17. Two Weeks
CHAPTER 17
TWO WEEKS
J ia
Muffled snores draw me from a deep, peaceful slumber. My head slowly rises and falls, like a boat gently rocking at sea. I pry my heavy lids open and find my nose nestled in a jungle of dark, curly hair, inches away from a gold cross.
What the heavens?
I gasp and inhale a heady dose of bergamot and cedarwood. No, no, no.
My arm is sprawled across a firm torso and a steel band is laced around my waist, holding me against the hairy Italian mobster.
How did this happen?
I try to extricate myself from his hold before he wakes and finds me curled in his arms like a fool, but even asleep his arm is like a steel trap.
“Good morning, bǎobèi .” Yéye appears from around the brick wall of my bedroom, a smirk playing on his wrinkled lips, and heat splashes across my cheeks.
“Get off me,” I grumble and shove at the mass of unconscious male.
Marco’s lids finally open a crack, and a devious smile crosses that unfairly handsome face.
“Morning, spitfire.”
“When did you get on the couch?”
He shrugs. “At some point in the night. The floor was terribly uncomfortable.”
“Well now I’m terribly uncomfortable because you took up the whole damned couch.”
“You looked fairly comfortable to me, bǎobèi.” My traitorous grandfather’s eyes sparkle with mirth.
Oh, God, he must have seen me snuggling with the mob boss. Yéye always was an early riser. I pop up and scramble off the couch, tugging down my sweatshirt which had risen at some point in the night, showing off my navel.
“How do you feel, Yéye ?” I finally manage once the heat of embarrassment settles.
Grandpa’s fingers gingerly move across the bandage on his temple. “The headache has dissipated, and it seems the doctor did a fine job with the stitches.”
“Good.” I reach for his hand and give it a squeeze. I’d apologized a dozen times yesterday evening, but I will have to do it again today, now that he’s fully conscious.
“I am quite hungry, though.”
Oh, right. Food. I glance around to the kitchenette and find a half-naked Italian peering into my refrigerator.
“Damn, Jia, when was the last time you went grocery shopping?”
“That’s exactly what I asked when I arrived,” said Yéye.
Great, now they’re teaming up on me. I huff out an exasperated breath and shoo Marco away from my fridge. “I’ll just order some take out and?— ”
“Take out for breakfast?” Marco’s eyes go comically wide. “Even I can make eggs.” He weaves his arm between me and the open door and pulls out a carton of eggs. Turning it over, he squints at who knows what. “Still good for another two days.”
So embarrassing.
He starts rifling through my kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers until he finds a small skillet. “Guess this will have to do.”
“I’m not hungry,” I grumble.
“How about you, Mr. Guo, scrambled or fried?”
Yéye shuffles closer and pulls out two plates. “Scrambled is just fine, Mr. Rossi.”
What is happening right now?
My gaze darts between the two men who have ransacked my tiny kitchen. Marco moves fluidly around the cramped space as if he belongs there. How a man his size pulls it off is astonishing. He cracks the eggs, stirs, adds some salt and pepper, and pours it into the pan; all of it a graceful, elegant dance.
Maybe if I’d seen cooking orchestrated in this manner before, I would have shown more interest in developing my own talents.
Shaking my head, I hitch my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m going to take a shower. Enjoy your breakfast.”
Both males offer a quick wave, and I disappear around the brick wall to the sanctuary of my bedroom. Whatever this was could not go on. I need to get Marco Rossi out of my apartment and out of my life. But first, I must find the traitor who sent that assassin for me yesterday and make an example of him.
Once I emerge from the shower, fully dressed, hair done and soft makeup in place, I feel slightly better. Until I walk in on my grandfather and fiancé, now thankfully dressed, sitting at the kitchen counter in the middle of a heated discussion about wedding venues.
“It must be a Catholic church,” Marco snaps. “If I have to tie myself to your granddaughter for the rest of my life, it will be before the eyes of God.”
I nearly choke on my spit. Despite the gold cross necklace buried in Marco’s overabundant chest hair, I never imagined the ruthless killer to be a man of faith.
My grandfather turns to me, swiveling on the barstool. “Ah, there you are, bǎobèi , what do you think?”
I think it’s too early to be having this discussion before my first cup of coffee. Ignoring the question, I reach for my favorite mug and fill it. Taking a sip of heaven in a mug, I groan from the explosion of sweet roasted coffee beans on my tongue. At least my future fiancé knows how to make a good cup of Joe.
“Jia?” Yéye asks again.
“I don’t know,” I mutter around a mouthful of liquid caffeine. “Do we really have to talk about this right now? I’d rather plan how we intend on punishing the man behind last night’s attack.”
“And we will,” my grandfather replies, patting my hand. “But the sooner we plan the nuptials and bind our families together, the safer you will be.”
