reserve had seemed to run soul deep. Either she’d come out of her shell somewhat over the intervening years or she was deeply spooked by Zhi Fu’s latest move. ‘I need a place to stay. Somewhere that fits with the overall plan. Somewhere I can feel safe.’
She looked at him then and he knew, he just knew what was coming next. ‘Oh, no,’ he said. ‘No,’ and ran his hands through his hair for good measure. ‘You can’t be thinking of staying here.’
‘Madeline says you have a row of rooms out the back that you put people in.’
‘Yes, but…have you seen them? We’re talking no frills here, Jianne. Not one.’
‘I don’t need much.’
‘No cook, no maid, just me and Po and four or five karate classes a day, starting at six and running through until late. The kid hardly sleeps. Sometimes if I’m awake we’ll train during the night. And this is the kitchen. It’s also the dining room, lounge room, and Po’s study.’
She stared at him steadily.
He couldn’t believe she thought this would work. That they could make it work. Escorting her here and there on occasion was one thing, but this…‘Wait till you see the bathrooms.’
‘If you don’t want me here, just say so,’ she said calmly. ‘It’s a lot to ask of you. An invasion of your privacy that makes going through your wallet look like child’s play. I know that. I will understand if you say no, Jacob.’
‘And if I do say no?’ he countered. ‘Where will you go?’
She had no answer for that.
‘You won’t like it here. There’s no softness here,’ he warned her one last time. ‘It’s sweaty and hot and noisy and raw. The street is two steps away. It’s not a particularly peaceful street.’
‘I’ll manage.’
He couldn’t believe he was even considering her request. Thinking forward to where to put her and how best to protect her. He paced the tiny kitchen with growing agitation. He scowled for good measure. She looked like a fragile fairy-tale princess. Snow White in need of a haven. He, on the other hand, was wearing black track sweats, a ratty grey T-shirt, and he wasn’t wearing shoes. Where the hell were a bunch of pickaxe-toting dwarves when you needed them?
‘Come with me,’ he muttered and led her up a narrow staircase to one side of the training floor, and opened the door to his crib.
It was spacious. Space he had in spades, which was something of a luxury in Singapore. A huge expanse of polished wooden floorboard covering an area the same size as the training hall below. A bed made up with white sheets, a navy-coloured coverlet and a couple of pillows graced the far corner. He’d had a shower and toilet plumbed into the opposite corner, with a half-wall and a makeshift screen providing some semblance of privacy. A highset band of slatted warehouse windows ran the length of both longways walls. He’d covered one of those walls with a row of silk tapestries depicting a battle scene, heavy on the death and destruction. A reading chair, a reading lamp, and a not-quite-straight bookshelf crammed with books completed the tableau. Narrow storage space behind the far wall hid his belongings and his clothes.
‘It’s still not much but it’s better than what’s on offer downstairs,’ he said curtly.
‘But…’ Jianne gazed around her in silence and he gritted his teeth at how sparsely furnished his home no doubt looked to her eyes. ‘This is your space.’
‘I’ll clear out. I can stay downstairs.’
‘No! There’s no need to turn you out of your bed. I never meant to do that. Have me stay downstairs. Whatever’s there, it’ll do.’
‘This is what I’m offering, Jianne. It’s the only offer you’ll get from me when it comes to accommodation. You, up here, out of the way.’
She hesitated.
‘Take it or leave it.’ On this he would not bend.
‘Okay.’ She took a deep breath, as if shoring up her resolve. ‘I’ll take it. I’ll pay rent, of course,’ she added hurriedly, and named a weekly rate that would have kept her in six star luxury, not a warehouse bedsit atop a downtown dojo.
‘Keep your money,’ he grated. ‘I don’t want it.’
Jianne recoiled as if he’d struck her.
Jake gritted his teeth and prayed for mercy. ‘Must you flinch every time I look at you?’
‘Must you glare every time I open my mouth?’ she replied in kind. ‘People pay rent when they live in a place that’s not their own. Why is my offering to do so such an insult to you? Is your pride such an enormous thing that there can be no room for mine?’
Money had been a sore point between them from the moment Jianne had revealed exactly how much of the stuff she had. Tens of millions, probably hundreds of millions by now. A tiny detail she’d waited until six months into their marriage to let slip, when she’d offered to pay for a housekeeper to come in each day and help clean the Bennett family house and prepare healthy meals for a hungry family.
She’d been drowning in household chores she had no idea how to cope with and all Jake had seen was the blow to his pride. The housekeeper hadn’t eventuated. Jianne’s drowning had continued.
Not the Bennett family’s finest moment.
‘Fine,’ he amended. ‘Contribute something to the running of the place if it makes you feel better. A cleaner comes in daily—I can have him do up here too, that’s not a problem. But a couple of hundred Sing a week will cover your stay. If you still don’t think that’s enough, I’ll give you an account you can put some money into. It’s one I’ve set up for Po. Put however much you want in there.’
He thought it a fair compromise, the accepting of her money on Po’s behalf. Never let it be said that Jacob Bennett didn’t learn from his mistakes.
She sent him a long, considering look, before nodding slightly. ‘I’ll do that.’
Jake could move fast when he wanted to. Ask any opponent he’d ever faced in a championship match. Hell, ask Jianne—their courtship had lasted all of five minutes before he’d put a ring on her finger. Ever since then he’d tried to slow down some and think when it came to life-altering decisions. ‘Does your uncle know that you want to move in here?’
‘He does.’
‘And he approves?’ Jake had faced Xang family disapproval before. He knew its power. He needed to know on how many fronts he’d have to fight.
‘He does. Whatever you need, you’ll have his full co-operation.’
‘And your father?’
‘My father can’t help me,’ she said flatly.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to think about this some more?’
‘If I think about it I won’t do it.’
‘Doesn’t this tell
