Page 22 of Precious Hazard (Perfectly Imperfect #11)

I shift, drawing both men’s attention to me even while they continue to point their guns at each other. With my heart in my throat, my eyes frantically flit from my brother to my future husband. Fuck. Fuck! FUCK!! What do I do now? Think, damn it, think!

“I’m pregnant!”

“WHAT?!” both men bellow in unison.

Drago’s nostrils flare, and his murderous glare slashes DeVille. “You got my sister pregnant, you son of a bitch?”

Oh, shit! Wrong move, Tara. Bad, bad decision.

I wedge myself between them, facing Drago. “He didn’t,” I blurt, an instant too late to realize how that sounds, so I quickly add, “I mean… maybe . But… I might be pregnant. We had sex. Lots and lots of sex. So much sex that I might be carrying twins. Even triplets.”

I chance a look over my shoulder at DeVille.

He’s watching me with raised eyebrows. His eyes look like they’re glowing, but I can’t be sure if it’s because he’s laughing or getting ready to shoot me next.

His gun is still aimed at Drago’s head, but it wouldn’t take much for him to switch his target.

Well, fuck that! I’ve had enough.

“Lower your weapon,” I snap at DeVille, then turn back to my brother. “You too, Drago, put down your gun. I’m sick of this macho bullshit between the two of you. I’m a big girl and I can decide for myself.”

“And you’ve decided to marry this guy?”

“Yes.”

“By your own free will?” He narrows his eyes at me. “No one is making you do this? And this isn’t some sort of game where you two are just fucking with me?”

“Of course not!”

“You’re actually in love with this jerk and want to spend your life with him?”

Stepping back, I lean against Satan’s chest and grab his free hand, wrapping his arm around me.

Immediately, I feel the heat of his body and the hardness of his taut muscles at my back, his warm breath upon my neck, and the flex of his splayed fingers on my stomach as he tightens his hold on me.

His spicy cologne invades my senses, the hint of sweet smoke sending shivers racing along my spine.

My pulse speeds up, and I hope my smile looks genuine as I say, “I am totally and completely in love with this jerk.”

Exhaling audibly, Drago lowers his gun and slides it back into its holster.

He stretches his hand out to me while a strange expression crosses his face.

There’s a mix of concern and resignation in his gaze.

I take a step toward my brother, but the arm around my waist tightens even more.

When I glance over my shoulder, my gaze collides with a dark, smoldering glare.

Before I can say anything, DeVille’s hand falls away. The loss of that contact chills me.

Confused by the myriad of emotions overwhelming me, I turn back to face Drago. As my brother pulls me into his arms, an all-consuming warmth, something I’ve always connected with safety and home, envelops me.

“Okay, sis,” he whispers as he drops a kiss on the top of my head.

I pull back, searching his eyes. What am I looking for?

“Okay?” I choke out. That’s all he has to say?

“You’re right. You can make your own decisions, Tara. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Um… yes?” Why did that come out like a question?

Warm lips graze my forehead this time. “I hope you won’t regret your choice.”

Panic and sheer terror at what I’ve done turn my stomach as my brother takes a step back. He’s letting me go. Allowing me to marry DeVille. Despite everything I said, I guess I figured he’d still “save me” from this mess somehow. Just as he’s always done.

Has Drago finally decided I’m beyond saving?

Twenty-four hours earlier

Naos

“You’re looking good, Ajello,” I say while bringing a glass of whiskey up to my mouth to hide my grin.

Three long, freshly made scratches mar his jaw.

Based on the shape and spacing of the thin red lines, I’d say the markings were done by a small animal.

My guess, the endless war between the don and his wife’s demonic cat has reached new heights.

At this rate, the feud is turning into an urban legend, leaving some of us eager to see who’ll come out on top.

There might even be a pool happening. In certain circles.

“Life treating you well, I assume?”

“Perfect, actually,” he replies, his gaze intensely focused on my forehead. “Love what you’ve done with your eyebrow. A new trend among the bikers, perhaps?”

I run my hand over my brow, and my palm comes away smeared in pink goo glinting with tiny gold sparkles. Sienna’s latest purchase: the Super Sparkling, Long-lasting Lip Gloss . They got that one right.

Awesome.

“Yeah. It’s the newest craze.” I grin.

This idle chitchat isn’t fooling me for a minute, and I can’t help but wonder what the hell the Italian don’s scheme is this time. And why exactly is he sitting in my club?

If my memory serves me right, Salvatore Ajello has set foot in Naos only once.

A year ago. To discuss the renewal of our collaboration.

That’s when he offered Sienna DeVille to me as a wife, to sweeten the deal.

Having him across from me again, while we sit in the same booth, gets my mind spinning over what devious plan he’s cooked up now.

Especially since he insisted on meeting face-to-face. Just the two of us.

“What brings you here, Ajello?”

“A delicate family matter, if you must know. One that I need you to hear me out on. Don’t go off the rails and start killing the parties involved, as I expect you might be tempted to do.

Listen to the reasons for what I’m about to tell you, and I’m certain you’ll understand that there are benefits for both sides. ”

I narrow my eyes. “Stop your cajoling, Ajello, and just spit it out.”

“I’m concerned about a friend of mine, so I suggested that he should get married.”

