32. Turbulent Seas
CHAPTER 32
TURBULENT SEAS
J ia
Fuck, everything hurts.
I blink quickly until the haze lifts, and I can make out the two men in my hospital room. “Marco…” I rasp. My voice sounds raw, like I’ve been gargling glass.
Marco darts across the room and appears at my bedside before I can blink. Something dark and unreadable flashes across those peculiar irises. Fear? Pity?
For a second, the depth of emotion steals the words from the tip of my tongue. Then my mind flies back in time to the chaos of the wedding. “Where’s my grandfather?” I blurt, trying and failing to sit up.
“He’s safe.” Marco sits on the edge of the bed, hovering at the very end by my feet. “He was here last night, but I sent him home with Rick to get some rest. I practically had to force him to leave your side. I’ll have Max call now to tell him you’re awake. ”
“Poor Yéye. He must have been so worried…” I rub my arms and the soft terry cloth covering the scars provides immediate comfort. Had Marco seen them last night?
“He was.”
“We all were.” Nico appears behind his brother and offers a surprisingly pleasant smile. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen one from the intimidating man. “I’m happy to see that you are awake. You had my brother sweating.” A smirk lights up his deep blue eyes.
My gaze pivots to my new husband. Now that I’ve had a minute, I take in his disheveled state. His hair is a wild mess, sticking up in crazy points, dark circles mar the soft skin beneath his eyes, and he still wears the bloodied tuxedo shirt from yesterday, though it hangs open and it seems like a few buttons have come loose.
“I should leave you two to catch up,” Nico whispers as he begins to back out of the room.
Marco’s weary gaze doesn’t deviate from mine, nor does he offer a goodbye to his brother. Once the door closes, he heaves out a breath and slides closer. His hand reaches out tentatively, before his warm fingers close around my icy ones. “ Cazzo , spitfire, not even a day in and you try to make a widower out of me?”
A rueful chuckle squeezes out, and pain rushes up my torso. Shit, that hurts. Note to self: no laughing. Marco must notice my grimace because he bites out an apology.
“Damn it, I really can’t get anything right with you, can I?”
“Getting me shot on our wedding day definitely doesn’t bode well…” Pure misery etches into the hard set of his jaw and guilt spears me in the chest. “I didn’t mean that. I know it wasn’t your fault. I don’t actually blame you for this?—”
“You should. I’m your husband! It’s my duty to protect you.” He releases my hand and leaps up, dragging a hand through his hair for surely what has to be the thousandth time from the looks of it. “Fuck, Jia, when I saw that blood, I almost lost my shit. It was ten times worse than all the times I’ve been shot combined.”
I raise a hand and sear him with a steely gaze. “First of all, don’t get all caveman on me just because we’re married now. I’m more than capable of protecting myself, as I’ve said many times already.”
“I know, but—” He paces a quick circle before dropping back onto the bed. He jostles the mattress beneath his massive weight, and I wince again. “Damn it, I’m sorry. Again.” He sucks in a breath and then slowly releases it. “I’m clearly not good at this husband shit.”
Repressing a chuckle, I shake my head. “We both have a lot to learn, apparently.”
His head dips, his fingers tangling with mine once more. Then his eyes lift to mine and that tempest of emotion flares. “I promise to find the person responsible for this and personally eviscerate them.”
“Only if you let me go with you.”
The hint of a smile curls his lip. “Deal, wifey.”
“And you never call me that again.”
His grin only grows wider.
I squeeze his hand before prying my fingers free. “Can you please call Yéye now and tell him I’m all right?”
“Yeah, I can do that.”
“Thank you.”
He rises and pulls his phone from his pocket. “You know, I think I like you all shot and vulnerable.”
“Well, don’t get used to it. As soon as I’m healed, I’ll be back to my ball-busting ways.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, spitfire.”
The days are a blur of HGTV, lukewarm chicken noodle soup and Jell-O. I absolutely hate being stuck in this hospital room, even if it is a suite. The doctors and nurses poke and prod at me under Marco’s watchful eye.
The man has taken it upon himself to enlist as my personal bodyguard. Despite Nicky or one of the other Gemini sentinels constantly perched at the door, my new husband hasn’t left my side. He doesn’t work, he doesn’t sleep, I’m not even sure he pees.
I reach for the magazine on the bedside table and Marco leaps up, handing it to me. It’s been like this for days. He waits on me hand and foot, helps me shower and dress, which makes it very difficult to keep my scars hidden, but somehow, I’ve managed. I had to draw the line at taking me to the bathroom. There are some things that newlyweds should not share.
“Do you want something to eat? Are you thirsty?” Marco loiters at the foot of my bed.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Just sit down, Marco. You’re driving me crazy.”
He slumps down on the couch beside my bed, a frustrated sigh parting his lips.
After flipping through a few pages of the gossip magazine, I can feel his pointed stare. It’s impossible to lose myself in the smutty tabloids with him watching my every move. With a huff, I point at the flat screen hung on the wall. “Why don’t you find a movie for us to watch?”
He jumps up, reaching for the remote on the coffee table. “Sure, absolutely. What are you in the mood for?”
“Anything but a Romcom.”
He smirks, the tight set of his shoulders finally relaxing. The man has been a walking ball of tension for days. Judging by the bits and pieces of conversations I’ve overheard, Marco is nowhere near finding out who was responsible for the shooting. And it’s killing him.
“So, horror, then?”
“That sounds about right.” Dropping the magazine back on the nightstand, I snuggle beneath the down comforter Marco had Nicky bring from the penthouse.
As he scrolls through Netflix, he folds his massive frame onto the small couch. I don’t know how he’s been sleeping on it for days. It’s no wonder he hasn’t actually slept. Then again, compared to the floor of my studio, it’s a step up.
