Page 85 of Precious Hazard

“Is that a Danish name? Or Swedish? You don’t look very Swedish to me. Did you dye your hair black, maybe? It suits you much better. But you should update the photo on your driver’s license.”

I glance at the ID card pinned to the dashboard. The picture is of the fiftysomething blond guy I pulled out of the car. “Yeah. It also makes me look about twenty years younger. Could you please stop talking now?”

“How rude!”

I briefly shut my eyes and take a deep breath. The stabbing pain in my chest chooses that moment to reappear, along with a weird wheezing sound whenever I inhale.

The traffic seems to ease up a bit—thank fuck—so I press harder on the gas only to slam on the brake a second later. A flash mob has suddenly filled the street, blocking the intersection in every direction. Tara’s taxi managed to slip past them just in time.

Of course it did.

“Fuck!” I hit the steering wheel with my fist and lay on the horn.

“Thank you so much.” I hand the money to the taxi driver while one of Arturo’s security guys holds open the cab door. Just my luck. It’s that weasel, Tony.

“Mrs. DeVille.” He looks at me with confusion. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah. Your maniac boss happened,” I mumble as I get out and rush toward the front door.

Jackass. How dare he?

For a while there tonight, I actually had a good time with Arturo. It was kinda fun mingling with some of those snooty people and seeing their reactions to my hair. And Satan surprised the hell out of me when he stared down that aristocratic crone and called her out on her comments. It was sweet of him to come to my rescue, even though I didn’t need his help. I could have handled her on my own, but it was still a very gentlemanly move on his part. A pretty sexy one, too.

He spent the rest of the evening with his hand on my lower back or wrapped around my middle, guiding me to make certain no one bumped into me. I pretended not to notice, of course, but I appreciated his thoughtfulness. Not that I’d admit it to him. And I’d rather eat my own foot than acknowledge that I enjoyed Arturo DeVille’s company. But I did. I really did.

His touch also had a surprisingly calming effect on me, easing my anxiety about being among so many unfamiliar people to a manageable simmer. I’m not sure if my husband hasfigured me out, or if his choosing to keep us mostly away from everyone was just a coincidence. Either way, this was the first time I’ve ever felt comfortable in a crowd.

That stunt with Stavros’s old man was overkill, but I can’t be mad at Arturo for that. The guy essentially called me his son’s leftovers, and it kind of hit the mark. Not in the sense that he obviously meant it, but because I often felt worthless after my terrible relationships. So, although I don’t like seeing anyone in pain, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that seeing Arturo lay him out to defend my honor, like a true knight from one of my books, was hot as hell.

Until Arturo turned irrational and possessive and ruined everything.

I’m just through the threshold when the roar of an approaching vehicle stops me. I glance over my shoulder to see another cab pulling up. When the driver’s door opens, my dear husband steps out, looking furious as fuck.

Why was he driving the taxi? Where’s the actual driver? And who in the lord’s name is the bewildered old woman in a fur coat who just got out of the back?

“Did you decide to change careers, darling?” I holler at him.

Arturo doesn’t seem to find my question funny, because he slams the vehicle door shut with enough force that it sounds like a gunshot in the dead of night. His focus is locked on me as he draws nearer with a homicidal expression on his face.

Time to flee.

“Okay then. I’ll see you in the morning.” I blow him a kiss and immediately run inside.

Sprinting in four-inch heels isn’t for the faint of heart, but I manage somehow. I cross the entry hall with lightning speed, then, hiking up my dress, climb the stairs two at a time. As soon as I reach the landing, I dash toward my room, not taking even a split second to look back.

I head straight for the en suite bathroom, taking off my clothes along the way and dropping them on the floor. The space is enormous, easily the size of my entire bedroom back home. The white marble vanity with its rectangular basin sink spans the length of a wall. Across from it is the massive, glass-walled shower that could accommodate five people, at least. The cabinetry is wood, matching the tones in the bedroom, and there are peach accents everywhere. I love it. Can practically feel my stress dissolve in the spa-like luxury.

I don’t even bother removing the hairpins before entering the shower and turning the water on. With all the hair spray Sienna doused me with, my hair will need to be soaked before I can even attempt to remove them. I tilt my face toward the ceiling-mounted rainfall shower head, closing my eyes while I let the warm water soothe me. Damn, this feels good.

“What part ofwe’re on high alertdidn’t you understand, Tara?”

I scream. Heart beating in my throat, I look over at the source of that growled demand.

Arturo stands in the open doorway of the shower stall, gripping the glass panels on either side.

“Get. The fuck. Out! Right this second, DeVille!”

“Did I not say it clearly?” He takes a step into the enclosure. “Or did you simply choose to ignore me? Defying me again for shits and giggles.”

---