Page 14 of Precious Hazard (Perfectly Imperfect #11)

“There’s no point in fighting a battle you can’t win, Tara. We’re getting married, regardless of how you feel about it. Why won’t you just accept the situation for what it is?”

Because I can’t! My life has been a revolving door of self-made disasters. Constant screwups and gross mistakes. Even when I tried to do the right thing, I couldn’t stick with it.

My relationships haven’t gone any better because I just keep choosing to date one loser after another.

I’m like a magnet for every fuckwit and cheater around.

If they’re lucky, they just stomp on my heart and split.

If they aren’t, they end up dead. Dating me seems to be hazardous to a guy’s health.

Exhibit A: Stavros. Exhibit B: Petar, who died in a confrontation with Cosa Nostra nearly three years ago.

That kind of track record doesn’t bode well for finding the love of my life. The one man who’d love me despite my faults. Whose love for me would rival the greatest romance stories ever told. And we would spend our days and nights being happy.

That’s what I want. What I dream of. But now, that dream is being crushed by some asinine idea the New York Cosa Nostra don cooked up.

And then further ground down by this bullheaded Satan hiding in gorgeous flesh.

For whatever reason, the two figured they had the right to dictate my life.

To stomp out every possibility of me finding my own happiness, all for their heartless whims.

I can’t let that happen! Can’t give up the fight. I want my “happily ever after!” And Arturo DeVille is definitely not it!

“Go ahead and turn in that gun with my prints,” I whisper. “I’d rather rot in prison than marry you.”

“You sure? Because time behind bars wouldn’t be the worst of your problems. Word on the street is that old Katrakis is going apeshit, looking for his son all over the tristate area. Maybe I should send him a tip about your ex’s whereabouts?”

“Be my guest.”

DeVille leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and propping his chin up with his clasped hands. His dark depths sear me from beneath his pinched brows.

“One year,” he says after a while.

“One year… what?”

“We’ll stay married for one year. Then, I’ll give you a divorce.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “And what would your beloved don say to that?”

“Ajello believes that the marriage between us will fix my relationship with your brother. And… some other things. When his gambit doesn’t pan out, and when he realizes that you and I will likely kill each other, he won’t oppose it.”

“Really? I had no idea your don is such a reasonable man.”

“He’s not, but he is pragmatic. With nothing to gain, he will yield.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Two months,” I counter.

“A year. Not a day less.”

“Why?”

“Ajello isn’t the type to be easily convinced he’s wrong. It’ll take a year, at minimum.”

I tap my finger on my lips while a myriad of thoughts race through my mind. “What if, on our wedding night, I try to slit your throat? Would that convince him that us being married is a bad idea faster?”

“Nope. He’ll just say we weren’t trying hard enough.” He drops his head and seems to stare at nothing on the floor.

It’s evident that he doesn’t want this marriage to happen any more than I do, but he’s hell-bent on following through with it.

He is entirely willing to sacrifice everything he wants in life to honor his commitment to the don.

I would admire the man and his loyalty and determination if his steely resolve weren’t ruining my life .

For the thousandth time, I wish I could kick myself.

What the hell possessed me to grab his fucking gun?

If I hadn’t, he’d have nothing to blackmail me with.

No prints. No threat to hold over my head.

It’s not like I was going to shoot him. He is Sienna’s brother, after all.

And, my love for her surpasses even the hatred I feel toward him. Fuck!

“Alright. One year. And only if it’s a civil ceremony. I’m not getting married to you in a church.” I jut my chin. “And, I want half of all your assets, not just marital property, in a divorce. You can put that in a prenup.”

He bursts out laughing. “Not happening.”

“If I’m being forced to be your wife, I expect compensation. Substantial compensation. Half of everything you own sounds fair.”

“I’m not handing over five hundred million to you, Tara.”

Whoa . I blink. I had no idea Sienna’s brother is that loaded. “Fine. I’ll take twelve. A million for each month we’re married.”

There’s no way he’ll agree to this. The only thing Cosa Nostra men value, apart from their beloved Family, is money. He’ll weigh the pros and cons and see that it’s simply not worth it. Too steep a price for his pride.

No. Come on, let me hear it. N-O.

DeVille grits his teeth. His gaze scorches me as he leans back against the couch cushions, spreading his arms along the top edge.

He posed exactly the same way at Naos. Arrogant prick.

That posture screams I’m the king, and you should bow down to me .

Except it doesn’t quite work with his current scowl and the dark look of frustration on his face.

What’s he waiting for? Is he actually considering it?

Nah, DeVille is too stubborn to compromise.

But as much as his overbearing traits have been clear from the get-go, he has managed to surprise me with one thing.

I never would have guessed Arturo DeVille is a man who’d be partial to tattoos.

He rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt when he started cooking, and now I’m nearly mesmerized by the dark ink on his ropey, thickly muscled right forearm.

“Alright.” His deep voice explodes into the silence of the room. “I accept those terms.”

“What?” I reel back, confused.

“One year. Twelve million dollars. You got yourself a deal, gattina .”

Bile rises in my throat. No. No. No. I don’t want his damn money! I don’t want anything from him except for him to disappear from my life. “I… I wasn’t serious. I just—”

He leaps off the couch and closes the distance between us so fast that I don’t even get the chance to finish the sentence.

“You what? You’re just fucking with me again?” His eyes darken. “No one fucks with me, Tara. You laid out your offer. I accepted. So don’t even think about going back on your word. Because if you do, I’ll destroy you. Piece by piece. Along with everyone you hold dear. You got that?”

I swallow as a sour taste fills my mouth.

My stomach roils and then drops to the floor.

There’s so much hostility and conviction in his eyes that I don’t doubt a single word.

He’s serious. The pressure behind my eyes means I’m seconds from losing my composure.

But I’ll be damned if I ever again let even one tear slide in front of this bastard.

Lifting my chin, I meet his unrelenting stare. “I want to see the prenup as soon as you have it drafted. The twelve million is to be deposited in my account the day our divorce is finalized.”

“Fine. The venue is already taken care of, but do you have any interest in choosing decorations or other wedding shit?”

“ Zer-oh .”

His eyes fall to my lips when I enunciate the oh sound.

“Perfect,” he barks. “This will be a high-profile event, attended by the elite of Cosa Nostra. I won’t have you embarrass me like you tried to do tonight.

Make sure your wedding dress is nice and elegant.

No slits up to your ass or plunging necklines where your tits fall out.

No flashing your garters so every Tom, Dick, and Harry can picture you in your lingerie. Understood?”

I arch an eyebrow. He noticed my outfit at Drago and Sienna’s svadba ?

I thought he might have been too busy dodging the hors d’oeuvres I threw at him.

However, considering he just described what I wore that day in exact detail, I can’t help but think that he did.

“I’ll make sure it covers me from head to foot.

Wouldn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities. ”

“Glad we’re on the same page. Thursday. I’ll pick you up at noon, for lunch. Dress appropriately to be seen in public, and”—he looks pointedly at the top of my head—“preferably, keep your hair… accessory … free.”

“Of course. If that’s all, I’ll see myself out. Don’t worry, I’ll call a cab.”

“That. Is. All,” he growls. “But I’m driving you back.”