Page 43 of Precious Hazard (Perfectly Imperfect #11)

“You bought a helicopter?” Sienna’s screech echoes through the dining room.

“Yup.” I dig my fork into the Tupperware container and stuff another bite of delicious pork chop into my mouth. “Your brother insisted that I get something that would make a statement.”

“Uh-huh. But a helicopter?”

“Can’t make a grander entrance than arriving in a— Ouch!” I jerk away and snatch the brush out of her hand. “Could you please be more gentle? I’d like to have some hair left after all of this.”

“Well, that hairstyle requires volume with a capital V.” She points to the image on my phone that I have propped up against the water bottle, then snatches the brush back and continues to tease the strands at the top of my head.

“What did Arturo say about the chopper? I’m betting he lost his shit, right? ”

I lick the fork clean, then dive into another bowl and scoop up some rice. “Well, that’s the thing. He didn’t.”

I woke up in my husband’s bed this morning. Thankfully, its rightful occupant was long gone. The cool sheets told me he had been for hours. It took my muddled brain nearly a minute to remember how I ended up in DeVille’s room, in his bed, in the first place.

My initial thought was that we had sex. All things considered, that might have been the lesser evil.

If I could choose, I would pick getting dirty with Satan DeVille over having him witness my meltdown.

And if that wasn’t enough, I’m pretty sure I spent the remainder of the night sleeping on top of him.

The feel of his arms wrapped around me lingers even now like a ghostly caress.

If I had woken up still tangled in his embrace, I would have been mortified and ready to kill myself.

“I was already asleep when he got home last night, and he was gone well before I woke up this morning. So, we haven’t talked about it yet.

” I shrug, deciding I neither want to discuss with Sienna nor ponder on my own, the events that happened in between.

“He just texted me a bunch of links to various regulations, and to the training and certification programs. Then, the contact info for his insurance agent. And finally, the name of a guy who’s apparently a pilot and already works for him. Not at all the reaction I expected.”

“That’s strange. Maybe Arturo is just in shock. But, girl, what in the hell are you going to do with a helicopter?”

“No idea,” I mumble through another forkful of pork chop.

“Especially now, with a team of bodyguards trailing me wherever I go.” As I talk with my mouth full of delicious food, I feel like a total pig, but don’t care.

I was fucking starving when I showed up at Drago’s today.

“God, I miss Keva’s cooking. Do you think there are more leftovers in the fridge that I can take home with me? ”

“Um… sure. You know there are usually tons. But are you sure you’re going to have room for them at your place? How do you like Arturo’s cooking, anyway? Pass me the hairpin.”

“Haven’t tried it. It’s a statement. I won’t eat anything he makes,” I say, handing her a tiny U-shaped wire. The words have barely left my mouth before I flinch as the metallic ends dig into my skull. “Christ, Sienna.”

“Okay, fair. But I’m not used to playing hairdresser in the dining room. Let’s go upstairs. The lighting is so much better there.”

“We can’t! We’re spilling tea, and the unwritten Serbian rule is that all gossiping happens in the dining room.”

“ Whyyyy ?”

“I don’t know. It just is.” I shrug right when Sienna pulls on another strand of my hair so hard that it feels as if she’ll yank it out. Ouch!

“You know, I really hoped this animosity between you and Arturo would fade.”

“Not happening anytime soon,” I bite out. My tone is hard, but deep inside, I feel my resolve wavering a bit. Arturo didn’t push me to explain my behavior last night. Neither did he call me a hysterical basket case, which I kind of figured he would. He just… held me. And it felt so damn good.

“You might change your mind if you give his lamb stew a try. What are you eating anyway? Just getting delivery?” Sienna asks while plunging more pins into the massive bun at the crown of my head. “I know Greta is a terrible cook. She might be even worse than you.”

“I was doing a bit of both, ordering in and putting up with a few of her meals. Until this morning, that is. Apparently, your brother banned all food deliveries to the house, and he gave Greta a direct order not to cook for me anymore. I think he’s making his own statement.

