Page 26 of Precious Hazard

“It’s amazing that you’re not charmed by him like all the other women in the house seem to be. They constantly gush about what a gentleman he is for sending me flowers every day.”

“Ha! He sent you white lilies last night. Those are funeral flowers. And the day before yesterday… yellow hyacinths. Those symbolize jealousy. Agentlemanshould know these things. And just don’t get me started on the hundred roses! Couldn’t have added one more, could he? Shame on him!”

“Well, he’ll be here shortly to pick me up, so I’ll encourage him to do some thorough research on the meaning of flowers in Balkan cultures so he’s more informed in the future,” I laugh.

This morning, I woke up to a text from an unknown number. All it said was:1 p.m. Be ready.It wasn’t signed. The jerk probably thinks everyone on the planet should be able to recognize his royal decree; no need for him to actually identify himself. He didn’t even bother asking if, perhaps, I had other plans today. Oh no,His Assholenessjust assumed I’m sitting around waiting for his summons so I can jump and do his bidding.

“What the hell are you doing with that man, anyway?” Keva continues, stirring the stew with enough force to whip it into a pudding. “Are you actually dating him or is this a new way you’re trying to piss off Drago? Because it’s working.”

I bite my lower lip. I’m so damn tempted to confess. To tell Keva that Arturo DeVille is threatening to pin a murder on me—a murder he committed!—unless I go along with this sham of a relationship and become his wife. I know if I told her the truth, Keva would hug me, pet my head, and let me cry on her shoulder. But then, she’d march straight to Drago and tell him everything!

Ugh! That would be a disaster. I can easily picture how it would unfold from there. My brother would be livid and would try to kill DeVille. But if he somehow managed to keep hiswits about him, remembering that Satan happens to be Sienna’s brother, Drago would then set his sights on Ajello.

And then he would end up dead!

No. I can’t risk it. I won’t allow Drago to get hurt again because of me. He carries enough scars on his body as a daily reminder that he nearly died in the fire he saved me from.

Never again.

“Drago doesn’t get to tell me who I should date.” I lift my chin, hoping to convince her. “And I don’t need him to sign off on my boyfriend. It’s my life.”

“He’s just worried about you.”

Yup. Everyone is always worried about me. It’s as if I’m incapable of living independently, or something. Someone constantly needs to hold my hand so I don’t screw up while putting on my “big girl pants.”

Jesus fuck. Drago’s “the world is a dangerous place and I have many enemies” rant is still ringing in my head from when he forced me to move back into the mansion. Never mind that I can shoot a fucking gun better than some of his men. In truth, it’s one of the very few things I’m actually good at. But my brother still thinks I can’t take care of myself.

“Well, he shouldn’t be worried. I’m fine. In fact, I’m feeling pretty damn amazing.” I drop the last of the peeled potatoes into the bowl and storm out of the kitchen.

Somebody calls after me as I run across the entry hall, but I ignore them. I need some fresh air before I lose my goddamned mind. Flinging the front door open, I barrel outside, only to immediately smash face-first into a cluster of soft, red petals. The honeyed, floral scent of roses invades my senses.

“What the—” I push off with my hands, trying to repel the flowery onslaught on my nose, sneezing in the process.

“I should have expected this,” an irritatingly sexy voice comments from directly above my head. “You can’t even accept flowers normally.”

Shoving the blasted bouquet away, I glare at the uninvited guest. The midday sun brings out a bluish tinge in his slightly wavy black hair. He wears it softly swept away from his face, giving it a somewhat mussed look. The gray three-piece suit fits him like a glove, same as every other outfit I’ve seen him in. It really is a shame that a drop-dead gorgeous guy like him is such an asshole. So much wasted potential.

“It’s not even noon,” I grumble. “What are you doing here?”

“Courting you. Isn’t that obvious?”

“Courting? Are you a Regency-era escapee or something?”

Arturo’s eyes darken. “Trust me, I’m not enjoying this any more than you. I’m putting in an effort for the sake of appearances. And so should you. Take the roses.”

He tries to hand me the flowers, but I shove them back. “Can’t. I’m out of burial spots. You keep them.”

“Tara?” My brother’s voice booms behind me. “What’s going on?”

Damn it.

Swapping the scowl on my face for a beaming smile, I swipe the bouquet out of DeVille’s hands and crush it to my chest like it means the world to me.

“Look at these lovely roses!” My voice might as well be coated in sugar crystals. Knowing that Drago won’t likely hear me clearly, I spin around so he can read my lips. “Isn’t my man simply wonderful for bringing me such beautiful flowers?”

“Mm-hmm.” Based on the look of disgust on my brother’s face as he glances at the roses, one would think they were entrails instead. But then, his attention shifts to his brother-in-law, and Drago’s glare turns chilled and stony. “And why is the pretty boy buying you flowers again?”

“It may come as a surprise to you,” Satan replies in a condescending tone, “but a man with manners does that when he picks up his girlfriend for their date.”

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