as I bury my nose in his button-down shirt. The suit is odd for this time of the day. I make a mental note to ask why later.

Propping my chin on his chest, I lift my gaze to meet his. “Nothing. I feel oddly liberated, actually.”

“That’s why you took a pair of scissors to your newest design?”

“It was symbolic.”

“Mmhmm.” He eyes me warily.

“And actually, I have you to thank for it.” I wriggle free of his embrace and reach for the scissors once more.

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