44. Badges of Survival
CHAPTER 44
BADGES OF SURVIVAL
J ia
I never thought anything would take precedence over CityZen. My designs, seeing them come to life in an array of hues and textures, was what I lived for. Now, every moment I spend apart from Marco is torture. Even if I’m doing what I love most.
From my drafting table, I cast a glance across the boutique at Nicky. He stands guard at the door as always. He’s become a permanent fixture in my little shop. And I’m fairly certain my dark shadow has a crush on my best friend. Behind the tinted sunglasses, I notice the flick of his gaze following Arianna as she flutters around the space. With everything still up in the air with Blanca and La Sombra , my initial instinct was to hold off on the grand opening of CityZen, but with the Triad dragging their feet, and the Kings and Geminis arguing over the splitting of Esmeralda’s territory, it's already been a week since our visit to Puerto Rico, and we seem nowhere close to a grand finale.
I just want this Blanca woman dead.
The bitch tried to murder my fiancé, shot up our wedding, and then attempted to kill me. I don’t care what Marco says about diplomacy and keeping the shaky peace, if someone doesn’t bury a knife in the woman’s chest, I will.
Revenge is not a dish best served cold in my opinion.
I tried that once, and I regretted every day that I wasted…
Shaking my head free of grisly thoughts from the past, I remind myself that the grand opening is a week from today. I must focus.
I stare at the brilliant lavender hue of the dress stretched out across the table, my eyes settling on the sheer sleeves. An unexpected flare of anger tightens my chest. Long sleeves have been an essential part of my wardrobe, to hide the shame, to conceal my scars, for as long as I can remember. But since revealing the truth to Marco, something has changed. I don’t want to hide them anymore; I want everyone to see the scars for what they are. Badges of survival. I’d been abused by the one man who was supposed to love me unconditionally and protect me from harm, but I’d endured.
And I’d won.
Grabbing the scissors from the drawer, I tear into the fabric, and with each snip, my heart feels lighter.
“Oh my gawd, Jia! What are you doing?” Arianna stares at the ruined dress, bright eyes wide.
“I decided it needed to be short-sleeved.” In a second, I’ll do the same to the oppressive blouse I’m wearing, and my best friend will really think I’ve lost my mind. Even she has no idea of the truth. Over the years of our friendship, I’ve gone to painstaking lengths to hide these ugly scars.
But no more.
The jingle of the front door opening tears my attention away from the mangled dress to the male stalking through the entrance. My husband. I never thought I’d enjoy the feel of that word on my tongue. My mouth is uncontrollable, my lips splitting into a grin of their own accord at the sight of him in a dark suit.
“It’s a good thing you’re here, Marco,” Ari breathes. “I think Jia’s on the point of a major breakdown.”
His expression darkens as he regards me, that heated gaze raking over every inch of me then finally falling to the ruined dress. “Everything okay, spitfire?”
I wave a dismissive hand and drop the scissors. “Yes, I’m fine. Ari is totally overreacting.”
“She just cut the sleeves off that gorgeous dress!” she squeals.
Marco’s eyes meet mine, the brilliant blue darkening to a deep navy while the midnight orb smolders with starlight. “Give us a minute, Ari. Why don’t you and Nicky go grab a coffee?”
My friend’s eyes meet mine, and I nod my approval. “Bring me back the usual, please?”
“Will do, boss.” She smirks before rushing toward the big guard, already chattering away.
As soon as the chime signals their departure, Marco circles the drafting table and pulls me into his chest. “What’s going on, spitfire?” His cedarwood scent envelops me as I bury my nose in his button-down shirt. The suit is odd for this time of the day. I make a mental note to ask why later.
Propping my chin on his chest, I lift my gaze to meet his. “Nothing. I feel oddly liberated, actually.”
“That’s why you took a pair of scissors to your newest design?”
“It was symbolic.”
“Mmhmm.” He eyes me warily.
“And actually, I have you to thank for it.” I wriggle free of his embrace and reach for the scissors once more.
When I bring it up to my shoulder, Marco’s hand wraps around my wrist. His wedding band shifts, calling my attention to the white line beneath. There’s something about the new tan line that offers a sense of permanence and brings an unexpected smile to my face.
“I think there are safer ways to make this statement.” His fingers find the top button of the sheer red blouse, and he slowly undoes the first button. “First, remove the garment before cutting the sleeves.” His eyes raze over me, each move deliberate as he works his way down my top. “I think it’s very brave what you’re doing, Jia, and if you’d like, I can help you destroy every single one of your creations once I’m certain there’s no bloodshed involved. But I don’t believe that’s going to take away the pain…”
The final button comes loose, and Marco drags the blouse down over my shoulders. Bit by bit, my arms are exposed, the dozens of pale white marks crisscrossing my flesh unearthed.
