6. Twins
CHAPTER 6
TWINS
J ia
“I still can’t believe you made me go out tonight, Ari.”
My best friend rolls her eyes as she drags me through the crowd to get to the bar. “Even your grandfather said you deserved a night out.”
Well, they aren’t wrong there.
The DJ’s hypnotic beats float on the air of the swanky rooftop lounge. It’s five o’clock on a Thursday in Midtown so the place is swarming with men in suits. Charming smiles, gel-backed hair, and Rolexes fill the glittering scene. It’s not at all my style.
Give me a hip, artsy guy spouting poetry in Union Square any day.
Investment bankers, Wall Street brokers, and CEOs are much too cocky for my liking. I want a free spirit, someone who isn’t afraid to break through the shackles of conformity. Then again, I doubt I’ll get much of a say at who I end up with at this point.
Ari makes it to the bar and swings her head over her shoulder, strands of short blonde hair flicking across her face. “The usual?”
“Yes, please.” I squeeze between two suits to snag a small space at the bar while Ari goes after the bartender. The scent of expensive cologne and thriving portfolios is thick in the air.
The blond guy turns around, his eyes growing wide when he sees me. He’s moderately good-looking, with a strong, clean-shaven jaw. “I apologize. Please, let me get out of your way.” He throws me a cheesy smile, flashing perfect teeth. “Or better yet, let me buy you a drink.”
“Thanks, but my friend is on it.” I signal to Ari who’s blatantly flirting with the bartender across the way.
“It seems like your friend is otherwise entertained. It could take a while, so please, allow me.”
Lifting a bare shoulder, I nod. I’m wearing a Jia original tonight, one of the few pieces I’d handsewn and typically use as a sample. It has slits on the shoulders with long flowy sleeves that allow for airflow in the scorching Manhattan summer. If I was being honest, my love for clothing design stemmed from necessity. Being forced to wear long sleeves year-round severely limited my spring and summertime wardrobe choices. I created my first design at twelve with a pair of kiddie scissors, and just like that, I knew what I wanted to do with my life.
Without asking for my preference, the Suit hands me a glass of white wine a few minutes later. I take a sip and my mouth puckers. Bleh, Chardonnay .
“I’m Brian, and you are?” He clinks his bottle of beer against my glass.
“Jia.”
“It’s a pleasure.” He takes my hand and rubs his thumb across the top, flashing his gold Rolex. “And may I say, you are the most beautiful woman in this bar.”
“That’s very kind of you. I’m sure you say that to all the ladies.” I place the glass back on the bar, the idea of stomaching another sip too revolting. I’ve never been a white wine girl and Chardonnay is my most hated variety.
“Jia! I got them!” Arianna appears with a drink in each fist and hands over my dirty martini.
Brian’s eyes go wide as he regards my beverage of choice. Yeah, maybe you should have asked, idiot .
“Well, thanks for the drink, Brian.” I click my martini against his beer and shoot him a smirk. “See you around.” Weaving my arm through Ari’s, I tug her away from the bar.
“Why didn’t we stay and talk to the cute blond?” My best friend complains as I drag her through the crowd.
“Because I’m not interested in spending all evening talking to guys whose only desire is getting me into their beds. I came to have a drink, relax, and hang out with my best friend.”
She tucks me into her side and squeezes. “Not that I don’t love that idea, but girl, you’re twenty-three, don’t you think it’s time to cash in that V-card?”
“Ari…”
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. It’s your choice, and I fully respect your decision.”
We’ve had this conversation at least a hundred times since we met in college. At first, choosing not to have sex was a personal one. I just hadn’t found anyone I liked that much. Then, after nanay died, it was a way to hold onto the religion my mom loved so dearly. Waiting until marriage seemed like a small sacrifice to make after all she’d endured.
Now, with the looming prospect of an arranged marriage, maybe Arianna is right. What if I end up having to marry Lei? Bile oozes up my throat at the thought of his hands on me. Then again, that Brian guy was not a much better option.
As we weave through the lounge in search of two seats, a dark gaze bores into me from across the rooftop. I lift my chin to meet a pair of mismatched eyes, one the darkest brown, so dark it’s nearly black, and the other a vibrant sapphire. My brows knit as I take in the handsome face that comes with those mesmerizing eyes.
Nico Rossi?
His dark hair falls in wild tumbles across his brow, and a smirk curls the corners of his full lips. A sleek black jacket molds to his perfect form, and on him, the suit doesn’t look quite so loathsome.
Why the hell does this guy keep popping up?
“Oh, Jia, now that guy,” Ari whisper-hisses, “he would be worth giving it up to. He is totally eye-fucking you.”
“No,” I rasp out. “Absolutely not.” I curse myself for not being completely honest with my best friend. I simply couldn’t find the words to tell her my brother had been trying to force me into an arranged marriage with his enemy just to secure the Four Seas notoriety.
