Page 44 of Precious Hazard

“Technically… yes. But—”

“You two are officially engaged now. It’ll be weird if he doesn’t come, won’t it?”

“Yes, but—”

“And Drago, along with everyone else, would most certainly get suspicious if your fiancé doesn’t show up.” She lifts the salad bowl, admiring the intricate garnish she created with parsley and cherry tomatoes. “So actually, this is a good thing.”

I furrow my forehead. Maybe it is. My brother’s behavior has been exceptionally strange lately. Ever since DeVille came by to ask for my hand in marriage, Drago hasn’t questioned our relationship at all. No acidic remarks. No threats directed at DeVille. He’s been acting as if everything is perfectly normal and even asked if I needed any help with wedding planning. Knowing the animosity Drago feels toward Sienna’s brother, I’m entirelydumbfounded by his actions. It’s like he’s done a complete about-face.

Oh my God! What if he found out the truth? Then this change of behavior would totally make sense! And it might mean— Shit! Drago believes strongly that “revenge is a dish best served cold.” What if he’s pretending to be okay with everything now, but is actually biding his time to take DeVille out when he’ll least expect it? During the wedding ceremony, perhaps?

“Sienna,” I choke out. “Have you told Drago… anything?”

“What?” She stills, briefly glancing at me. “Of course not.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise you, Tara,” she says, suddenly overly preoccupied with adjusting the placement of the cherry tomatoes. “I haven’t said anything to Drago”—her voice drops to just above a whisper—“that he didn’t already know.”

“What do you me—”

“Tara!” Keva yells from somewhere outside the kitchen. “Your Italian is here. Since he’s early, put him to work. The chairs won’t unload themselves, and Jovan needs help at the pits.”

“You better go,” Sienna says. “I’ll finish up here.”

As she practically pushes me out of the kitchen, I give her a leery look. “Okay, I’m going. But I’m fairly certain your brother won’t be interested in helping. God forbid he get a crease or a stain on his fancy suit.”

“Well, he got you into this marriage fiasco. Let him reap what he’s sown. That’s only fair, right?” she scoffs.

A grin breaks out across my face. She’s absolutely right. Why not take this opportunity to humble his arrogant ass.

***

“No.”

I give my fiancé my most sugary smile. “You’ll be a part of this family soon, darling. It’s very important for you to be involved.” I wrap my hands around DeVille’s upper arm and lean my head on his shoulder. “You wouldn’t want my brother to get suspicious and think something is wrong between us, would you?”

DeVille gives me a look that might just burn the ground under my feet to ash. The hard lines of his face and the dangerous glint in his eyes make him appear infinitely more menacing on this beautiful, bright, sunny day. And quite handsome.

He glances at the part of the backyard where five plump, whole pigs are skewered on spits above the fire pits. I struggle to hold my laughter at bay, even as nerves tingle my nape from being remotely close to the open flame. The expression on his face, though, is one of utter bewilderment over what he’s seeing.

“You people are completely nuts.” He shakes his head. “Roasting pigs in your yard as if we’re back in the Middle Ages. Isn’t there an ordinance about this or something?”

“And with you being such a law-abiding citizen, I can see how that would make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t really expect me to sit by the fire and spend hours rotating pigs over the coals?”

I grin. If smoke from the roasting pits gets into his clothes, I’m afraid DeVille might have a heart attack. “An hour at most. Maybe two. As you can see, Jovan needs a break. He’s been out there nearly three hours already. But you’re a newbie, so if your delicate sensibilities can’t handle it, I’ll understand.”

Something that sounds like an animalistic growl leaves DeVille’s throat. It’s deep, and rumbly, and sexy. My guess is the sound means he’s frustrated as hell. The slight twitch in his left eye supports that theory. I smile. Mission half accomplished. This new task should nudge him completely over the edge. But there’s no way he’ll do it. Unloading ten dozen chairs off the delivery truck and then carrying them over to where the massive tent will be set up behind the house has already made its mark. His typically swept-back hair looks slightly more tousled than intended by his style. He’s abandoned his tie and suit jacket somewhere. His pristine white shirt is now marred by several creases, the least of which are on the sleeves he’s rolled up. I’ve spent most of the last hour ogling the corded muscles in his forearms, watching them flex and ripple as he carried the chairs toward the tent. Satan has damn fine forearms. And his back… Fuck. His back… Wide and sculpted, creating a perfect triangle with his narrow waist.

My gawking had nothing to do with his beautiful physique, of course. I was just making sure that he didn’t end up in another argument with Drago or some of the other guys. And the fluttering feeling in the pit of my stomach? The one that I can’t seem to shake? Yeah, that has nothing to do with him either. It’s just my usual anxiety that something might go wrong. That’s all.

His eyes bore into mine, and then he dips his head, bringing his mouth to my ear. “This is some sort of payback, isn’t it?Darling?”

“Of course not,” I whisper in reply. “What would I have to retaliate for? It’s not as if you threatened to pin a murder on me should I not do your bidding.”

“I seem to be out of options.” His lips brush my earlobe with every word. “Especially with your brother lurking behind that stack of chairs, believing he’s invisible. We can’t give him cause to be suspicious.”

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