I can either eat what he makes or starve.

” Taking a deep breath, I continue, “I see a lot of sandwiches, cereal, and instant ramen in my life over the next year. Just think—one week down, another fifty-one to go. Yay, me.”

“Oh, for the love of God! You two are unbelievable.” She shakes her head. “But… why don’t you just—”

“Make something for myself?” I raise an eyebrow. “Sienna… Gas stove. Remember?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh ,” I sigh. “I get chills down my spine whenever I look at that thing.” After last night, I think I might just stay away from the kitchen altogether. At least for the foreseeable future.

“I’ll explain it to Arturo. He’ll have it exchanged for an electric range.”

“You won’t say a word to him. This is my personal shit, and I don’t want it broadcast to everyone. Especially your brother.” No more than I already have.

“Tara—”

“Are we about done?” I interrupt.

“Yeah, all finished. Just need to add hair spray. Close your eyes.”

“Don’t forget the feathers,” I say as the fine mist rains down on me from every direction. Sienna seems determined to use up an entire bottle on my head.

“Okay, but don’t lose them.” My skull gets pricked again when she sticks a peacock feather into the mass of my locks. “These are my favorite.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Once Sienna steps away, I pick up the handheld mirror off the table, lifting it in front of my face. She’s done an amazing job. My hair looks nearly identical to the image I showed her as a reference. “Outstanding. Do you think it’ll stay put all night?”

“Absolutely. Where the heck are you going, a masquerade or something?” she chirps, adjusting one of the ringlets behind my ear. “I had no idea Arturo would be into something like that.”

I smile.

I cross my arms over my chest, watching my sisters fidget in their seats on the other side of the table. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

“Hear what?” Sienna chirps.

“This oh-so-urgent matter that needed to be discussed. In person. Right away. And couldn’t wait a moment longer.”

“Can’t we just want to have coffee with our dear brother because we miss him?”

“It’s the second Saturday of the month. Which means that your favorite shoe store is having a half-off sale that starts”—I glance at my watch—“right about now. I don’t see you skipping it in favor of coffee with me.”

“I love you more than I love pretty, discounted shoes!”

“Uh-huh. And Asya, you just decided on an impromptu trip to New York just so you can join us for an overpriced drink?”

“The pakhan’s private plane is always on standby, and Pasha and I liked the idea of a quick trip. This deli has the best pastrami on rye sandwiches,” Asya mutters.

“Mm-hmm.” I set my palms on the table and lean over. “Are you pregnant, Asya?”

“What? No.”

My gaze slides to Sienna. “Are you pregnant?”

“I’m not. And stop this nonsense. We just wanted to have a tiny little chat with you.”

“So, there is a hidden agenda after all. What is this? An intervention?”

“Maybe.” Her grin is perfectly innocent.

“Right. I’m all ears.”

They look at each other. Then, Sienna nudges Asya with her elbow, nodding in my direction. Asya shakes her head, nudging back.

“Okay, Okay. I’ll say it.” Sienna mimics my earlier pose and crosses her arms over her chest. “We’re concerned about you, Arturo.”

I snort. “What about me that troubles you so much?”

“Your wife,” Asya deadpans.

“Excuse me?”

“We both like Tara. A lot. But the way you’ve treated her sounds like the absolute pits. Sienna’s been keeping me in the loop, and I gotta tell you… I’m completely shocked. Did you really make Tara sign a prenup with a bunch of rules about how she’s allowed to dress and act?”

My head snaps to Sienna. “So, Tara told you the truth, I take it?”

“Yes. Every terrible bit. Including you threatening to frame her for murder. I have to say, I’m appalled, Arturo.”

“Appalled.” Asya nods at the same time. “You’re lucky she hasn’t told Drago. I mentioned to her that she should. I’m so disappointed in you, big brother.”

