14. The Little Spitfire
CHAPTER 14
THE LITTLE SPITFIRE
M arco
Cazzo , this woman will be the death of me. I march after Jia, keeping a few yards between us. The last thing I need is for the little spitfire to start running. In the chaos of the morning commute, I could lose her—or worse, be forced to make a scene and actually throw her over my shoulder.
My stupid cock twitches at the thought.
He’s deluded enough to think he has a chance with her.
I’ve been on my damned best behavior, but still, she wants nothing to do with me. Now, I’ll be forced into a lifetime of monogamy with a woman who despises me? Fuck that. I did not sign up for this shit.
My angry footsteps eat up block after block and by the time we reach Jia’s boutique, I’m fucking furious. Jimmy is stationed just up the street, the limo double-parked and blocking traffic, but I couldn’t care less. “Jia, wait!” I shout as her petite hand wraps around the handle of the front door .
She spins around, her dark eyes tapered at the edges. “What?”
“We’re not finished.”
“Oh, yes, we are.”
I step into her, pinning her against the glass door of her boutique and a faint gasp is expelled through those full ruby lips. Caging her in with my palms to the glass on either side of her head, I glare down at my future wife. Not a hint of fear flashes across those midnight orbs. Instead, she glares right back at me, her jaw clenched tight. Her lips pucker and a light sheen from the sprint across town makes her skin shimmer beneath the sun’s brilliant rays. Dio , she’s beautiful when she’s pissed.
Fuck, what was I going to say?
“We’re finished when I say we are,” I growl, but some of the fire has already dribbled out of me. Merda , what is this sorcery?
“You expect me to cower at your feet, Marco Rossi?” Her chest heaves against my own, her perky breasts spilling over the low cut of her blouse. “You are nothing but a weak little lamb compared to my father. I will not bow down to you, not today and not ever.” The venom in her eyes is so potent I wonder what the hell her sire did to her to inspire such hatred, because this cannot solely be about me.
“I never asked you to cower,” I hiss.
“You never asked me anything . That’s exactly the point. You powerful men are all the same, you just take and take. You think that because you carry a gun and a loaded bank account, you can get away with anything. Well, I promise you, it won’t be that easy with me, Mr. Rossi.”
“I have no doubt about that,” I grumble, leaning back an inch so that her damn peaked nipples don’t rub my chest again. My cock is already so hard it’s wedged against my zipper, and it’s only exacerbating my foul temper .
Jia’s hand moves so fast it’s a blur as she slips her slender fingers beneath my waistband and jerks out my gun.
She twirls it around her index finger, the sleek black muzzle flashing like a beacon. “Now I’m one the one with the gun, Mr. Rossi… so does that mean I have all the power? Will you get down on your knees for me?”
“Jia, put that down!”
She cocks the Glock, and I stare at her completely unbelieving. Would this crazy-ass woman really shoot me in broad daylight with Jimmy in the car ten feet away and her grandfather likely just upstairs? Not to mention the dozens of bystanders littering the streets of the Meatpacking District.
The click of a car door opening sends my heart shooting up into my throat.
“Jia, what are you doing?” Wei Guo’s voice is sharper than glass.
Guess he never made it up to Jia’s studio after all.
Jimmy leaps out next, his revolver pointed at Jia’s head.
“No,” I shout at my right-hand man. “What the fuck is wrong with you, pointing that thing at my fiancée? Put that away now .” My tone brooks no argument, and Jimmy holsters his weapon as he stalks closer, a scowl darkening his features.
The shuffle of her grandfather’s approaching footfalls only deepens the furrow of Jia’s brow. “Stay back, Yéye,” she grinds out.
The little spitfire presses the muzzle to my stomach and Jimmy hisses out a curse behind me. My abs tighten at the invasion of metal, but I don’t flinch. I stopped fearing death ages ago. In fact, some days, I welcome it. The errant thought startles me. I don’t often admit the grisly truth even to myself.
“I will not stay back until you give Mr. Rossi his gun,” the old man calls out. “What are you thinking, child?” he barks.