God, I’ve really put him through hell since we met. A hint of guilt creeps up.
His head swivels to mine, distracting me, as the pointer pauses on a familiar title. “ Scream ? It’s a classic.”
“Sure, nothing like a light horror flick to get over a near lethal injury.”
Marco’s face crumples, and I immediately regret the bad joke. “We can watch something else?—”
“No, it’s fine. Just put it on.” I try to sit up straighter and wince, the movement jostling the stitches. Marco is beside me before I can blink, readjusting my pillows. “You don’t have to do that. I’m okay, I promise.” He skulks back to the couch and lies down, his feet dangling over the edge.
Another stab of guilt pricks at my wound, and this time, it’s not the stitches. For a hospital bed, mine is remarkably roomy. Before I can think on all the reasons why this is a bad idea, I scoot over to one side and pat the empty half. “Why don’t you come lie down?”
His dark brows shoot up, nearly reaching the tumble of wild locks falling across his forehead. A long minute of silence fills the cold room. “Nah, I don’t want to accidentally squish you or something…”
“You won’t; I’m not some fragile little flower. Just get over here. I can’t stand seeing you so uncomfortable.”
He snorts on a laugh. “Me? You’re the one that was shot, Jia.” The bitter edge to his tone lingers in the air between us.
“And I’m on plenty of pain meds,” I hiss. “Now get your ass over here, honey , so I can squeeze your hand at the scary parts. ”
The hard set of his jaw softens, the tempest of emotions in that dark gaze settling. Painstakingly slowly, he rises, eyes intent on mine, as if he’s waiting for me to change my mind. After hovering beside the bed for an eternity, he finally folds onto the mattress beside me. He’s so close to the edge I’m scared he’ll roll off if he breathes too hard.
So I thread my fingers through his and tug him a little closer. “I’ll warn you now, I have a tendency to dig my nails into skin when I get scared.”
His gaze pivots to mine, and a slow smile melts across his face. “Do your worst, spitfire. I can handle it.”
Bright sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, highlighting the soaring peaks of downtown Manhattan’s sleek skyrises. An entire week later, and I’m finally home. As Yéye leads me into the penthouse, I can’t believe I actually just called this place home. Maybe I hit my head when I was shot?
No, it must be the endless days stuck in that hospital room—or rather, the suite my overbearing husband had insisted upon. He’d also insisted on spending every night on the tiny pull-out couch. Despite the high-end suite, after a week, those four walls were starting to close in on me.
Marco watches as Yéye leads me to the pristine white leather couches of the living room. Those intent eyes follow me everywhere. I don’t think he’s let me out of his sight for more than an hour this entire week. He worked from the hospital room the past few days, conducting conference calls from the bathroom, had elaborate dinners delivered, and even hired an aesthetician to give me a facial in bed.
To say he’s been doting on me would be an understatement.
I’m fairly certain he’s going above and beyond to make up for the fact he still hasn’t figured out who tried to kill me .
Or him.
The infallible Marco Rossi doesn’t allow anyone to touch what’s his and live to tell about it. And yet, here we are a week later with no answers. It’s done a number on his pride.
I sink into the soft leather, and a twinge of discomfort purses my lips. Even after all this time, the wound is sore. I’d only been released after my husband flashed his million-dollar smile and fat wallet. Gemini Corp is one of the hospital’s biggest donors. The doctor had made me promise to take it easy for at least another week.
Yéye folds down beside me and offers a smile. “I am happy you are home, bǎobèi .”
“Me too.” And it’s actually not a lie. A familiar scent fills my nostrils, and a smile instantly threatens to surface. A vase filled with jasmine blossoms sits on the coffee table, perfuming the air, much like the one that had been delivered to the hospital. Did my new husband know they were my favorite?
Marco’s heavy footfalls slap across the marble as he approaches, and a prickle of awareness skates over my skin. It hasn’t escaped my attention that this will be the first night we’ll spend alone together in our bedroom since our wedding. And we have yet to consummate our marriage.
“I have an important call I need to take in my office, but I’ve already ordered lunch. It should be here any minute.” He ticks his head at the imposing male standing by the entrance. “Nicky will get the door.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Rossi, you have been quite hospitable.” Yéye squeezes my hand and turns to me. “My stay is nearly coming to an end, bǎobèi . I fear I may have already overstayed my welcome.”
“No, not at all!” I bite my tongue to keep from crying out, please don’t go !
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, Mr. Guo.” Marco offers a surprisingly pleasant smile .
“I’m certain I am no longer needed here.”
“You are!” I blurt. My grandfather has been covering the day to day running of the Four Seas in my absence, and now that it’s time to take the reins, the idea of it has anxiety churning in my gut. “We haven’t even found the person responsible for the shooting.”
Marco’s expression darkens, his jaw clenching so tight a tendon flutters across his cheek. “I haven’t exactly had time with you in the hospital?—”
I raise a hand, cutting him off. “I’m not saying it’s your fault, only that we could still use my grandfather’s help, right? No one knows how to run the Four Seas better than he does.”
“Yes, of course,” he grits out.
I can practically see his fragile male ego deflating and for once, I actually feel badly about it. Because my new husband has been nothing but dedicated this past week.
Before I can open my mouth, Marco whirls on his heel and stomps down the corridor to his office. Damn it .
I blow out a frustrated sigh and tip my head back to stare at the high ceilings.
“Marriage is never easy, bǎobèi. And the circumstances in which you’ve begun yours make it even more challenging, but I have faith that all will work out as it should.”
“Right…”
“I will remain only a few days more. Now that you are home, I am confident you and Mr. Rossi will learn to successfully navigate the turbulent seas of marriage along with running an empire such as yours side by side.”
I hope he’s right.