Page 2 of Precious Hazard (Perfectly Imperfect #11)

Fifteen years ago

It starts as a smolder, deep inside my chest. Then, a spark flits to life, bursting into a tiny flare that slowly fills the hollow cavity.

Like a dry open wilderness, soon enough, I’m consumed by a raging firestorm.

It’s hard to imagine such wrath can be born from a mere strike of a match.

A delicate flame that oftentimes can’t even withstand a gentle breeze.

Yet here I am. With an abundance of fuel to feed my fury, the blaze in my veins is ready to destroy everything in its path.

Because the bastard sitting smugly before me wants my sisters.

Wants to rip them away from me.

The don takes a puff of his cigar, dropping the extinguished match into a nearby ashtray.

He’s perched in an enormous wingback chair at the center of the room, momentarily transfixed by the Cuban in his gnarled, age-spotted hand.

With his dry, loose skin and thinning hair, he has always reminded me of a decaying corpse.

And tonight, if he insists on taking my sisters from me, I’ll turn him into one.

“The girls will need a woman’s guidance, Arturo. Surely you understand that.” Another puff gets dragged into his tar- infused lungs, and I can’t help but wish he’d choke on it. “And who could do a better job of caring for them than your mother’s sister?”

That goddamned fucking bitch! I knew that putana would be behind this.

And it has nothing to do with her being a worried aunt.

After Cosa Nostra all but renounced her when she married a man from outside of the Family, she’s been trying everything she could think of to get into the don’s good graces.

Especially since her husband died two years ago. And now, she’s found the perfect way.

Over my dead body!

“I will be taking care of my sisters,” I growl while scorching ire races through my blood, whipping the raging fire within me into an inferno. “No one else.”

“Oh, come on, my boy… You’re barely twenty. How can you expect to raise two five-year-olds and also fulfill your obligations to the Family? To me?” The don gives me a patronizing sneer.

My hands fist at my sides, nails digging into the calloused skin of my palms. The urge to wrap my fingers around the self-absorbed motherfucker’s neck and kill him on the spot is excruciating.

“I’ll manage,” I say through my teeth.

“Vitoria loves the girls. She’s already started to decorate their rooms in her home. Your aunt is very excited to have them live with her.”

Sure she is. The only thing that conniving hag is concerned about is revamping her own life. If she becomes Sienna and Asya’s legal guardian, she’ll stand to greatly benefit from their eventual marriages. She’ll sell my sisters off to the highest bidders.

“I’ll fight for custody.” Somehow, I manage to spit out the words despite the giant lump lodged in my throat. Despair is pressing on my chest like a boulder.

“No, Arturo. You’ll do no such thing.”

Every cell in me is boiling. My blood has turned into molten lava, ready to incinerate the fucker leaning back in his chair in front of me like he’s on a goddamned throne. Less than ten feet separate me from the don. If we were alone, I would’ve already snuffed the life out of him.

But we are not alone.

All of the Family higher-ups are present.

The hoard of their muscle in perfectly-fitted suits lined up like fucked-up toy soldiers along the wall.

To guarantee I don’t step out of line in front of the don, I guess.

Salvatore Ajello, someone I consider a friend despite the fact that he’s never shown any similar esteem toward me, is among them.

His piercing glare is trained directly on me.

We might be friendly at work, but I have no doubt he’d off me without hesitation if I made a move to kill the piece of shit currently ruling the New York Family.

That poor excuse for a don, one who does little to nothing to protect his people.

Who has now stooped to wrenching grieving five-year-old girls out of their home just days after our parents’ deaths.

Which means I don’t fucking care… So-called friend or not, if Ajello stands in my way, I’ll find some way to get past him and kill the bastard trying to steal my sisters.

Sienna and Asya are everything that matters to me.

Without them, I’ll have nothing left to lose.

“You may go now.” The don stubs his cigar out in the ashtray. “I’ve made my decision. Make sure the girls are packed and ready to leave tomorrow morning.”

Red.

All I can see is fucking red. Rage blankets my vision in a thick haze as I flex my hands and take a step forward, prepared to commit the highest treason, regardless of the consequences to me.

The don is a dead man.

I move a step toward him when, out of nowhere, pain explodes through the right side of my jaw and my head snaps to the side. It takes me several heartbeats to blink away the blur that clouds my vision and then to recognize Ajello’s broad form blocking my path.

“Turn around and walk out.” He grabs the front of my shirt, shoving me backward. “Right the fuck now.”

Not happening. I push him off and land a jab to his chin, just as he did to me.

“Move,” I rasp.

Ajello simply wipes the blood off his split lip with the back of his hand. His face remains completely expressionless while he grabs my shirt again and leans into my face.

“I’ll fix this.” His words are only just audible, too low for anyone other than me to hear. “I give you my word.”

Too stunned by the earnest look on his face that implores me to trust him, I’m still processing what he said when Ajello buries his knee in my diaphragm. The force of his strike sends me stumbling back.

“Get lost, DeVille,” he barks. “And do as you’ve been told.”

Struggling to draw air into my lungs, I stare at Ajello in confusion.

I’m fairly certain the dick just broke one or two of my fucking ribs.

With him being a member of the don’s personal security, I’m not the least bit surprised by his protection of the old man.

But if he’s carrying out his duty, why is there a strange look in his usually stolid depths?

Why are they blazing at me, but not in anger?

There’s an almost reverent plea in the normally cold depths.

One utterly at odds with his ready-to-fight stance.

A barely-there movement of his mouth attracts my attention, but no sound leaves Ajello as we continue our blatant standoff. He repeats the motion. Much slower this time, allowing me to read his lips.

Trust me .

I’ve never seen Ajello show any measure of care for another person, but as he regards me with his back turned to the room full of snakes, I realize what that look in his eyes is.

Concern.

For me.

Can I trust him? This weird, unemotional guy? Despite being only a year older than me, he makes men twice our age wary because of this freakishness. Why the fuck would he give a shit about me, or my sisters? It doesn’t make any fucking sense.

My gaze sweeps over the men gathered around the room.

Most of them have their hands on their weapons, ready to kill me on the spot if I make one wrong move.

Even if I get past Ajello, it would mean nothing.

Someone will drop me for my insubordination before I ever get close to the don.

Taking a deep breath, I lock gazes with Ajello again.

I have no choice but to trust him.

I nod.

“Go.” He gives me a nod in return.

While my ribs scream in agony, I straighten and leave the room. Desperately clinging to a slim hope that he’ll keep his promise.