Page 76 of Precious Hazard

“Uh-huh. But a helicopter?”

“Can’t make a grander entrance than arriving in a— Ouch!” I jerk away and snatch the brush out of her hand. “Could you please be more gentle? I’d like to have some hair left after all of this.”

“Well,thathairstylerequires volume with a capital V.” She points to the image on my phone that I have propped up against the water bottle, then snatches the brush back and continues to tease the strands at the top of my head. “What did Arturo say about the chopper? I’m betting he lost his shit, right?”

I lick the fork clean, then dive into another bowl and scoop up some rice. “Well, that’s the thing. He didn’t.”

I woke up in my husband’s bed this morning. Thankfully, its rightful occupant was long gone. The cool sheets told me he had been for hours. It took my muddled brain nearly a minute to remember how I ended up in DeVille’s room, in his bed, in the first place.

My initial thought was that we had sex. All things considered, that might have been the lesser evil. If I could choose, I would pick getting dirty with Satan DeVille over having him witness my meltdown. And if that wasn’t enough, I’m pretty sure I spent the remainder of the night sleeping on top of him. The feel of his arms wrapped around me lingers even now like a ghostly caress. If I had woken up still tangled in his embrace, I would have been mortified and ready to kill myself.

“I was already asleep when he got home last night, and he was gone well before I woke up this morning. So, we haven’t talked about it yet.” I shrug, deciding I neither want to discuss with Sienna nor ponder on my own, the events that happened in between. “He just texted me a bunch of links to various regulations, and to the training and certification programs. Then, the contact info for his insurance agent. And finally, the name of a guy who’s apparently a pilot and already works for him. Not at all the reaction I expected.”

“That’s strange. Maybe Arturo is just in shock. But, girl, what in the hell are you going to do with a helicopter?”

“No idea,” I mumble through another forkful of pork chop. “Especially now, with a team of bodyguards trailing me wherever I go.” As I talk with my mouth full of delicious food, I feel like a total pig, but don’t care. I was fucking starving when I showed up at Drago’s today. “God, I miss Keva’s cooking. Do you think there are more leftovers in the fridge that I can take home with me?”

“Um… sure. You know there are usually tons. But are you sure you’re going to have room for them at your place? How do you like Arturo’s cooking, anyway? Pass me the hairpin.”

“Haven’t tried it. It’s a statement. I won’t eat anything he makes,” I say, handing her a tiny U-shaped wire. The words havebarely left my mouth before I flinch as the metallic ends dig into my skull. “Christ, Sienna.”

“Okay, fair. But I’m not used to playing hairdresser in the dining room. Let’s go upstairs. The lighting is so much better there.”

“We can’t! We’re spilling tea, and the unwritten Serbian rule is that all gossiping happens in the dining room.”

“Whyyyy?”

“I don’t know. It just is.” I shrug right when Sienna pulls on another strand of my hair so hard that it feels as if she’ll yank it out.Ouch!

“You know, I really hoped this animosity between you and Arturo would fade.”

“Not happening anytime soon,” I bite out. My tone is hard, but deep inside, I feel my resolve wavering a bit. Arturo didn’t push me to explain my behavior last night. Neither did he call me a hysterical basket case, which I kind of figured he would. He just… held me. And it felt so damn good.

“You might change your mind if you give his lamb stew a try. What are you eating anyway? Just getting delivery?” Sienna asks while plunging more pins into the massive bun at the crown of my head. “I know Greta is a terrible cook. She might be even worse than you.”

“I was doing a bit of both, ordering in and putting up with a few of her meals. Until this morning, that is. Apparently, your brother banned all food deliveries to the house, and he gave Greta a direct order not to cook for me anymore. I think he’s making his own statement. I can either eat what he makes or starve.” Taking a deep breath, I continue, “I see a lot of sandwiches, cereal, and instant ramen in my life over the nextyear. Just think—one week down, another fifty-one to go. Yay, me.”

“Oh, for the love of God! You two are unbelievable.” She shakes her head. “But… why don’t you just—”

“Make something for myself?” I raise an eyebrow. “Sienna… Gas stove. Remember?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.Oh,” I sigh. “I get chills down my spine whenever I look at that thing.” After last night, I think I might just stay away from the kitchen altogether. At least for the foreseeable future.

“I’ll explain it to Arturo. He’ll have it exchanged for an electric range.”

“You won’t say a word to him. This is my personal shit, and I don’t want it broadcast to everyone. Especially your brother.”No more than I already have.

“Tara—”

“Are we about done?” I interrupt.

“Yeah, all finished. Just need to add hair spray. Close your eyes.”

“Don’t forget the feathers,” I say as the fine mist rains down on me from every direction. Sienna seems determined to use up an entire bottle on my head.

“Okay, but don’t lose them.” My skull gets pricked again when she sticks a peacock feather into the mass of my locks. “These are my favorite.”

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