30. Perfect
CHAPTER 30
PERFECT
J ia
“Did it really have to be eight courses?” I grouse around a mouthful of tortellini. Marco sits beside me, shoveling the pasta into his mouth. He’s been oddly quiet throughout the lengthy meal. We are only on the fourth course, and already, I’m certain I’ll burst. I haven’t eaten a thing all day and of course, now I’m ravenous. Also, I have no idea how I’ll get out of my wedding gown tonight without help.
I doubt my stylists will be accompanying me back to the bridal suite. My stomach flip-flops at the thought. The idea of being alone with my new husband has a tangle of nerves, fear, and inexplicable desire flooding my chest. I refuse to consider what the last part means.
“Yes,” he finally mumbles. “The wedding meal is supposed to be a feast, to regale the guests with your wealth and provide the couple with sustenance for a long wedding night.” He smirks and for an instant, the joking, light-hearted mob boss I met resurfaces.
“Well, at this rate, I might fall asleep before we make it to our suite.”
“ Our ?” His enigmatic irises sparkle to life.
I snap my jaw closed, annoyed with myself at that slip of the tongue.
“I assumed you’d force me to sleep in my own room,” he continues.
At least he didn’t say someone else’s room. Waving a dismissive hand, I spear another tortellini drenched in the creamy sauce. “The bridal suite is huge. It would be wasteful to spend money on another room.”
“I have lots of money, spitfire.”
“It doesn’t mean you have to waste it, honey .”
His grin grows wider until it unfolds into a beaming smile, and God, I hate how all resolve crumbles at the sight. He points his fork at me. “I believe I like ‘honey.’”
“Then I’ll think of something else.” I throw him a sweet smile and shove more tortellini in my mouth before our banter turns downright civil.
The wedding planner rushes over as I swallow down the last bite. “Finish up, it’s time for the first dance.”
“Now?” Why couldn’t we have done that before the damned fourth course?
“Yes, Mrs. Rossi, now.”
Mrs. Rossi ? I cringe at the sound. “That’s Guo,” I snap.
“Apologies, Mrs. Guo. And to you, Mr. Rossi, for the interruption, but the orchestra is playing the song you selected next.”
“The song you selected?” My gaze swivels between the planner and Marco.
“I picked one at random,” he mutters.
Oh. That is unexpected. Now, I’m beyond curious…
Marco scoots his chair back, the sharp squeal against the burnished wooden planks screeching over the pause in the orchestra music. A few curious gazes swivel in our direction as I stand, and Marco laces his fingers through mine.
With an increasing number of heads turning in our direction, I can’t help but lean into his towering form to hide from the inquisitive gazes. To keep from meeting their stares, I take in the Grand Ballroom for the first time tonight.
The impressive space is adorned with intricate details that suggest a long-gone era of grandeur. The ceilings soar high above, lavishly decorated with ornate crystal chandeliers. The light casts a soft, ambient glow throughout the room, reflecting off the golden hues of the wall trimmings. The walls themselves are lined with paneled silk and velvet draperies, adding a touch of royal decadence to the atmosphere.
It's truly breathtaking.
I’m still amazed Marco’s assistant was able to pull off the grand occasion in only two short weeks. And they say money can’t buy you happiness…
When we reach the polished wood dance floor, the orchestra picks up a familiar tune. I’d fully expected a classic ballad from Frank Sinatra or Etta James, but instead the eight-piece orchestra plays their rendition of Perfect by Ed Sheeran.
Marco’s arm laces around my waist, and a thousand tiny blades pierce my heart as he starts to hum the tune.
“I didn’t know you were an Ed Sheeran fan.” It’s the last thing I would have expected from the playboy mafia boss.
He shrugs. “The guy knows how to write a love song.”
“And what do you know about love, Mr. Rossi?” I curl my arms around the back of his neck because apparently Ed Sheeran is also a sorcerer.
“Not much, apparently, Mrs. Guo.” A rueful smile hitches up the corner of his lips as he pulls me flush against his chest.
He guides me across the dance floor, my body moving effortlessly with his. For an instant, everyone else disappears, and it’s only us and the magical notes and heart-filled words of the song. My chest heaves, brushing against his with each breath. His eyes darken as they latch onto my peaked nipples through the fine lace.
God, my emotions are so all over the place right now. I’ve never felt so out of control. One moment I’m certain I could murder Marco Rossi and the next, I cannot wait to fall into his arms.
“Jia, I…”
I press my finger to his lips, cutting him off. “Let’s talk about it later, okay?” All of our discussions tend to take an animated turn, and a public fight with my new husband wouldn’t exactly solidify the united front we’re attempting to portray.
His head dips, and his nose accidentally brushes mine. My gaze lifts to meet his and our mouths hover only a heartbeat away. My breath hitches as thoughts of that kiss at the church whirl to the forefront of my mind. How is it possible to despise someone so much and yet be so attracted to them in the same instant?
The clinking of glasses rings out, a symphony of tinkling crystal, and Marco’s mouth melts into a devious grin. “I guess we should make the audience happy.”
“I don’t know…” I rasp out, but my traitorous lips have already inched closer.
“If the Triad is to back off, we need to make them believe our arrangement is a solid one.”
“And a kiss is going to do that?”
“Fuck if I know, spitfire, but it sure as hell would make this performance more pleasant for me.” Again, with that smirk.
“Why would you enjoy kissing a woman who despises you?” Despite the bite of my words, my body leans into him as we smoothly move across the dancefloor.
“Maybe I like a little challenge…”
And a challenge he would get.
“Come on, just kiss her already!” From over Marco’s shoulder, I catch sight of his half-brother, Dante, practically bashing his fork against the champagne flute.
“Ass,” Marco mouths as he spins around to glare at the notorious Valentino.
“Fine,” I grit out. “Just do it, or they’ll never stop.”
“ Dio , you really know how to charm a man.” His bottom lip juts out as if he’s truly offended.
Rolling my eyes, I capture that pouty lower lip, drawing it between my teeth. Whoops and cheers explode around us as I nibble on the pillowy flesh.
“You better not draw blood,” he mumbles against my lips, and I’m honestly shocked I’m able to make out the garbled words.
His hand creeps up my bare spine and his fingers dig into the hair at my nape before he dips us so low, the top of my elaborate updo nearly touches the lacquered parquet. How he manages to sustain the kiss while sweeping me across the floor is pretty impressive.
“This bare back is truly scandalous, Mrs. Guo.” His fingers dance along my bare skin as he whispers. “I may have to tear the eyes out of every guest in this room for daring to look at what’s mine.”
When we finally straighten, I’m completely breathless from the fiery kiss and the risky dance move. The lyrics of the end of the song echo in the background, and Marco mouths the words. I’m not certain he realizes he’s doing it.
“Now I know I have met an angel in person
And she looks perfect
I don't deserve this
You look perfect tonight”
My heart pinches, and a wave of regret batters my insides as those mesmerizing eyes lance into mine. Why did I say I wanted an open marriage? Because I’m too embarrassed to admit the truth? That I may actually like this man… I’m such an idiot .
“There, that should keep them off our backs for a little while, at least.” That trademark smirk falls into place as the song comes to an end, and he releases me, leaving my body cold at the sudden absence of his.
Which reminds me… “Why did you choose that song?”
He shrugs and starts to back away as the dancefloor begins to fill with our guests. “I told you, it was random.”
“Well, I liked it.”
His eyes widen as he regards me. “At least I managed to do one thing right.”
I open my mouth to respond, to tell him he’s done more things right than I care to admit, but a shot rings out, stealing the words from my lips.