Page 108 of Precious Hazard

The phone case cracks in my hand from the force of my squeeze. “I refuse to feel anything for a man who is incapable of loving me back.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t work like that, girly. And for the record, Arturo is head over heels smitten with you.”

“Mm-hmm. He has a weird way of showing it. I can really feel his love when he makes it absolutely clear how I’m the total opposite of what he considers a perfect partner. For crying outloud, he made me sign a prenup with clauses detailing how I’m allowed to dress! Does that sound like something a man who’shead over heels smittenwould do, Sienna?”

“When it comes to Arturo, yes. It’s exactly what he would do,” she sighs. “I know it’s hard to understand, but that’s just how he’s wired. If the two of you would simply sit down and talk. Admit your feelings, then maybe—”

“I’m not confessing to that jerk that I’m in love with him!” My hand flies to my mouth, but it’s too late to hold back the words. “Um… I gotta go. Bye.”

Throwing the phone to the floor as if the fucking thing is poisonous, I scramble up and all but run out of the bathroom. Only to stop in my tracks, right there on the threshold.

My husband is sprawled face down on the bed, asleep with his right arm extended toward the empty space beside him. Next to him is the still-dented pillow I used when I lay motionless for nearly two hours, staring at nothing after we collapsed following our second round of hate fucking.

Hate fucking. Can I call it that anymore? Knowing I don’t hate him?

How long can I continue to lie to myself?

How long will I pretend to believe it?

When I agreed to this stupid, stupid marriage, I thought I’d put my life on hold for a year, max. In the meantime, my Prince Charming… my knight in shining armor… and our happily ever after would be out there somewhere, waiting for me. The moment when I finally found him would simply be delayed, nothing more. But I’m afraid that’s no longer true.

Whether I want it or not, I now know that I’ll forever compare every other man to Arturo DeVille. And I’m fairlycertain Satan wouldn’t hold a candle to any of them. How could they not be better with all of his many faults? His idiotic devotion to silly traditions, like we’re still in the nineteenth century, is truly ridiculous. It’s also kind of funny, though, and I love calling him out on it every time. But… although he might be half-stuck in the past, his dedication to his convictions is actually endearing. And I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t admit that there’s a place for chivalry in the modern world. I’d give him zero points for being gentlemanly, but I can’t. Even though he brought me “funeral” flowers. And Arturo never hesitated to lend me his jacket, despite probably knowing that I was only messing with him.

Then, there’s his grumpiness. When it comes to being moody, it’d be impossible to find anyone who scores higher on that scale than him. Still, even Arturo’s cantankerous disposition is kinda sweet. He acts bossy, like an unmitigated tyrant, yet he does things no other overlord would do. I mean, the guy forbade Greta to make food for me and dictated that I couldn’t even get delivery. But he keeps cooking all of my meals. Even knowing that I refuse to touch anything he prepares himself.

Still, he’s all too quick to remind me that he’s only with me because of his don’s decree. As if without that frequent statement, I’d get the silly idea that he might actually like me. There’s no need for him to go through all that effort; I’m completely clear on his feelings without him spelling them out for me. It’s obvious since he never misses a chance to point out what a disaster I am. Although I must admit, he does it with that rather irritating smirk on his handsome face. And there’s never any malice shining in his eyes, but something else… something different. It’s almost as if he finds my constant screwups… amusing? I also have to give it to him—he’s never brought up my shortcomings unless we’ve been alone.

And now, this latest. Arturo barged his way into an all-out firefight, killing who knows how many attackers, just to get to me. Who does that kind of shit? I mean, I know Drago would do it. He wouldn’t even hesitate. But anyone else? Especially for me? I never imagined anyone but my knight doing something like that. And Satan DeVille’s armor is certainly notthatshiny. He probably did it just to show off.

Whatever. It doesn’t change my feelings. Maybe I don’t hate him, but I… will deny anything more.

With my footfalls muted by the thick carpet, I cross to the bed and climb in. As soon as the mattress dips, Arturo stirs and throws his trunk-like arm over me, pulling me into his side. I let him. Actually, I snuggle closer until our bodies seem to fuse together, with my leg tangled with his and my cheek pressed to his shoulder.

Pure warm bliss.

Yup. A textbook example of a red flag. That’s who Arturo DeVille is.

The man who ruined the fantasy in my life. Because I know… I fucking know! Once our year together is up, once my search for that perfect prince resumes… every man… every other man in the world, I’ll somehow find lacking. There’s no one out there who compares to Arturo DeVille.

It’s dark. Perpetual midnight. No moon. No light of any kind.

Around me, a thunderous roaring. Whistling. Howling.

The wind.

I’m in the eye of a hurricane. Stuck inside a black abyss.

Far, far away, a drumbeat.

Heartbeat?

I know it’s my only hope of finding a way out.

That sound becomes my beacon. Beckoning to me through the nothingness, through the relentless frenzy that I can feel, but cannot see. I follow the beat. It’s important. It is everything to me.

I can’t lose it. So I run. I don’t know where I’m headed, but I need to get there before the drumming stops. Before that beat falls silent. I can’t lose it.

Air rushes past me. Cold. Bitter. Biting. Blowing me off my feet.

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