Page 13 of Cruelest Contract (Storm’s Eye Ranch)

CECILIA

T he mouse has lost its black felt nose and the ability to squeak.

I’ve yet to see Louisa touch any of the cat toys that arrived with her, but this one appears to have been well loved at some point. That’s why I’m on my hands and knees while dangling it from a stringy yarn tail.

“Look!” I shake the toy mouse and pitch my voice far higher than normal. “It’s your friend, Louisa. It’s Mr. Mouse.”

The cat’s unblinking eyes stare right through me. Her nostrils twitch. She remains hunched beneath the bed and everything about her manner says she thinks I’m dangerously insane.

With my knees now feeling bruised by the knotty hardwood floor, I give up.

The rejected mouse gets tossed into Louisa’s cozy new bed on the floor.

She refused to sleep there last night, preferring to remain hidden beneath the four poster bed in the middle of the room.

Twice she darted out to use the litter box I set up in the adjoining bathroom.

The bowl of cat food in the corner remains untouched.

I would have been overjoyed if she’d snuggled up in bed beside me. No luck there.

At least caring for Louisa has allowed me to stay distracted from my own predicament. I was exhausted enough to sleep soundly when my head hit the pillow last night but now it’s a new day and I can’t put off thinking about my situation.

I’ve been given a week.

One week to select a Tempesta husband. Cassio Tempesta waited until we were all seated in the dining room and made this declaration in a very nonchalant manner as he passed the antipasto tray.

“If you don’t need a full week, Cecilia, just say so. From this moment, you are free to make your choice.”

Naturally, I would choose to return to my cozy Arizona apartment with nothing more dire than job hunting on my mind. This isn’t one of my options.

And I suppose I now have only six days left to announce my decision.

The room’s three tall windows are covered with dense blackout drapes.

I push these aside, only to be struck with a sharp ray of sunshine.

The shutters are partially open and I’m dazzled by the magnificent view of Storm’s Eye Ranch.

The scene is downright postcard-worthy and I pry the shutter slats apart so I can take a better look.

From here I cannot see the boxy barn or the long horse stables that were pointed out to me last night.

A wooden rail fence hems in the yard surrounding the house.

Beyond the fence, a pair of horses idle at the crest of a shallow hill.

The horses are mounted by riders in cowboy hats.

I’m not sure if they are the Tempesta brothers or members of the ranch staff.

The plush towel wrapped around my wet hair starts to unravel and I remove it with one restless shake, nearly losing my glasses in the process.

For now the wet towel gets draped across the back of a cushioned chair pushed against a small writing desk.

Combing my fingers through the tangled, damp mess of my hair, I take a long, searching look at the vista outside the window.

The cowboys have disappeared. They must have cleared the hill. When I squint, I can make out the dark brown peak of a small house nestled between the hill and a distant tree grove.

Yesterday’s arrival was riddled with new experiences amid waves of anxiety.

Whatever information was given to me about ranch operations wasn’t retained.

I was surprised by how many buildings are on the property.

Some of them, like the barn and the stables, have obvious uses.

I don’t know about the rest. After a very brief orientation, I spent an uncomfortable dinner trying to fork occasional bites of rigatoni and wrack my brain for polite responses whenever Cassio Tempesta required one.

Not that the Tempesta patriarch was unpleasant. I remember the fearsome rumors about him and don’t know how to reckon the courteous host of Storm’s Eye Ranch with the stories of a vengeful madman who roams the halls of his gothic mansion carrying on imaginary conversations with his dead wife.

The Tempesta brothers also surprised me during dinner.

I was assigned a seat between Julian and Tye.

Rather than a chaotic, testosterone-fueled fight club event, the hour was calm and the brothers were impeccably well mannered.

I observed them as discreetly as possible, trying to guess if they’re just playing along with their father’s courtship charade or if any one of them will really step up to the altar when called.

When the dinner dishes were cleared away and a cake was delivered to the table, I was initially mystified. I had no idea that anyone in the family was celebrating a birthday.

“I know we’re a day late,” said Cassio, his gleaming black eyes fixated on my reaction. “Happy Birthday, Cecilia.”

For a moment, I was speechless. The cassata cake piped with pink icing roses was for me .

But how did they know?