I bite back the retort I’d used with Marco yesterday. My grandfather was nothing like my father. Losing Nanay had been difficult for him too, and I hated to bring up the dark memories.
“Mr. Rossi, do you believe we could be ready in two weeks?”
“Two weeks?” I nearly spit the coffee all over my sheer white top .
Marco’s eyes widen, and for the first time since the engagement announcement, I catch a glimpse of fear in his gaze. Perhaps he is wary about this arrangement too. For some reason, it makes me feel better. “I don’t know that we need to move that quickly…”
Yéye’ s eyes narrow . “Can it be done or not, Mr. Rossi?”
He clears his throat, and those darting eyes flicker to me. “If the lovely Jia agrees to the wedding ceremony at the church, I’m certain I can find a suitable venue for the reception.”
“In two weeks?” His silver brows twist as he asks again.
“Yes, in two weeks.” Marco’s Adam’s apple bobs in time with my own hard swallow. “I’ll have my assistant get on it immediately.”
“Wonderful.” Yéye shuffles to the bathroom. “I’ll leave you two to discuss the details.”
“Two weeks?” I hiss the moment the bathroom door closes.
“Why delay the inevitable?” He shrugs and sips at what I swear is his third cup of coffee this morning.
Because if I have more time maybe I can find a way out of this arrangement.
A long moment of silence lingers between us. My thoughts are on retaliation, and I have no idea where Marco’s feelings lie, but judging by the deep creases along his forehead, something is on his mind. Flower arrangements, maybe?
I nearly laugh out loud at my own mental joke before I remember I have to play nice with my fiancé, at least for the time being if I want his help. “Can I borrow your gun?” I reach for it, but he slips out of the way.
“Excuse me?” He drops the mug, and it clatters to the table.
“You said I needed to show the Four Seas who was in charge, so that’s what I’m going to do.”
“With one gun? By yourself?”
“What would you suggest?” I snap.
“A combined show of force, Jia. Find the men that are still loyal to you, to your grandfather, and then challenge Lei Wang.”
“How am I supposed to do that without triggering his suspicions?”
“Quietly and cautiously.”
“I need to move quickly.” I try to grab his gun again, but he swings his hips, deflecting.
He wags a long finger. “And if you need a gun, I’ll get you your own. Do you know how to use one?”
“Of course I do.” I may have played the role of the demure, obedient daughter, but Bà had insisted I learned to protect myself long before Nanay was killed.
“Fine, we’ll go see my guy this afternoon, right after we move you into my hotel room.”
My brows scrunch as I regard the mercurial male. “Hotel room?”
“I’m currently in between apartments. I have a week until I can move into my penthouse, so I have a suite at the Waldorf.” He eyes my studio and shudders. “It’s not much larger than this, but it has a pullout couch and at least I can request a rollaway bed.”
“I’m not leaving my apartment because of one isolated incident.” And who knows how many women he’s brought to that suite? I refuse to be anywhere some simpering debutante could have been…
“Jia, with the security at the Waldorf, we’ll all sleep much easier.”
“I slept just fi—” I cut myself off mid-sentence before I admit to having the best night of sleep in my overprotective fiancé’s arms.
“What about your grandfather? Don’t you want what’s best for him?” He leans against the counter and shoots me a smirk that I’m sure has all the women dropping their panties.
“Of course I do,” I spit .
“There’s twenty-four-hour room service. Isn’t that reason enough?”
“Then take him with you, and I’ll stay here.” I plant my heels into the old wood floorboards. Despite all the chaos in my life, I still need to work on my designs and the grand opening of CityZen. There are still glass shards to be picked up and the pungent odor of smoke clinging to the walls. I may have been forced into this new role as head of the Four Seas, but it didn’t mean I was giving up all my dreams.
“ Cazzo , woman, why are you so stubborn?”
“I need to be near my boutique!” I shout.
Marco’s dark brows knit as he attempts to process my outburst. He apparently didn’t do all his research on his new fiancée.
“You know, my boutique downstairs? I’m supposed to open in a few weeks, and everything is a disaster.” Ari was supposed to come help this morning, but I’d lied and told her I wasn’t feeling well. The last thing I needed was my best friend finding me with the gorgeous but infuriating Italian.
Oh, God, Ari. I’d have to tell her about the engagement…
Marco drags a hand through his mess of dark locks. “How do you expect to plan a wedding, exact your revenge, and launch a new business in the same month?”
“Clearly, I hadn’t expected the first two,” I hiss.
He blurts out a string of Italian curses that I can barely follow. I’ve already learned the basics, but he throws in some new ones this time.
“Fine, spitfire,” he growls. “I guess we’re all going to get to know each other pretty damned well in the next week.” He steps closer, dappled orbs locking to mine, and his musky scent invades my senses. “But when my penthouse is ready, we’re moving in, even if your boutique isn’t.”
We’ll see about that.