Page 30 of Precious Hazard (Perfectly Imperfect #11)

“God forbid. Any other room that’s large enough to fit all my stuff, and is also as far as possible from your lair, will do. Please and thank you.”

A smirk tugs at my lips. Not like I ever intended to allow her the use of Sienna’s room. “As you wish.”

Tara’s eyes turn into slits as she stares at me with suspicion. But then, she raises her chin and heads to the front door.

Nope, that’s not happening. Catching up, I quickly scoop her into my arms.

“Hey!”

“Appearances, gattina . It’s tradition for the groom to carry his bride over the threshold.”

“No one from your precious Family is around, so there’s no need for this pretense. Put me down.”

“My housekeeper is here, and she loves to gossip. Bailing on our wedding reception is as far as I’m willing to bend traditions for you. And I’ve only done it because you had a panic attack and nearly passed out at the altar.”

“I did not have a panic attack! And I don’t faint. You must have confused me with one of your delicate Italian girls.”

“I’d never make a mistake like that. You’re about as different as could be from an Italian woman.” I let her feet touch the ground and nod at my wide-eyed housekeeper, who’s watching us from the foot of the stairs. “Greta will show you the way. Your things will be brought up shortly.”

“Great.” Tara tries to shake my hand off her hip. “Do you mind?”

“I think you forgot something.” I pull her closer. “Plenty of witnesses with all the moving guys around and Greta here. I’m sure they expect the newlyweds to engage in romantic displays of affection. A kiss would assure them that everything is as it should be.”

“I can’t stand you. The three previous incidents of kissing you in front of our families for the sake of appearances were dreadful enough. I have no interest in repeating the experience. Like, ever. So what would make you think I’d kiss you for the sake of your hired staff?”

“My feelings for you are not that different, Tara. Having my mouth on yours is like letting myself be burned alive. But personal sacrifices must be made for the greater good.” I haul her flush with my chest. “Make sure it looks genuine.”

Tara’s lips break into a sugary smile. She takes my face between her palms and lightly brushes my lips with hers. “Certainly. Let me show you how much I love being your wife, darling .”

Absolute bliss. That’s what it feels like to have her mouth on mine again. Her scent… her softness… the sweet, sweet— PAIN!

“Oops.” The little hellcat smiles innocently as she licks a drop of my blood off her bottom lip. “Apologies, darling. Got a bit carried away. But you insisted I show you the depth of my feelings.”

My nostrils flare. Fury explodes inside my chest, but it has nothing to do with her stunt.

I’m furious with myself, with my body’s and my mind’s reactions.

Because each time we kiss, I feel like I’m plugged directly into a raw power source that makes my heart race and every neuron I have catch fire.

Every one of my senses heightens the moment we touch.

She does that to me. Only her. Wakes me up from whatever zombieland I’ve been trapped in.

I never even realized I was drowning in that hell.

And now, I’m pissed beyond measure that she’s the one who has this effect on me.

“Greta is waiting,” I grind out through my teeth. “You should go. Start unpacking.”

She marches past me without another word, her head high, and climbs the stairs to the upper level. Poor, confused Greta trots in Tara’s wake.

As soon as Tara disappears from sight, I audibly exhale, allowing myself to relax finally.

Releasing the tension in my muscles doesn’t help relieve the pressure in my cock, though.

I’ve been as hard as rock for over an hour.

Since the moment my mouth connected with hers.

I’m glad that, for once, she actually listened.

If she hadn’t and stayed, my hands and my mouth would have been all over her body, and then I’d have thrown her down and fucked her through the floor right here.

“The truffle bruschetta is amazing. You’re really missing out,” Sienna mumbles into the phone, her mouth obviously full of the delectable appetizer. “And the wine! Sweet and crisp all at once, and it hits the taste buds just right. Works great with the pork ribs, too.”

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself.” I let myself fall face-first onto the big four-poster bed.

“I sure am. The two of you caused quite a stir, disappearing like that. But I guess it’s not that surprising, after that kiss and all. It’s all anyone’s been talking about. I heard someone mention that you must have been in a hurry to… consummate the marriage.” She giggles.

“Yeah, sure. Has Drago said anything?”

“Nope. Nothing at all.”

I furrow my brow. That doesn’t sound like my brother. Even if he bought the farce of me marrying DeVille for love, I expected him to do… something .

“Maybe you convinced him that you’re in love. I mean, that kiss looked fucking real to me. The two of you practically tried to devour each other. It was hotter than hell. Are you sure you don’t like Arturo?”

Closing my eyes, I let my mind drift back to the altar.

A tremor runs down my spine as I recall my husband’s strong arms around me.

Being crushed to his hard chest while he ravaged my mouth before hundreds of astounded eyes.

That fucking kiss! It was… it was everything, least of all a rescue from my panic attack.

It’s been a long time since full-blown anxiety overwhelmed me in public.