Jia’s lip quivers, but her eyes remain fixed to mine, lethal rage pounding through the blazing darkness. Her finger closes around the trigger .
Wei Guo steps up to us, but there’s no hesitation from my new fiancée. The gun remains pressed into my gut. “Jia!” He hisses a few sentences in Mandarin, but she doesn’t relent. Knowing little about Chinese culture except for their extreme respect for their elders, this appears completely out of character for the seemingly submissive granddaughter.
“I won’t do this, Yéye.”
“You will, bǎobèi, because you are an intelligent, mature woman, and you know that my decision is what is best for all.”
She shakes her head, tears blurring the impenetrable darkness.
The old man’s hand closes around the gun, and somehow, he manages to pry her finger from the trigger. Once he’s done that, I reach for my weapon and rip it the rest of the way free of her grasp. I should be furious, but instead, I’m slightly impressed. And way too turned on.
Wei Guo weaves his arm around his granddaughter’s slim shoulders and steers her toward the alley that leads up to her apartment. I stand there in the middle of the sidewalk in stunned silence.
“You sure about that one, boss?” Jimmy sidles closer and drags a hand through his dirty-blond locks. “It looks to me like you just agreed to let the devil into your bed.”
“Don’t talk about my future wife that way, coglione ,” I snarl. “Or you’ll be the one with a muzzle in your gut.”
“Shit, relax, boss, I was just messing with you.”
“I’m in no mood.”
“Clearly,” he spits and marches back toward the limo.
Now what the fuck am I supposed to do?
My gaze trails after Guo and his granddaughter, already half-way down the alley. Technically, my duty is complete. I got them to and from the Triad meeting safe and sound. I should just go home and figure out how the hell I’m going to survive my engagement to the little spitfire with my balls still intact.
But for some goddamned reason, my heels are rooted to the ground.
Cazzo … I glance up over the windows of the boutique to the apartment above, and a shadow creeps across the glass.
What the hell?
My shoes are pounding the sidewalk before my brain has a minute to process what I just saw. I whirl around the corner, but Jia and her grandfather must have already gone inside the building.
Pumping my arms, I race down the alley and wrench the door handle. Merda , it’s locked. “Jia! Jia, don’t go inside!” I shout and pound my fists into the glass door.
Fuck this . I pull out my Glock and smash the glass with the butt of the gun. It shatters in a hundred pieces, crystal shards raining down across my loafers. Dio , first vomit, now glass? Just a few hours with this woman, and she’s already ruined my favorite pair of Ferragamos.
I snake my hand in through the broken glass and unlock the door, then race up the steps to the fourth floor, my heart a cacophony of drumbeats vibrating my ribcage.
When I finally reach her floor, cursing the damned walk-up, I sprint down the empty hall. Shit, they’ve already gone inside. Am I completely losing my mind, had I imagined that shadow?
A shrill scream answers my unspoken question and my heart drives up into my throat for the second time today. Dashing across the quiet hallway, I focus on my footfalls, trying my damnedest to keep them light despite the anger compelling every step.
When I reach her door, I pause, fingers clenched around my gun. Drawing in a steadying breath, I don the icy mask I wear for battle, the one I learned at the ripe old age of ten. Life in foster care may not have been an actual war, but it sure as fuck felt like it to a kid. I swing the door open with my gun trained at eyelevel. I’m greeted by a lethal stillness.
Scanning the small studio, I level the muzzle of my gun over every exposed inch of the place. Only two possible hiding spots remain: her bedroom behind the graffitied wall or her bathroom.
A muffled gasp sends my heart dropping back into my chest and kicking at my ribs as fury pounds through my darkest depths. No one touches my future wife and lives to see the next sunrise. “Jia!” Her name pops out before I can stop it.
“Ma—”
Another shuffle and then a curse, a male voice this time. “You bitch!” The groan reaches my ears and rage thunders through my veins, drowning out the symphony of my ragged breaths and thrashing pulse. An unnamable, overpowering feeling roars through my body, piercing my soul.
I dart around the brick wall, a growl exploding through my clenched teeth at the sight.
A Four Seas asshole with a knife pressed to my fiancée’s throat.