Page 67 of Precious Hazard (Perfectly Imperfect #11)

He shakes his head and kisses the top of my head. “I’m still beating the shit of that asshole.”

“You won’t lay a finger on my husband. I love him, Drago.”

“Don’t you think it’s about time to cut this crap?

” he growls. “I know Ajello was behind this sham of a marriage. The bastard told me so himself. He came to see me a couple of weeks before your wedding, spitting out crazy ideas about setting up DeVille and you together so you’d fall in love.

Christ! I’ll never forgive myself for going along with his nonsense instead of—”

“Instead of fixing my problem for me?” I interrupt him. “By probably ripping the heads off both Ajello and Arturo, right?”

“Gutting them is what I had in mind, but cutting their fucking heads off would’ve worked, too.”

A long and heavy sigh escapes me. I don’t need to ask if he’s being serious because I know he is.

“The reasons that brought Arturo and me together don’t matter.

None of them change things. I love him. And he loves me.

” A pang hits my chest as I say this. Arturo hasn’t actually said that he loves me.

And I know actions speak louder than words, but still…

“So I’d appreciate it if you’d leave my husband’s head where it is. Thanks.”

“You deserve a man who would cherish and protect you, Tara. Who will love you so much that he’d—”

“He’d charge into a burning building and risk his own life by carrying me out through a wall of flames?” I ask. “Just as you had done for me? Is that what you were about to say?”

“Yes! That’s exactly what—” He cuts off mid-sentence and looks away. “Fuck. I hate that motherfucker.”

I can’t help but laugh, even though it makes me ache from pulling on my stitches. “This isn’t a competition, Drago.”

“Right.”

“And if you two would set aside this stupid pissing contest between you, maybe you’d both realize how much alike you are.”

He gives me a look filled with incredulity and utter disgust. “God forbid. And for the record, I don’t buy it one bit that you’re truly in love with DeVille.”

“Hmm… Well, maybe I should ask Mirko to set up a camera in my and Arturo’s bedroom?

One with a live feed to your laptop? You know, so you could see for yourself how much we love each other.

Then maybe you’d be convinced?” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep the grin from breaking across my face.

“Of course, one camera may not be enough. I’ll have to have him add another in the bathroom.

And the entry hall. The kitchen, definitely.

Oh, the stairwell, too! We also quite often—”

“For fuck’s sake, stop! Seeing that dickhead groping my sister in the middle of the driveway was enough. I really don’t need to know every location where the two of you do the nasty. Jesus!”

“Sex, Drago. S. E. X. The same thing you can’t get enough of with your wife. And if you don’t want to know more about my sex life, I suggest you have Mirko kill the connection to our security systems. And for your record, that was a shitty move, big brother.”

“I’ll think about it,” he grumbles.

“Alright. I’ll just tell Arturo that from now on, all of our fun carnal times are happening on the front porch. He’ll love it. All that fresh air will bring out the wild man in him.”

“You wouldn’t.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Fine.” He grits his teeth. “Where is the pretty boy, anyway?”

“Ilaria dragged him away to give him a checkup and get some follow-up blood work done. She had to threaten to restrict all visitor access to me if he didn’t obey her medical orders.”

“What the hell does he need a checkup for? Making sure every strand of his hair is still in place?”

“Ha! Funny, but no. Considering he almost suffered a hypovolemic shock by donating all that blood for my transfusion, she needed to make sure he’s alright, and that his pigheadedness didn’t cause him complications.”

Drago blinks at me as if my words left him mildly stunned, but that surprised expression on his face quickly morphs into irritation. “I’m your brother. They should have called me to do blood donation.”

“Oh, for the love of God.” I look toward the heavens and sigh. “Get lost, Drago. And send Keva in.”

He kisses my cheek and rises to leave, just as a thought occurs to me. I bite my bottom lip.

“Hey.” I grab his forearm. “Do you think Dina would have liked Arturo?”

A serene smile pulls at his lips. “Yeah. I think she would have. Unfortunately.”

He crosses the room to the door, but before pulling it open, he turns abruptly. His eyes—worried yet resigned—sweep over me. What is he thinking? About Dina? Our past? Regretting the choices we both made?

“You really love that asshole?”

“I do. I really, really do.”

***

The nightstand lamp beside my hospital bed casts soft light on the stack of papers in my hand, making the pristine white slightly yellowish. Sickly. Diseased. My mind can’t quite comprehend the text before my eyes, so I stare at it a little harder. Trying to… understand.

How could I have been so wrong? Was I really that dopey from the meds that I completely misunderstood Arturo’s words? My gaze slides to the bottom of the page. Below the bold section heading. The date. Our names. Focusing on the two lines. The upper one already holds my husband’s neat signature.

I can’t live through that a second time .

I thought that was him confessing that he loves me.

Obviously, I was mistaken.

That realization slams into my chest like a sledgehammer, and the pain is a thousand times greater than the actual physical discomfort after my surgery.

It’s agony, but infinitely more.

Not wanting him to see the effect this is having on me, I sink my teeth into my lower lip to stop it from trembling. Then, I look up, meeting Arturo’s piercing stare.

“You want a fucking divorce, DeVille?”