His gaze turns feral as he focuses on the swell of my breasts. The lace bra leaves nothing to the imagination. Clearing his throat, he draws in a breath and fixes those enigmatic eyes to mine. His fingers trap my chin, holding my gaze steady. “Jia, your beauty is so overpowering that even if your entire body were riddled with scars, they would pale in comparison to your inner radiance. Your fierce spirit, your pure heart, your unyielding determination—these qualities draw others to you. They are what captivated me from the beginning. Embrace your scars proudly, because they have molded you into the remarkable woman you are today.”
Tears fill my eyes and one escapes, then another and another.
“I am so proud of you, spitfire.” He kisses each fallen tear. “You are quite literally perfect, which was why I chose that song for our wedding day. I was listening to the wise words of Ed Sheeran the first time I laid eyes on you in your boutique all those weeks ago. When the wedding planner asked me about our first dance, it seemed the most obvious choice. ”
Those damned tears threaten again, and I barely bite back the sob. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Why did I waste all this time despising this man? The perfect man for me.
He shrugs. “It didn’t seem like the right time then.”
His mouth captures mine once again, and the pain of the past morphs into something else with each tender touch. His mouth moves from my cheek, across my jaw and down my neck. When he finds my breasts, I arch into him as his tongue swirls around my nipple. As he continues to devour me, his hands cup my ass and lift, spinning me around so I’m sitting atop the drafting table.
“Another first, spitfire.” A sinful gaze darkens his features.
“Here?” I blurt.
He nods slowly, unbuckling his belt before dragging down his zipper. His pants and boxers slough to the floor in one swift move. His cock stands eager between us, a bead of cum already glistening on the tip.
His hands wrap around my thighs and jerk me to the edge of the table, then he slides them beneath my skirt. Anticipation has heat flaring between my legs before his fingers find my center.
“Mmm, good girl, no panties.”
“You’ve torn through so many I figured it was becoming terribly wasteful.”
“That is true.” Pushing the skirt up to my waist, he takes me in, those piercing irises swallowing me whole.
I hazard a quick peak over my shoulder at the glass walls that make up the front of the boutique. If anyone passes by and glances in this direction, they’ll get a front row view. Not to mention the possibility that Ari and Nicky could come back quicker than expected. I open my mouth to voice my concerns, but Marco’s hungry mouth swallows all objections.
His thumb is at my clit a moment later, and I’m already too far gone to object. “That’s my good girl, already drenched and ready to take my cock like an obedient wife. ”
I snort on a laugh. “Obedient, really?”
“Okay, more like obstinate wife?”
“That sounds more like me.”
He dips a finger inside me, and my head falls back, a groan escaping. I’ve forgotten all about the passersby or unexpected guests. All I can focus on is Marco and the heated sensations lashing through my body. My hips rise to meet the thrusts of his fingers, eager for more.
“I want you inside me. Now.”
“What a bossy little wife.”
“Just fuck me already, Marco.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He positions his throbbing head at my entrance, and every nerve-ending riots at the feel of him. He pushes into me without restraint, filling me so fully another groan peals out.
“Oh, Marco…”
“That’s right, spitfire, I’ve got you.” Thrust. “I’ll always be with you, always stand beside you.” Thrust. “No one will ever hurt you again now that I’m here.” Thrust. Fiery heat builds into a scorching inferno each time he sinks deeper inside me.
“I know,” I murmur.
“Good.” He captures my lips as he drives into me, faster, harder. “I want you to come for me, spitfire. Tell me that I’m the only man for you, the only man that has ever made you feel like this.”
“You are the only man for me. I come only for you, my husband .”
“ Dio , that word is so sexy on your lips. And even more so when my cock is inside you, claiming every inch of that pussy. My pussy.”
“Yours and only yours.”
My hands wrap around his muscled ass, urging him deeper, his pulsing head nudging that elusive spot.
“Don’t stop,” I moan. “I’m almost there… ”
Cupping my ass, he lifts me off the table and forces me up and down his thick shaft.
“Oh, Marco, oh fuck, I’m going to come…”
My toes curl and that raw energy courses through me, blossoming in my core and spreading like wildfire through my veins. I moan his name as his cock twitches inside me, and his warmth fills me to the brim. My breath hitches, my heart halts for a devastating instant. Everything stops but the raging pleasure. As the lingering tremors slowly subside, Marco lowers me back onto the drafting table, but we remain locked in each other’s arms for a long minute.
He feels so good, so strong. I’ve never felt so safe as when I’m surrounded by Marco. His fingers trail up my arms, tracing the patchwork of scars. His jaw tenses and that raw fury flares.
“I want that bastardo’s head for what he did to you .”
Qian used to keep it in a box, but once my brother died, I had Bà ’s head buried with the rest of his body.
“Qian was a lucky man, getting to claim that pezzo di merda ’s death.”
I nibble on my bottom lip as the secret I’ve carried for too long now weighs heavily on me. Maybe the dark confession would finally free me of him. And for some reason, I want to tell Marco the truth. I feel like he’d feel better about the hell I’d suffered.
“It wasn’t Qian,” I whisper.
“What?” His eyes fix to mine.
“I killed my father.”