Page 56 of Precious Hazard

The pounding in my temples ratchets up, and I nearly wince from the crushing pressure. The inside of my throat feels so raw, as if it’s been scratched to shreds. I unscrew the bottle cap and gulp the water, cringing with every painful swallow. It doesn’t dampen my enjoyment of watching my little kitten sleep. I have no doubts that she’ll give me hell the instant she wakes up, so I take the time to appreciate her like this. In precious peace. Her present tranquil state is the grossest misrepresentation of her true hazardous nature. Somehow, though, I admire the wild side of her that urges her to defy me at every turn. It leaves me so fucking randy.

Soundlessly, I make my way to her bed and pull up a corner of the blanket, freeing it from the tangles around her feet. Tara constantly grumbles about being cold, so much so that half my wardrobe is missing. My suit jackets better be among the stuff she brought with her, or this kitten might find herself in another bout of trouble.

With the blanket tucked under Tara’s chin, I head for the set of sliding doors across from the windows. Another meaningless feature in this home. But I can’t wait to see my wife’s reaction when she discovers it.

The connecting doors between our rooms.

“Finally.” I sweep the hair off my face and take in my work.

All four hundred and seventeen of my paperbacks are arranged on the shelves in the sitting area of my room. It took a while to organize them by subgenre. The only thing left for me to do is unbox my special editions. Those I’ll be setting up on my cherished bookcase that I brought from home. But before that, I need to deal with my clothes.

Last night, I only had enough energy to dig out my pajamas and a change of clothes for today. Everything else is still in the suitcases and boxes lined up near the bed. After slicing through the packing tape of the wardrobe box labeledDresses,I flip open the flaps and start pulling out my stash.

The bulk of my dresses are casual, everyday-wear numbers. I do have a few that could be considered fancy, elegant gowns. But mostly, I’m a pants girl. In my book, a good pair of pumps can elevate any pants outfit to a classy ensemble. However, that won’t cut it with my darling husband. The unique terms of our prenup agreement clearly outline that he expects floor-length designer dresses for his damn social engagements. And according to the schedule he was so kind to share with me, there will be three of those this month alone. I’m thankful I was able to raid Sienna’s closet and borrow some of her more muted pieces. They’ll do in the short term, but an unavoidable shopping trip is definitely in my future.

Holding a handful of the nonslip hangers and their accompanying dresses, I head across the room to the walk-in closet. It’s conveniently located near the bed, with oak double doors that match in style to the ornate room entrance. There’s a freestanding armoire sectional on the other side as well, but that thing is too small for all the clothes I had to bring. Not to mention my stash of Arturo’s “borrowed” jackets that are still hidden among my unpacked things.

Shifting the hangers to my left hand, I grab the handle and slide the door to the side. It moves smoothly and silently, without much effort, to reveal—

“What the—” I choke out.

My eyes bounce across the spacious room, eventually landing on the massive bed at the far end and a muscular male body sprawled face down upon it.

A naked male body.

My jaw hits the floor. This isn’t a walk-in closet. My asshole husband put me in a room that connects to his own! And the man sleeps naked! Naked!

I spin around, wanting to slam the door shut. No matter how gorgeous he is, he doesn’t deserve any attention from me. The bastard’s ego is big enough. But an overwhelming sense of curiosity gets the better of me. Biting my lower lip, I glance over my shoulder.

It’s undeniable that Arturo DeVille is a handsome devil, especially in those bespoke three-piece suits of his. But I never expected him to be this well-built. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit my heartbeat picks up speed as I ogle the mass of impeccably defined muscles laid out before my eyes. Every part of him looks like it’s carved from marble. Every sharp plane, ridge, and valleyis chiseled to perfection. Including his ass. Especially his ass. I’m pretty sure I could bounce a coin off that thing.

Ugh! I hate myself for looking!

Stupid dickhead! Why does he have to be so goddamn beautiful?

Tearing my gaze off his glorious behind, I stare at his thick, inked forearm as he clutches the pillow to his face. The memory of that strong arm holding me up during our wedding ceremony floods me. The way his presence, just being held by him, managed to pull me out of my spiral into an inevitable panic attack was simply unreal. Incredible. Unlikely. But true nevertheless. It’s as if Arturo DeVille is a force of nature, stronger than anything in his path.

Aside from my family or very close friends, I’ve never felt safe around people. But at that moment, the arms of my archenemy were the most sheltered place on earth. I would have done anything to stay within their secure embrace. Just the idea that he might let me go spiked greater anxiety.

I craved more of that heat he carries within him. The bastard’s skin is always hot to the touch. I went for his tie, trying to get closer to his warmth. Needing more skin-to-skin contact. But he assumed I simply wanted to fuck him. Whatever. Satan DeVille can imagine whatever fantasy he likes.

However, the truth… the truth I can’t deny, is that in his arms I felt protected. As if having him with me would somehow make everything right. That, even after everything he’s done, the way he’s treated me… something inside me still recognized Arturo DeVille as safe.

Could it be because he already knows what a disaster I usually am? He read that background check on me, so I can’tpossibly disappoint him. Is that what made him a refuge in my spiraling mind? It must be. It can’t possibly be anything else.

Can it?

This line of thinking is getting me nowhere. Arturo DeVillemighthave done me a solid, but that’s it. Who says he won’t demand something in return? Well, he won’t if I just don’t admit to anything. As of this instant, all stupid thoughts about him need to be gone.

After discarding the stack of dresses on the nearby chair and tiptoeing my way to his bed, I yank on the corner of the pillow, ripping it out of his hold.

“Wakey, wakey, darling. Care to explain what happened to my room being as far from yours as possible?”

Arturo cracks an eye open, squinting at me. “What time is it?”

I blink, momentarily bewildered by how… how boyish he looks. There isn’t a trace of his usual flawless swept-back style. His hair is all tousled from sleep, sticking up in every direction and falling across his eyes. That constant scowl he wears is also missing from his face. His morning voice is raspy, more than it typically is.

“Um… almost noon.”

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