Page 25 of Precious Hazard (Perfectly Imperfect #11)

“He just invited himself,” I grumble as I arrange the ham sausage and slices of cheese on the large oval platter. “You can’t just invite yourself to someone else’s family celebration.”

Sienna picks up a sprig of flat parsley and starts arranging it on top of the bowl of tuna salad, creating an artistic flower design. “Drago told me that no invitations are needed for Slava . Isn’t everyone welcome?”

“Technically… yes. But—”

“You two are officially engaged now. It’ll be weird if he doesn’t come, won’t it?”

“Yes, but—”

“And Drago, along with everyone else, would most certainly get suspicious if your fiancé doesn’t show up.” She lifts the salad bowl, admiring the intricate garnish she created with parsley and cherry tomatoes. “So actually, this is a good thing.”

I furrow my forehead. Maybe it is. My brother’s behavior has been exceptionally strange lately.

Ever since DeVille came by to ask for my hand in marriage, Drago hasn’t questioned our relationship at all.

No acidic remarks. No threats directed at DeVille.

He’s been acting as if everything is perfectly normal and even asked if I needed any help with wedding planning.

Knowing the animosity Drago feels toward Sienna’s brother, I’m entirely dumbfounded by his actions.

It’s like he’s done a complete about-face.

Oh my God! What if he found out the truth?

Then this change of behavior would totally make sense!

And it might mean— Shit! Drago believes strongly that “revenge is a dish best served cold.” What if he’s pretending to be okay with everything now, but is actually biding his time to take DeVille out when he’ll least expect it? During the wedding ceremony, perhaps?

“Sienna,” I choke out. “Have you told Drago… anything?”

“What?” She stills, briefly glancing at me. “Of course not.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise you, Tara,” she says, suddenly overly preoccupied with adjusting the placement of the cherry tomatoes. “I haven’t said anything to Drago”—her voice drops to just above a whisper—“that he didn’t already know.”

“What do you me—”

“Tara!” Keva yells from somewhere outside the kitchen. “Your Italian is here. Since he’s early, put him to work. The chairs won’t unload themselves, and Jovan needs help at the pits.”

“You better go,” Sienna says. “I’ll finish up here.”

As she practically pushes me out of the kitchen, I give her a leery look. “Okay, I’m going. But I’m fairly certain your brother won’t be interested in helping. God forbid he get a crease or a stain on his fancy suit.”

“Well, he got you into this marriage fiasco. Let him reap what he’s sown. That’s only fair, right?” she scoffs.

A grin breaks out across my face. She’s absolutely right. Why not take this opportunity to humble his arrogant ass.

***

“No.”

I give my fiancé my most sugary smile. “You’ll be a part of this family soon, darling.

It’s very important for you to be involved.

” I wrap my hands around DeVille’s upper arm and lean my head on his shoulder.

“You wouldn’t want my brother to get suspicious and think something is wrong between us, would you? ”

DeVille gives me a look that might just burn the ground under my feet to ash. The hard lines of his face and the dangerous glint in his eyes make him appear infinitely more menacing on this beautiful, bright, sunny day. And quite handsome.

He glances at the part of the backyard where five plump, whole pigs are skewered on spits above the fire pits.

I struggle to hold my laughter at bay, even as nerves tingle my nape from being remotely close to the open flame.

The expression on his face, though, is one of utter bewilderment over what he’s seeing.

“You people are completely nuts.” He shakes his head. “Roasting pigs in your yard as if we’re back in the Middle Ages. Isn’t there an ordinance about this or something?”

“And with you being such a law-abiding citizen, I can see how that would make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t really expect me to sit by the fire and spend hours rotating pigs over the coals?”

I grin. If smoke from the roasting pits gets into his clothes, I’m afraid DeVille might have a heart attack.

“An hour at most. Maybe two. As you can see, Jovan needs a break. He’s been out there nearly three hours already.

But you’re a newbie, so if your delicate sensibilities can’t handle it, I’ll understand. ”

Something that sounds like an animalistic growl leaves DeVille’s throat.

It’s deep, and rumbly, and sexy. My guess is the sound means he’s frustrated as hell.

The slight twitch in his left eye supports that theory.

I smile. Mission half accomplished. This new task should nudge him completely over the edge.