Last time, I had to hide somewhere out of sight.

Wait it out alone until it finally passed, an hour later.

But today… Well, I never would have imagined emerging from my tailspin so fast. And all because of how that devil kissed me.

It must have been the shock. My reaction.

Just out of shock. I probably would have acted the same had he slapped me.

“Trust me, I’m sure.” I flip over and stare at the ceiling. “Anything else interesting happening at my wedding reception?”

“Well… The don and his wife also disappeared shortly after the ceremony. Honestly, I was surprised they showed up at all, considering their baby girl is barely a year old. I still find it hard to wrap my mind around the idea that Ajello has a child. Oh! There’s grilled salmon here! You guys really should have stayed.”

“Yeah, no thanks. If I had to spend even a minute longer with your brother, I would have gone postal.”

“It can’t be that bad. Maybe he’ll grow on you? I mean, Drago and I didn’t know each other at all when we got married, and look at us now.”

True. But everyone could tell right away that my brother fell crazy in love with Sienna the moment he set his eyes on her. He was a total goner who wouldn’t let other men so much as look at her, never mind touch her. To this day, he worships the ground she walks on.

“Drago and Arturo are nothing alike, Sienna,” I croak.

“I know, but—”

“Listen, I’m dead tired and I have a bunch of boxes to unpack. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Bye.”

I hang up and pull the extra pillow over my face.

Maybe I would’ve had the kind of love Sienna and Drago have, too, if I’d actually tried making it work in one of my previous relationships.

Maybe I could’ve had a man ready to step in front of a bullet for me, just as my brother did for his wife.

But I don’t. Instead, I’m stuck with an arrogant asshole with a short fuse, who would rather throw me to the wolves than save me.

As I’m wallowing in my misery, a whisper-quiet knock sounds at my door.

“Mrs. DeVille, it’s Greta,” a chirpy voice calls out. “The movers have all your things organized. May we bring them inside?”

“Sure. Just a sec.”

I drag myself out of bed and shuffle to open the oak double doors. Four guys in matching blue denim work shirts saunter in, all huffing as they carry large cardboard boxes.

“Just stack them there, in front of the fireplace.” I motion toward the left side of the room.

“Perhaps you’d like to have them on the other side, by the window, Mrs. DeVille, in case it gets chilly? You might want to light a fire,” suggests one of the movers.

I shudder at the thought. I’d rather freeze to death than go anywhere near a flame. “By the fireplace is fine, thanks.”

As the guys transfer all of my belongings, I take a quick tour of my new bedroom.

It’s more of a spacious studio with two distinct living areas.

On one side, there’s an open sitting nook nestled into a circular bay created by tall French windows.

The other end is dominated by a king-size bed.

Separating the two is a floor-to-ceiling, fully rotatable, wooden slat partition that allows for either an open, see-through concept or additional privacy when the slats are shut.

The overall design is modern, but it feels warm and inviting, not barren like many such places are.

It also looks like no one has ever occupied the room before.

The peach carpet under my feet must be the plushest, thickest in existence.

It feels like it’s made from the softest wool imaginable.

I revel in the sensation as I cross to the glass wall that faces the front yard.

Even at this time of year, the grounds are pretty, and I can picture myself curled up with a book in the shade of a massive birch tree.

My tranquil moment, however, is broken by the rumble of an engine coming to life outside.

I pull back one side of the buttery smooth white satin drapes just in time to see my husband rushing down the front steps toward his usual swanky stretched BMW.

He’s putting on his suit jacket while speaking on his phone.

Must be in a helluva hurry. As he reaches the car’s back door, he pauses and throws a look over his shoulder. Gazing directly up at me.

I drop the curtain like it’s bitten me, letting it fall back into place. When I brave a peek out a minute later, both the vehicle and Arturo are gone.

“Mr. DeVille has been called away on an urgent matter,” Greta says as she sets my pot of peace lilies on the coffee table. “He mentioned that he likely won’t be back before morning.”

“As if I care,” I say, though not loud enough for her to actually hear me.

My dear husband obviously couldn’t bother to take even his wedding day off.

It’s not that I want him here with me or anything, but it proves that he lives and breathes for his precious Cosa Nostra.

The man just dumped me at his house with barely a word.

Couldn’t even show me around himself. And I’m just supposed to live here?

Whatever.

“Okay, I think that’s everything.” Greta nods toward the mountain of boxes. “Would you like help unpacking, Mrs. DeVille?”

“I think I’ll leave it for tomorrow. Thanks.”

“Can I get you something to eat?”

“No, thank you.” My stomach is feeling so tight, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat again.

“Okay. If you change your mind, there are a few things in the fridge.”

I wait until she walks out, then rifle around in one of the boxes labeled Books. It takes a bit of effort before I can finally pull out my favorite romantasy. It might be my wedding night, but it seems that I’ll be spending it in a nice, warm bath.

Pathetic. But nothing new.