And now it was happening again, and I still couldn’t tell her. I’d hinted at bits and pieces, but she had no idea I was a week away from becoming the leader of one of the infamous Chinese gangs of New York.
“Why not?” she whines. “Okay, you don’t have to sleep with him. Just go talk. He’s so freaking hot!”
As if the beautiful Italian mobster hears my friend, he stands and stalks toward us. The man moves with the grace of a panther, each step silent and deliberate, exuding an air of lethal confidence.
“O.M.G., he’s coming this way, Jia.”
I gulp down a long sip of my martini and heave in a breath. Nico Rossi is responsible for Qian’s death. Despite the angelic smile and devilish good looks, the man is a monster. You will remember that, Jia. My father’s voice swirls through my subconscious.
He presses closer, those enigmatic eyes pinned to mine, and my chest heaves at the effort of drawing in a breath. What is this sorcery? I don’t recall reacting this way on the brief occasions I’d met him a few months ago.
He weaves around a blonde, and the woman’s eyes light up as he passes, her lips curling into an inviting smile. She whirls around after him, but he waves her off, eyes never unlocking from mine. Endless moments pass as he looms ever closer, my heart a battering ram against my ribs.
When he finally reaches us, Ari lets out an embarrassing squeal, earning a smirk from the notorious Rossi. He pauses in front of me, preening like a peacock, as I stand immobile, strangling my martini. “Finally, I have the pleasure of officially meeting the lovely Jia Guo.” He reaches for my free hand and presses a kiss to the top. Soft lips caress my skin, igniting a wave of goosebumps up my arm.
Once he releases me, I find the wherewithal to process his words and actually summon some of my own. “Finally?” I blurt.
“Yes, I’ve heard a lot about you from my brother.”
“Your brother?” I realize I sound like an idiot, but I’m so damned confused.
He ticks his head over his shoulder at the table he’s just walked away from. Another dark-haired male sits beside a redhead, their foreheads pressed together as they whisper to each other.
“I’m Marco Rossi.” That deep tenor wraps around my body, more lethal than any hands could ever be.
“Marco?”
“Yes, I’m Nico’s twin brother.”
For shit’s sake, there’s two of them?
Ari snakes between us and throws her hand out. “Twin you say? I’m Arianna Davila. Is your brother single by chance?”
Marco, not Nico, throws his head back and a warm laugh rumbles his broad chest. “I’m afraid not.” He points to the table once again. “Unfortunately, my brother has already found his true love.”
That’s her, that’s the woman. She’s the reason Nico Rossi reneged on the original arrangement with my brother. It’s all true.
“Unfortunately?” I blurt, again, positive now that I sound like an idiot.
Marco’s eyes swivel to mine, a flicker of amusement playing in the shadows. “I’ve seen what love does to powerful men, Jia, it’s not a pretty sight.”
The burning embers deep in my core shrivel and then all but die with those dismal words. Thank God. I need a rush of reality. Despite that intriguing smile and the fact that he’s Marco and not Nico, he’s still a Rossi. Both he and his brother were responsible for Qian’s death.
I swallow down the rest of the martini in one gulp and narrow my eyes at the grinning murderer. “Anyway, we were just leaving.”
“We were?” Ari squeaks. “But why? We just got here.”
“Because my grandfather is waiting for me at home.”
“Your grandfather?” Marco’s mouth curves into an O before he schools it back into that practiced smile.
Shit. I shouldn’t have said that out loud. The return of my grandfather could signal something big in the underground world these men rule over.
“He just came for a visit,” I add. “To mourn my brother’s loss. You knew Qian, didn’t you, Marco?”
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Not well, unfortunately,” he murmurs. “My brother handled most of the interactions between our organizations.” His gaze flickers to Arianna and his mouth slants into a hard line. Smart man. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he whispers a long moment later.
“Thanks.” I cross my arms over my chest and turn to Arianna. “Can we please go now? ”
She holds up her full drink and takes a long slurp from the straw. “I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying.”
“Don’t rush, Arianna,” says Marco, before his eyes chase to mine. “I can take her.”
“That’s not happening. I’d rather grab a cab.”
“But why? I have a car parked right out front.” He signals down the fifty-odd stories below to Park Avenue.
I stand on my tiptoes and lean in close, so my lips nearly brush the shell of his ear. “Because I’d rather walk the sixty blocks in stilettos than sit in a car with the man responsible for my brother’s death.”
His eyes widen to the size of mismatched brilliant full moons. “I wasn’t—it wasn’t me…”
“I don’t care about the specifics,” I hiss. “You were there. You were involved.”
“Jia…”
I spin away before his fingers can wrap around my upper arm.
“Wait for me!” Arianna shouts, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop, not with the tears welling in my eyes.
I just need to get out of here.