But there’s no way he’ll do it. Unloading ten dozen chairs off the delivery truck and then carrying them over to where the massive tent will be set up behind the house has already made its mark.

His typically swept-back hair looks slightly more tousled than intended by his style.

He’s abandoned his tie and suit jacket somewhere.

His pristine white shirt is now marred by several creases, the least of which are on the sleeves he’s rolled up.

I’ve spent most of the last hour ogling the corded muscles in his forearms, watching them flex and ripple as he carried the chairs toward the tent.

Satan has damn fine forearms. And his back…

Fuck. His back… Wide and sculpted, creating a perfect triangle with his narrow waist.

My gawking had nothing to do with his beautiful physique, of course.

I was just making sure that he didn’t end up in another argument with Drago or some of the other guys.

And the fluttering feeling in the pit of my stomach?

The one that I can’t seem to shake? Yeah, that has nothing to do with him either.

It’s just my usual anxiety that something might go wrong. That’s all.

His eyes bore into mine, and then he dips his head, bringing his mouth to my ear. “This is some sort of payback, isn’t it? Darling ?”

“Of course not,” I whisper in reply. “What would I have to retaliate for? It’s not as if you threatened to pin a murder on me should I not do your bidding.”

“I seem to be out of options.” His lips brush my earlobe with every word. “Especially with your brother lurking behind that stack of chairs, believing he’s invisible. We can’t give him cause to be suspicious.”

“Indeed.” I nod quickly. The tone of his voice is making me nervous.

“I’m so glad you agree.”

A yelp leaves my lips as DeVille seizes my waist. In an instantaneous move, our chests slam together as he brings us into contact nearly from head to toe.

Satan’s palm on the small of my back sends waves of heat racing across my skin, spreading the warmth to every cell of my being.

He cups the back of my head with his other hand, and my nerve endings light up as if scorched.

His strong fingers tunnel through my hair while he tilts me back.

Feeling precariously off-balance, I grab his shoulders for support. “What are you doing?” I choke out, caught in the depths of his sexy, dark eyes as his mouth lingers a mere inch above mine.

“Making sure your brother has no doubts,” he growls and captures my lips.

His mouth claims mine, and everything within me turns into molten lava.

The drag of his fingertips over my scalp sends waves of heat racing down my spine.

His scent leaves me spiraling, burning up with need.

To hold him close. Closer. Feel the press of his hard chest against my aching breasts.

To stay trapped in his searing clutches, while DeVille sets everything around me on fire.

I feel him. His essence. Radiating through my body and mind until he’s everywhere. In every molecule. Spreading. Like a disease. And it feels so damn good to be infected, consumed by the destruction that devastating mouth of his brings.

Loud cheers and laughter explode all around us, breaking the spell. Pulling me out of the abyss. My eyes snap open, only to be confronted with a smoldering gaze. He might have freed my lips, but his dark depths continue to hold me captive.

A light breeze blows across my heated features, whipping my hair across my face. I swallow and quickly untangle my arms from around his neck.

“You’ve made your point…, DeVille.”

“I agree.” He nods and straightens up, but his arm stays tightly wrapped around my waist. “Don’t you think we should be on a first-name basis at this point?”

Breath catches in my lungs. I did almost use his name, but managed to stop myself in time.

“Nope.” I step away, shaking off his hold. “I have work to do. See ya later.”

His eyes follow me as I rush toward the house. Fleeing but feeling the weight of his burning gaze with every step.

After that kiss, I’m too weak to face the issue of his name. Too damaged to resist the temptation. Too frayed to admit the truth. How long has it been since he noticed? How long has he waited to confront me on this? I’ve been very careful. Never call him by his given name. Not even in my thoughts.

I have my reasons.

But at the moment, I’m not willing to risk my fate and let the devil win.

“Wow! That’s a lot of people, Mr. DeVille. Looks fun, though.”

“Debatable.” I toss my bundled-up shirt, reeking of smoke and barbecued meat, onto the passenger seat next to Riggo. “Take this to get dry-cleaned right away. The suit, too.”

“Sure thing. In case they ask, what happened to it? Did you spill wine or—”

“I spent two fucking hours roasting a fucking pig. That’s what happened.” I slide my arms into the fresh shirt Riggo brought me and start buttoning it up.