“Yes.”

His instant response feels like a finishing blow, absolutely annihilating me .

There’s no hiding the shaking of my fingers as I slip free the pen clipped to the top edge of the file folder and set the ballpoint on the blank line.

The ink flows blue across the page, but my vision blurs, distorts, and morphs what I’m seeing into red.

In my mind, I’m signing another deal with the devil. This time, with my blood.

“There.” I close the flap of the folder over the document and keep my attention fixed on the wretched thing. I will not let him see me cry . “What about my money? We agreed on a million for each month of our marriage.”

“We did. And since I’m breaking the term, all twelve million was deposited into your account an hour ago.”

I swallow. Barely. “Perfect. And Ajello?”

“I’ll handle the don.”

He’ll handle the don. Great. “I’m keeping the rings.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. In fact, I insist that you do.”

Bastard. I’m going to have them melted, just for that. “Well, I wish I could say it’s been nice doing business with you, DeVille, but…”

“Likewise.”

His voice rings with amusement. The jackass is having fun. Of course he is. First, he wrecked my life. Now, my heart. But sure, glad I’ve been able to entertain him. God, why can’t he just get the hell out of here so I can break down in peace? Is that too much to ask? Is it?

My eyes stay glued to the folder, but I finally catch a slight movement in my peripheral vision. Except… He’s not leaving. What… what is he—?

Snapping my head up, all I can do is gape at Arturo with stunned, wide-eyed amazement.

He’s down on one knee right beside my bed.

He’s wearing one of his fancy suits after, apparently, showering and changing while I slept, and he’s kneeling on the hospital floor like he couldn’t care less about that.

“What are you doing?”

“Patience, gattina, ” he says, reaching into the pocket of his pants.

I’m just about ready to tell him to get lost when he clears his throat. His eyes capture mine, and there isn’t a shred of mirth in them. He actually looks kind of—

“I fucked up,” he blurts, running a hand through his hair like he’s nervous.

“Big time. Made a mess of everything because I was stupid. And stubborn. And because I was afraid.” His voice cracks a little on the last word.

“You told me once that you always screw things up, but that’s not true.

Drilling holes in the drywall or taking apart the coffee machine with a butter knife, that’s not messing things up, baby.

It’s just you being you. You’re independent and resourceful.

Some things might not go your way, but you don’t shy away from a challenge.

You don’t give up, and I love that about you.

I love everything you do. Even when it involves bizarre hair antics.

I get a kick out of seeing what insane idea you’ll come up with next, and I want to keep experiencing that for the rest of my life. ”

He falls silent, but I have a feeling he’s not done.

His eyes keep bouncing between mine like he’s soundlessly trying to tell me something.

Imploring me to understand his every word.

It’s as if he’s taking a deep breath before a plunge.

Getting ready to light a match in a room filled with hydrogen instead of air.

And I’m left gasping, struggling to breathe.

Waiting for the spark that will blow my world apart with his next exhale. His next sentence.

“I love you, gattina .”

B

O

O

M

“Tara, for over a decade, aside from my sisters, the Cosa Nostra Family was the most important thing in my life. But then you thundered into it like a beautiful storm. My precious hazard. And I realized that you eclipsed everything. The Family—if I had to make a choice, I would have betrayed them for you. My life—I would have given it to save yours in a nanosecond. I would give up everything for you, baby, everything. And that thought scared the living shit out of me. Having that kind of weakness, it was simply incomprehensible. But that’s what you became. My Achilles’ heel.

“And so, I lashed out. Tried to push you away when all I really wanted was to hold you in my arms, keep you safe, and never let you go. Because I love you. Desperately.” He sucks in a sharp intake of air and pulls a ring from his pocket, lifting it in front of my face.

“I’m so sorry, Tara darling. Will you marry me? ”

I gasp. Astonishment, anger, and dizzying happiness surge inside me, battling for supremacy while I continue to gape at the beautiful gold ring with another dazzling emerald at the center, even more beautiful than the one in my current ring.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I finally manage to spit out. “You just served me with divorce papers!”

“I want to make it right, gattina . Want every step of our life together to be real. One day, our kids should hear the story of how their daddy proposed to their mommy while kneeling before her. Not that he was an asshole and blackmailed the love of his life into marrying him,” he smirks.

“But how can I ask you to marry me if we’re already married?

Please, Tara. Do me the honor of becoming my wife. ”

I grab the folder with our divorce papers, swinging and hitting him upside his head.

“Is that a yes ?” He smiles sheepishly and squints his eyes.

“I’ve been going through hell, thinking I’ve fallen in love with a jerk who doesn’t give the slightest fuck about me!” I bark. “No, Arturo. It’s definitely not a yes.”

That mischievous smirk morphs into a frown as confusion takes over his face. Springing to his feet, he leans in until he’s eye level with me.

“What?”

It’s my turn to smile. Fisting the lapel of his jacket, I pull him down for a breath-stealing kiss.

“If you thought I’d make this easy for you, you’re oh so very wrong, darling.” I smile against his mouth. “You’ll have to earn that yes, this time.” I graze his lower lip with my teeth. “The ring is pretty, though. I’ll take it.”