Page 3 of The Marriage Mission

The notion of a woman obeying first her father and then her husband and finally her sons during widowhood was laughable in this third generation Chinese-American family, where the ratio of women outnumbered the men by at least four in each generation. Nãinai and her sisters had run roughshod over their father as well as their sons. Still, there were some cultural customs that survived over an ocean and over time.

"Don't take that tone with me. It's not exactly your restaurant. I still have controlling shares. I'll hand them over when you and your sisters are married."

Jacqui pinched the bridge between her nose. This restaurant had been her grandfather's. Though he'd been outnumbered, Ming Chou still did believe that men should be in charge. It was likely his only defense inside this matriarchal battlefield. Meiying had been on the matriarchal side while her husband was alive. Her walls came down completely when she lost her son. Now it would seem that she would only hand the reins off to another man. But there were no other Chou men to take over.

Jacqui opened her mouth to remind her grandmother of that fact when she heard it. There was a fizz. Then a crackle. Then a boom. The line went dead, and the lights went out.

She didn't have the money for this. She didn't have the patience either. Just as she didn't have the nerves to deal with her Nãinai about getting married to have a man take over the day-to-day worries. Chow Town was her heart and soul, but today it felt like a puzzle whose pieces just wouldn't fit.

The stress coiled tightly in her chest, a constant companion she wished she could shake off. In a flurry of frustration and paper, Jacqui stormed out of her office, her mind a cyclone of receipts, reservations, and relentless regulations.

Her pace was swift. So caught up in her whirlwind of thoughts, she didn't see him—a veritable wall of man—until she collided with his broad, solid chest. The impact was like hitting a pillar, immovable and unexpectedly comforting.

The surprise sent a jolt through her, disrupting the storm inside. For a fleeting second, she found herself enveloped in warmth and safety, his arms steadying her against him. His presence was commanding yet gentle, a harbor in the midst of her tempest.

"I've got you."

She should've moved. She had no idea who this was. It wasn't one of her crew. No one would have dared.

He was too big to be one of her sisters. And they were both, well, women.

He was too broad and strong to be Mason. And Mason smelled like expensive cologne. This man smelled like… well, a man. He was earthy and musky. She wanted to curl up against him.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see—" Jacqui began, her words trailing off as she lifted her gaze to meet his. His eyes were a calm, steady force, locking on to hers with an intensity that peered right through to her frazzled soul.

"No harm done. Are you okay?" His voice was deep, a smooth rumble that resonated within her, soothing the edges of her frayed nerves. Jacqui allowed herself to lean into the comfort he offered, her body unconsciously responding to the stability his frame provided.

In that brief pause, wrapped in the unexpected sanctuary of his hold, a wild, reckless thought flickered through her mind—what if she could just stay? What if she could hand over the tangled mess of worries and fears weighing her down? There was an unspoken promise in his steadiness that he could bear the load, that perhaps, just for a while, she wouldn't have to carry it all alone.

The thought was a dangerous one, a fleeting fantasy in a world that had taught her the hard lessons of reliance and loss. Jacqui knew better than to depend on anybody but herself. Dependence was a vulnerability, a risk she couldn't afford. Everything she had built could be taken away in an instant, leaving her with nothing but the remnants of misplaced trust.

With a resolve born of necessity, Jacqui jerked out of his hold, stepping back into her reality of independence and control. "Who are you?"

He tipped an invisible hat. "Noah Henry."

"Two first names? What are you, a catfish?"

"Is that a chef joke?"

"Men on social media trying to scam old ladies always have two names."

Noah chuckled, and the sound rumbled through Jacqui. She needed to put more distance between herself and this man.

"Everything okay?" It was her sous chef. Fish eyed the two of them with a raised brow. It was the most expression Jacqui had ever seen on the man's face.

Jacqui did step back then. She could not appear weak in front of her staff, which was mostly men. She was a female chef and restauranteur in a male-dominated field. They could not see her vulnerable.

"This is the electrician I hired," said Fish.

"Really? Is this how you work? You blow things up?"

Something twitched in Noah's eye before he blinked. "Your wires are so crossed it was inevitable. You need a complete overhaul."

"Maybe I should start with you."

"Are you firing me?"

There was something in his voice, something that screamed at her to run back into his arms. Jacqui took a step forward, but only because she was not the kind of woman to back down. Now, was she prepared to launch herself at him orlaunchherself at him? She would never know because Fish stepped in between them.

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