I shake my head. What’s with Ajello and his recent obsession with getting everyone around him hitched?

Is arranging marriages a new hobby of his, or is he just bored?

A man like Salvatore Ajello, with nothing productive to do, is a serious threat to society.

God only knows what crazy ideas might pop into his head.

But if he has developed a sudden interest in matchmaking, I can get Adam to contact a buddy of his who runs a local radio station.

Maybe Ajello could get his own show? Mm-hmm.

Nightly dating advice from the Cosa Nostra don.

Live, on air. I snicker inwardly, imagining it.

“You free on Thursday evenings?” I ask.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” I shrug. “So, why come to me? You want to book Naos to hold the celebration? Looking for a friends and family discount for these poor souls getting blissfully wed? Who are they, by the way?”

“Arturo and your sister.”

My forehead furrows. I must have misread his lips. “Say that again.”

“Surely you’ve noticed the two of them are dating.”

“Bullshit. It’s a stupid farce DeVille put Tara up to somehow. I haven’t yet figured out his endgame, but I don’t believe for a moment that shit between the two of them is genuine.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Ajello spreads his arms along the back of the sofa. “Because it is serious. In fact, Arturo will be coming to see you tomorrow to formally ask you for your sister’s hand. He greatly values traditions.”

“He can ask.” I grin. “And I will maim him.”

“What you should do, Drago, is ask yourself why your sister agreed to marry Arturo in the first place.”

Rage clouds my vision. I stand up and lean over the table, getting in Ajello’s face. “What did you do, you asshole? Did you threaten her like you threatened Sienna? Because if you did, I’m going to—”

“I did absolutely nothing beyond offering the name of a bride,” he interrupts. “Whatever made Tara go along with the idea of marriage is something between Arturo and her. If your sister wanted you to intercede in that situation in any way, she would have come to you.”

The anger pulsing in my head morphs into confusion.

A moment later, a shocking revelation sends me reeling.

There’s no way Tara is in love with Arturo.

Which means she’s been faking with that bastard, probably for my sake.

The question is, why? What did she get herself into this time?

And why the fuck didn’t she come to me for help?

“Where the fuck is my brother-in-law? I’m going to put a stop to this insanity immediately,” I bark. “Whatever she did, I’ll fix it.”

“Like you always do?”

“Yes!”

“You’ll just keep on saving her over and over?

Robbing her of every opportunity to solve her own problems?

To own up to the mistakes she’s made and feel pride when she finally has a chance to overcome them?

” He cocks his head to the side while his gaze drills into mine.

“Are you really that selfish? Or maybe… you’re simply afraid. ”

My throat burns with the acid rising up from my gut, and I want nothing more than to punch this motherfucker. Because he’s right. And I hate him for it.

“You can’t expect me to just sit back and watch Tara ruin her happiness. Regardless of how they act, I know she hates him. Trying to prevent my baby sister from being miserable for the rest of her life,” I rasp, “is that your view of selfishness?”

“Actually, it will only be a year.”

“What?”

Something resembling a slight smirk dances on Ajello’s lips. It must be a trick of the light because the man never smiles.

“A little birdie told me they made a deal. Arturo and Tara. He’ll give her a divorce once their year of marriage is through.

” A corner of his mouth edges upward. “And she’ll receive a million dollars for every month they’re together.

That was her demand, which Arturo had no choice but to comply with. Very clever, that sister of yours.”

“ Isuse .” I snatch the tumbler of whiskey off the table and down the contents in a single gulp.

“I know you love Tara. She’s the only blood you have left.

But she desperately needs to learn how to deal with the repercussions of her actions.

Alone. And this particular lesson is best learned when it’s lived.

Despite this useless animosity between you and Arturo, you must know that he would never do anything to hurt your sister.

So why not let this marriage play out and see what happens?

” He shrugs. “Besides, there’s that little fact that you owe Cosa Nostra for saving your life after your skirmish with the Romanians.

Surely, indulging me by not standing in the way of this union is reasonable in terms of repaying that debt? ”

“What do you get out of it?” I snap. “This… this foolish marriage experiment or whatever you want to call it? And what’s in it for DeVille?”

“I want Arturo to be happy. And you undoubtedly want the same for your sister. I’m confident that he and Tara are actually a perfect match. Neither of them thinks so, but I’m certain this little ordeal will prove it to them. For it to be a success, though, I need you to do your part.”

“Meaning, just sit back, watch, and pretend I’m buying their charade?”

“Exactly.” Ajello rises and adjusts his jacket. “Trust me. I have a good feeling about this.”

With his hands in his pants pockets, the Italian don strides across the empty dance floor. Despite a slightly uneven gait, he looks as if he’s taking a casual stroll. Not a worry in the world rests upon him.

“A fucking brain disorder,” I mutter. “That’s what you have, you scheming lunatic.”

Next to my empty glass on the table, my phone vibrates with an incoming text. I ignore it, still too preoccupied by that conversation. The man is obviously nuts. But he is also right. I’ve been squeezing Tara too tightly, trying to keep her safe. From everything. Even her own choices.

Maybe… Maybe it’s time to let her save herself.

But, if things go south… If that smug, pretty-boy bastard hurts my sister… That gold cross around his neck won’t be the only one he’s wearing. And he won’t survive my brand of faith.