I suppose I should have been prepared for the fact that the Tempestas have done their homework.

Julian lit the candles and slid the cake over. “Make a wish,” he said in his velvety, deep voice that has already ravaged my composure more than once. His breath feathered over my neck and his knee briefly pressed against mine.

It’s not my imagination that every move Julian makes feels deliberate. Calculated. Intentional. He has a talent for jumpstarting my ovaries and I’m convinced he knows it.

I blew out the candle immediately but was too flustered to make a real wish. Maybe I should make one now. Can’t hurt.

I wish Gabriel would call. Or at least answer my texts. After dinner, Angelo texted to confirm my arrival at the ranch and then ignored all my follow up questions.

A rustling noise outside the bedroom door gets my attention. Uneasiness spikes. I’m unprepared for a visitor. The first thing I did after shutting the door last night was flip the lock and I haven’t been disturbed since then.

The room itself is very comfortable. Spacious, with the walls painted a calming light blue and featuring a king-sized bed, along with the same type of rustic dark wood furniture found throughout the house.

I had assumed that the bright pink hydrangeas stuffed into vases sitting atop the dresser and the desk were fake until I watched a vibrant petal fall off.

A light rap on the door is followed by a gentle female voice. “Cecilia?”

I exhale with relief and unlock the door. Carmela has encouraged me to call her ‘Mel’. From what I gather, she’s lived here for ages and is treated like a member of the family.

She’s waiting with a smile when I open the door. “Good morning,” she chirps. There’s a large wooden tray balanced in her hands and I back up to give her room.

“I figured you’ve gotta be hungry.” She has a thick east coast accent and shakes her head when I try to take the tray from her.

She sets it down on the small desk. “Breakfast is served in the dining room at seven but you deserved to sleep in on your first day. If you have any requests, just let me know. Our chef used to run a five star restaurant in Philly and can whip up anything under the sun.”

“Thank you.” I tighten the belt on my robe and feel like a slacker. “I’m sorry you had to bring all this up here.”

Mel flips a white ceramic mug over and fills it with hot water from a kettle. She plucks a tea bag from a small bowl and carefully dips it in the water. “I don’t mind at all.”

She straightens up and peers into my eyes. Her short black hair shows grey roots. The number of lines etched into her face imply she’s spent a lifetime smiling. I’m very glad she’s here.

“How long has everyone else been up?” I ask.

“Sweetie, days on a ranch always start early. But don’t you worry. You just got here so you take all the time you need. You’ll have plenty of chances to get to know the boys better.”

From the way she says ‘the boys’, it’s clear she adores them. Mel must have been told the reason why I’m here. I have to wonder what she thinks of this arrangement.

I lift the mug to my lips. English Breakfast tea, my favorite. “You’ve lived at the ranch for a long time?”

Her smile dims and her eyes drift to the window. “Since the boys lost their mother.”

I know very little about Teresa Tempesta. Only that she was murdered by one of her husband’s many enemies. The youngest of her sons was just a baby when she was killed.

Remembering this tragic fact unleashes fresh compassion for the men of Storm’s Eye Ranch. Whatever else I might think of Cassio Tempesta and his sons, they’ve suffered a terrible loss.

Most people can’t relate to a tragedy of that magnitude. How it haunts you and steals your happiness. How it makes you dread the calendar and ransacks your dreams.

Unfortunately, I understand all of this far too well.

“I’m supposed to marry one of them,” I blurt out. “I’ve been told to choose which one. Did you know that? Did they tell you why?”

Mel’s expression shifts in an instant. Her eyes go flat and her mouth freezes.

She plucks a white linen napkin from the tray, unfolds it, and sets it down again. “The scones are blueberry with lemon sugar icing.”

She raises her eyes to meet mine. There’s no hostility to be found. But there’s no sympathy either.

“It’s Teresa’s recipe,” she says. “The boys have always loved them. But if you have a request for the kitchen, I’ll pass it along. You can have anything you want, Cecilia. And you’ll be happy here. You’ll see.”

Her words are far closer to a promise than a threat and yet my arms prickle with a chill.

Whether or not Mel already knows the details of the agreement between my family and the Tempestas, the facts are irrelevant to her. She’ll do everything in her power to make sure I fulfill my purpose. She is their ally, first and forever.