Precious Hazard (Perfectly Imperfect, #11)

by Neva Altaj

11. Precious Hazard (Tara & Arturo) Tropes: arranged marriage, age gap, enemies to lovers, grumpy/sunshine, opposites attract, touch her and die, OTT possessive/jealous hero

Therefore, you’ll find this book is a bit more airy, with significantly less dark business involved. My hope is that you will find Tara and Arturo’s story as entertaining as I did while writing it.

But if he’s carrying out his duty, why is there a strange look in his usually stolid depths? Why are they blazing at me, but not in anger? There’s an almost reverent plea in the normally cold depths. One utterly at odds with his ready-to-fight stance.

“Why not?” Ajello’s brows pinch together, creasing his forehead. “Drago’s sister may be a little high-spirited, but I’m confident you two would make a perfect match.” “A little high-spirited? The woman tried to take my head off with a tray of appetizers. If her brother hadn’t thrown her over his shoulder and hauled her away, I’d have strangled that psycho right where she stood.”

“It is if it impacts your performance. You’ve been drowning yourself in work. Sometimes, you don’t even go home to sleep, just crash on the couch in your office. Working nonstop because you simply don’t know what to do with yourself these days. With Asya and now Sienna married and gone, there’s no one left for you to watch over. To protect. No one needs you to save them anymore. You’re a nurturer by nature, Arturo. And you have no idea how to deal with your new reality.”

“So you decided to burden me with a wife?”

“He got your sister. You get his. Problem eliminated.”

“Are you really going to put a bullet in my head if I don’t do it?” He looks at me over the rim of his glass. “No. But I’d greatly appreciate it if you’d just agree.”

“Should I take that to mean you’ll marry the woman, then?” “Yes.” A sigh escapes me. “But Tara Popov will never agree. She hates me. Probably even more than I hate her.” “Hmm. Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to kill her brother. You’ll need to find a way to fix it. Flowers might help. Compliments, definitely. Try asking her out for coffee first.”

She’s a rather cute little thing. But only by outward appearances.

Her long, dark-brown locks are gathered into a high ponytail that somehow emphasizes her delicate facial features. The most striking of which are her big, round eyes lined with long black lashes. Their color is the most vibrant shade of green. Like a springtime forest. Or emeralds.

And then, a different craving surfaces. I want to know what it would be like to have this hellcat in my bed. Would she purr? Mewl sweetly? Or would she hiss and scratch my back?

“Mark my words, Arturo DeVille.” Her vitriol carries on the wind while she points her finger at me. At least, that’s what I imagine she’s doing. It’s hard to tell with the sleeves of my jacket swallowing her entire hand. “I’m going to make your life a living hell.” “Of that, gattina, I don’t have the slightest doubt.”

actually buried the flowers in the backyard, just behind the doghouses.

I kinda like the idea of Drago’s hounds pissing and shitting all over Satan’s present.

Everyone is always worried about me. It’s as if I’m incapable of living independently, or something. Someone constantly needs to hold my hand so I don’t screw up while putting on my “big girl pants.”

The vision she presents is simply uncanny. A warrior departing a battlefield, with the blood of her enemies dripping off her blade. It’s sexy as hell.

I’ve gone to great lengths not to catch feelings for any of my partners. I simply don’t have the capacity to let myself care for anyone else anymore.

Nope. Then again, even with her massive hoop earrings, no makeup, and entirely casual outfit, she looks beautiful. Fuck!

Stop whining about everything like it’s the end of the world.”

“You sure you packed everything?” I ask, stepping out of the car and holding my hand out to help Tara as she follows. “I think so,” she singsongs, completely ignoring my gesture, “but Drago will drop off anything I may have left behind.” “I was being sarcastic, Tara. What the hell do you have in those things?” “Books. Clothes. Books. My favorite recliner. Bookshelves. More books.”

It leaves me so fucking randy.

In what world would he say this

“I love the way you purr when I tease your pussy.”

“No one…” He dips his head lower, barely brushing his lips over mine. “No other man gets to put his hands on my wife. Just me.”

“I’d tread icy waters or walk through the fires of hell for you, wildcat.”

My lips twitch upon hearing his words. “Let me get this straight. You were worried about me. Yet you want to kill me. Or, do you want to kill me because you were worried for me?” “It’s a toss-up,” he growls and slams his mouth to mine.

“Now. Tomorrow. In a fucking year. A decade in the future. I don’t give a shit! I’ll make a eunuch out of any asshole who thinks he can have what belongs to me.”

She is mine. Elation. Mine. Rapture. Mine. Bliss. But only for a little while. Rage. Despair. Agony.

The woman absolutely detests me. And what would I tell her, really? Forgive me for being a dumb fuck. I did what I did because I wanted to push you away. Because I couldn’t stop myself from falling for you, and I didn’t know how to deal with that. Yeah, that’ll certainly set everything right.

“I can’t imagine my life without you, gattina. Please, don’t leave me,” he rasps. My fingers feather over his lips, over that soft little smile. A smile that I wanted to be part of my very own happily ever after. “Your shiny armor is showing,” I whisper just as the lights go out.

The stupid woman doesn’t understand that I’d give the very last drop of my blood for a chance that Tara might live.

“If her recovery progresses as planned, your wife will need to endure many decades of your annoying behavior. Unfortunately, I can’t prescribe her anything for that.”

“I fucked up,” he blurts, running a hand through his hair like he’s nervous. “Big time. Made a mess of everything because I was stupid. And stubborn. And because I was afraid.” His voice cracks a little on the last word. “You told me once that you always screw things up, but that’s not true. Drilling holes in the drywall or taking apart the coffee machine with a butter knife, that’s not messing things up, baby. It’s just you being you. You’re independent and resourceful. Some things might not go your way, but you don’t shy away from a challenge. You don’t give up, and I love that about you. I love everything you do. Even when it involves bizarre hair antics. I get a kick out of seeing what insane idea you’ll come up with next, and I want to keep experiencing that for the rest of my life.”

“I love you, gattina

“Tara, for over a decade, aside from my sisters, the Cosa Nostra Family was the most important thing in my life. But then you thundered into it like a beautiful storm. My precious hazard. And I realized that you eclipsed everything. The Family—if I had to make a choice, I would have betrayed them for you. My life—I would have given it to save yours in a nanosecond. I would give up everything for you, baby, everything. And that thought scared the living shit out of me. Having that kind of weakness, it was simply incomprehensible. But that’s what you became. My Achilles’ heel. “And so, I lashed out. Tried to push you away when all I really wanted was to hold you in my arms, keep you safe, and never let you go. Because I love you. Desperately.” He sucks in a sharp intake of air and pulls a ring from his pocket, lifting it in front of my face. “I’m so sorry, Tara darling. Will you marry me?”

Including my initial attempt at the hospital, I’ve tried my luck exactly nineteen times. Regardless of the time, date, or place, the answer has been no, no, no