Page 63 of Precious Hazard

“No imposition at all. Staying at hotels isn’t my thing, so I bought the entire resort in anticipation of this meeting. We’re the only ones here, as you can see. Feel free to ask for anything you want.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of you.”

Her voice is like a bird’s song. Sweet. Charming. Playful. She’s never once used that tone with me.

My jaw aches from how hard I’ve got it clenched. The jealousy is raging like an inferno inside me.

“I’ve never met a gentleman like you, Mr. Ruffo,” she adds.

That’s it! I rise so abruptly that my chair nearly topples over. “Apologies for cutting this short. We have a previous engagement we must attend tonight.”

“Of course.” Ruffo stands and offers me his hand. “Looking forward to our next meeting. Hopefully, we’ll get a chance to discuss that additional opportunity for collaboration you mentioned. I’m eager to learn how my transportation network could strengthen the ties between our Families.”

“I’m confident that we will.” He can shove his trucking business up his ass, for all I care right now.

I wrap my arm around Tara’s waist and practically drag her out of the place.

A few throaty grunts and a menacing-looking club, and I’d pass for a Neanderthal in a heartbeat.

“You were exceptionally rude,” Tara chirps as we head across the nearly empty parking lot, occupied only by two essentially identical vehicles. Mine and Ruffo’s, I suppose. “And there I was, doing my absolute best to appear as dutiful and docile as I could muster,” she continues.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Obviously, nothing satisfies you, DeVille. I followed every instruction you set out. Down to the tiniest detail. I’m wearing a fashionable ankle-length dress. Minimal makeup. I didn’t utter a word until I was spoken to directly. And when I did, not a single cuss left my lips. Speaking of which… I maintained the mandatory ever-present smile.”

“I’m certain your facial muscles will cramp from all that fake grinning.” I open the back door of the BMW for her, allowing her to slide in behind the driver. “You looked ridiculous, by the way.”

“I’m glad.” She smiles at me then. It’s not a fake one this time. This smile is genuine and makes clear what she left unsaid.Go fuck yourself, DeVille.

I slam the door shut once she’s in and head to the other side of the vehicle with my blood boiling in my veins. Somehow, my darling wife has found the blueprints to everything that makes me tick. She knows just which nerve of mine to poke to make me lose my fucking shit. In more ways than one.

What the hell possessed me to kiss her earlier? Or did she kiss me? I don’t fucking remember. There was no one around for whom we had to perform. No one we needed to fool with our kissing. Still, my brain must have short-circuited. Theonly thing I recall is the incessant hunger. For her. I wanted to devour her. Consume her. I wanted to indulge. Indulge. Indulge.

The fuck?

Settling into my seat, I immediately reach inside the door pocket to fetch the bottle of ibuprofen I stashed there yesterday. This entire week I’ve felt like crap, and this morning, a gripping tightness and soreness settled in my chest. Maybe it’s these pills that are causing my behavior? I must have taken too many in the last twenty-four hours. Yeah, that’s got to be it.

I grab a bottle of water out of the cup holder and pop two more pills.

“You’re doing drugs now?” Tara grumbles next to me.

“Yes. A man needs to be completely stoned to spend time in your charming presence.”

Tara’s eyes flare in surprise, and maybe a little hurt, before she quickly looks away, focusing on something beyond the window. Although she’s trying to hide her reaction, I don’t miss the slight quiver of her lower lip.Shit.Each time I allow myself to feel this insane attraction to my wife, my self-preservation instinct kicks in, and I become the worst kind of asshole. The kind that needs to spew crap from my mouth to deflect and get myself back in line.

I squeeze my temples, feeling like the absolute dick that I am. “It’s only over-the-counter painkillers, for Christ’s sake. I just—”

“I don’t really care,” she huffs.

“Tara—”

“Can we please just drive the rest of the way in silence?” She sighs. “Please.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

I pull out my phone to check how long it will take us to get home. Nearly an hour, according to the GPS. With Ajello controlling New York City, this golf resort and country club for the elite has frequently been chosen as a venue for meetings. Since it lies outside the borders of our territory, it’s as close as a member of another Family could get without our don’s express permission. But its remote location is also the reason why Adriano Ruffo must have been able to purchase the establishment in the first place without incurring Ajello’s wrath.

Grabbing my laptop off the side console, I set it on my lap to start going through emails that arrived in the last few hours. There are more than a dozen that need my immediate attention. I answer the one from Ajello first, responding with a report on next month’s drug shipments, then move on to reviewing the concept sketches submitted by our architectural firm. Sometimes this damn job feels like I’m a Fortune 500 CEO instead of the underboss of a New York crime family.

---