Her Singapore Fling (14 page)

Singapore, two years later…

M
ORNING
came softly to some. It crept up on them one slow and languid stretch at a time. Jianne's mornings often started that way, much to Jacob's amusement and lazy satisfaction. He loved the smile that stole over Jianne's lips when she sensed that he was awake and watching her. He loved the way her eyes would open and fix on him, and there'd be a smile in them too, along with a promise.

Two years married—remarried—and it only got better. Zhi Fu had stopped his pursuit of Jianne and returned to Shangahi. According to Jianne's mother, Zhi Fu had recently taken a wife. Jake and Jianne hadn't been invited to the wedding.

Po had disappeared in the days following the burning of the dojo. Disappeared and then reappeared at a Singapore police station three days later, bruised and beaten, with a three-year-old girl and a six-year-old boy in tow. His half-brother and sister—with their mother dead, as Po's mother was dead, and a vengeful arsonist for a father. The justice system had taken care of Po's father. Po's half-siblings had been taken in by their
maternal grandmother. Po's father had been the boy's only living relative, so Jake and Jianne—with the aid of the best lawyers money could buy—had won the right to care for Po until the boy reached his majority. Beyond then, too, for Po was theirs now—now and for ever—a Bennett of the heart and to hell with blood.

Out of the ashes of misfortune more than one phoenix had risen.

A boy so wise and gifted and hungry to make a difference that Jake could barely wait to see what Po would become.

A dojo had been rebuilt in the exact place where only ashes had remained. A dojo and a home—complete with underground parking, rooftop garden, a children's wing, office space for Jianne, and ample guest accommodation for both family and students.

And a marriage had flourished.

Jianne Xang-Bennett loved her husband, loved him well and often, and Jake revelled in it, fed on it, and counted himself the most fortunate man in the world because of it. Whether fortune favoured the brave or whether every man was the architect of his own fortune—he didn't care. Jake had his family, he had everything he'd ever wanted and he was never letting go.

Jacob slid from his bed without waking Jianne, and padded silently into the adjoining room and over to where someone
was
awake. A tiny baby girl with rosebud lips, silky black hair, and eyes so dark and beautiful that he melted every time she looked his way. She didn't have a name—not yet. He and Jianne were running a little late in that regard.

From the moment she'd slid out of her mother, red-faced and roaring with fury, she'd captured his heart.
A midwife had handed the screaming bundle to him, and she'd stopped on a hiccup, and stared at him with dark, slightly unfocused eyes. Her tiny fern-like fist had unfurled and he'd touched it in wonder, marvelling at her perfection. And she'd closed her impossibly tiny hand around his finger, and gripped hard, and with that one gesture she had captured his soul for ever.

‘Like her father,' Jianne had said with a smile. ‘What she has, she holds.'

‘Like her mother,' he'd responded. ‘Impossibly beautiful.'

His brother Luke had taken one look at Jake holding his baby daughter and said, ‘Man, she is so cute.' And then the baby had grabbed Luke's hair in an imperious grip, and he'd muttered, ‘And we are so screwed.'

‘Trouble,' said Po, when he first held Jake's daughter, but that didn't stop the boy from wanting to carry trouble with him wherever he went. Trouble had a willing slave and his name was Po.

Jake simply thought of her as
beloved
.

‘You're going to meet your aunts and uncles today,' Jake told the tiny girl as he lifted her from her crib and settled her against his chest. ‘And your cousins. They're here for your christening.' Hence the slight urgency surrounding the baby's name. ‘Your aunt Hallie will probably try and scare you with talk of wide brimmed hats and pinafore dresses that end at your ankles but don't you take any notice of her. The Bennett brothers have moved on. I'm sure if you carry a parasol and keep your knees covered, everything will be just fine.'

The poppet nuzzled his chest and thumped him with a tiny fist. Jake's besotted smile turned wry. ‘I'm taking that as a
“yes, Daddy”
.'

Jake offered up a finger and his daughter grasped it with tiny fingers. ‘And don't you give your cousins any grief, either. They may be wild, but they'll be there for you when you need them, until the end of time. It's how Bennetts are made. Never forget that.'

The tiny baby brought her fist to her mouth, with Jake's finger still locked firmly in her grasp.

‘She's hungry,' said a voice from behind him, and then Jianne was sliding her arm around his waist and setting gentle fingers to her daughter's head.

‘I know.' Jake tried to extricate his finger but his baby held firm. ‘She won't let go.'

‘Smart girl,' said Jianne. ‘I wouldn't either.'

‘She's so fragile,' murmured Jake. Such a delicate little thing to hold him in such thrall.

‘She's stronger than she looks.' Jianne rested her cheek against his shoulder. ‘She has her father's heart. A heart from which others take strength. A tiger's heart.'

‘Is that a warning?' asked Jake.

‘It probably should be,' murmured Jianne. ‘But I prefer to think of it as a blessing. It's also all your fault, by the way. And I've thought of a name. Our daughter will need a strong name.'

‘You're not calling her Tiger,' said Jake.

Jianne smiled serenely. ‘I thought Willow. One who bends but never breaks, no matter how wild the storm. In Chinese it would be Lian. Lian-li if you like, although the second name is more traditionally a boy's name or a surname. It means strength.'

‘Pretty,' said Jake. And to the baby, ‘What do you think, Li-li? Are you strong enough for such a name?'

‘Of course she is,' said Jianne with a swift kiss for his cheek and then a more lingering greeting for his mouth. ‘She's a Bennett.'