“My marriage is none of your business,” I bark. “Or yours, Sienna.”

“Since you’re doing your utmost to sabotage your happiness, I’d say it is,” Sienna throws in.

“Happiness? I didn’t choose Tara for my bride. I was ordered to marry her. If she were the last woman on earth, I wouldn’t have picked her.”

“Right,” she continues. “Because she isn’t Italian. Doesn’t give a crap about our social traditions. Isn’t afraid to challenge you or say what she really thinks. She’s basically the polar opposite of the ideal wife you created in your head.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“Yup. Must be a real bitch to have fallen for your unwanted wife, then.”

“That’s the craziest crap I’ve heard in quite a while,” I chuckle.

“Is it?”

“Listen, sis. I understand that you have these cute delusions about how the world revolves around love and all that mushy shit. I blame those books you like to read for that nonsense. But life isn’t a romance novel, Sienna.

And certainly not the life I’ve chosen to lead.

It’s tough, and daunting, and the only way to get through it is by following reason, not flights of fancy. ”

“So, having feelings for Tara is unreasonable?”

“Exactly. I won’t lie and say that I’m not attracted to her in some bewildering way. She is a very beautiful woman after all. But that’s just basic chemistry. There’s nothing else to it.”

Sienna leans toward her twin. “Told you. He slept with her.”

“I haven’t.”

“But you want to!”

“Yes, I do. That doesn’t mean I’m in love with her.

” I take a sip of the coffee our waiter delivered.

“She has made my life complete hell, Sienna. Tara is entirely unpredictable. And she’s got a real talent for pissing me off.

The woman gets under my skin like no other.

How could I ever be interested in someone like that for more than a good fuck? ”

“Mm-hmm,” Sienna smirks, then tilts her head toward Asya again. “That’s why he made her sign that stupid-ass prenup.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “I made her sign that prenup to protect my interests and to make sure she doesn’t make a fool of me, especially in public.”

“Oh, please. Your ego is the size of a small planet. As if your wife’s choice of clothes or little theatrics could ever come close to hurting it.”

“Okay, since you’re such a psychoanalyst, why don’t you explain my real motivations, then?”

“It’s simple.” She shrugs. “You’ve liked her from the very beginning, theatrics and all.

That made her an anomaly that’s threatened to crush your carefully constructed idea of how things should be.

Which would equate to failure in your book.

So your solution was to neutralize those exact traits that attracted you to her in the first place by making her act like everyone else.

Because God forbid you actually develop any sort of deep feelings toward your wife and not just have her around to fulfill a social role. ”

“Didn’t you hear me? I don’t have any feelings for Tara, damn it! She’s rude. Half-wild. Bullheaded. And she doesn’t give a fuck—”

“About you.” My sister smiles. “Yeah. That’s got to be a bummer. Unrequited love is the worst. No wonder you’re going out of your mind.”

I rake my hands through my hair and pull at the roots, glaring blankly at the table before me. “She demanded a million dollars for every month she’s married to me.”

“Arturo, you threatened to frame her for murder,” Asya says softly.

“Indeed,” Sienna adds. “If I were her, I would’ve insisted on at least double of that! You would have deserved it just for being an asshole to her.”

“In that case, she should have asked for triple.” This is from my gentle-souled Asya.

I stare at both of my sisters. “Shouldn’t you two be on my side?”

“Not this time,” they say in unison.

“Great,” I sigh.

“Talk to her.” Asya takes over now. “Stop being a jerk and admit you like her.”

“There’s nothing for us to talk about.” I throw back what’s left of my coffee and rise. “Sorry to cut this get-together short, but I need to head home to change for the gala tonight.”

“Be careful, brother,” Asya says in that soft way of hers. “Or it might be too late.”

I reach for my wallet. “Too late for what?”

“For you to come to your senses. There are many prominent men out there, and one might end up snatching Tara away from you.”

“Yeah? Well, good riddance.”