Page 33 of Cruelest Contract (Storm’s Eye Ranch)

CECILIA

B y the time we reach Cass’s study, I’ve talked myself into being nervous. Perhaps Angelo found a way to piss off the Tempestas or maybe there’s some Mafia emergency that will postpone the wedding.

Getty is of no help. He simply whistles a morbid funeral march the whole way and ignores my questions.

Downstairs, Nico and Alice are standing near the entrance to Cass’s office. Mel has joined them and though there’s a smile pasted on her face, it seems a bit strained.

“We’ll wait out here,” Nico says with his eyes on Getty. I have a feeling he already knows what this is about.

Alice’s expression is full of doubt. She remains poised to flee upon my command.

I give her a nod to calm her down and enter Cass Tempesta’s office with Getty breathing down my neck.

Julian’s father is seated at his desk with a piece of paper in his hand. He doesn’t even look up.

Angelo sits in a leather armchair. The pinched tension on his face is very uncharacteristic. For once he appears glad, or at least relieved, to see me.

Tye lounges in another chair and he’s wearing a tux, unlike Getty, who is dressed like he’s ready to be a spectator at a rodeo. Tye will be the best man and he’s already disheveled, as if he’s exhausted himself partying and is now ready to doze off.

A flurry of male voices grabs my attention before I can say a word and Julian enters the room ahead of Fort. Julian’s crisp white tuxedo shirt is unbuttoned and he wears black pants with no shoes. Clearly, he was in the middle of getting ready and is perplexed to be summoned to his father’s study.

We lock eyes and his surprise skyrockets. He wasn’t expecting me to be here. He moves to my side and tosses a suspicious glance at Getty.

“Are you okay?” he says, inspecting my face with worry.

I want to wrap my arms around him and inhale the spicy scent of his cologne and then escape from this room, just the two of us.

But all I do is say, “Yes.”

Behind us, Getty leans against a wall and fools around with a deck of cards.

Angelo sits on the edge of his seat, nervous sweat shining on his forehead.

Fort wears jeans with an untucked blue shirt and is covered in a layer of dirt, like he just wandered in here after getting tossed out of the saddle.

And Tye, the best man, yawns in his rumpled tux.

Finally, Julian’s father looks up to face the crowd he’s assembled. He rises from his chair and walks all the way around his desk, carrying the piece of paper.

“I decided we ought to get the paperwork out of the way.” He drops the paper on a round end table covered with tiles the color of charcoal. Beside it, an old fashioned black and silver fountain pen lies in a velvet-trimmed box. There’s also a small bottle of black ink on the table.

I’m ready to relax when I see the paper is simply a marriage license. All this fanfare is totally unnecessary. We could easily have signed the license after the ceremony. But if these theatrics make Julian’s father happy then I’ll play along.

However, I am a little puzzled when Cass also places a small switchblade on the table. Julian’s deep exhale of displeasure doesn’t make me feel any better.

“We can skip the tradition,” Julian says in a tight voice. “We’ll just sign in ink.”

Of course we’ll sign in ink. How else would we sign?

I suspect I’m not going to like the answer to that question.

Cass shakes his head. “You know the rules. Cecilia is joining our family and the mix of blood is symbolic. Your mother did this and so will she.”

He tries to hand Julian the knife with the blade facing away.

Father and son face off. The tension in the room is palpable.

“She hates the sight of blood,” Julian says. His arm circles protectively around my waist. “And you know damn well why.”

His father’s eyes narrow. It’s very plain he doesn’t appreciate an argument from his eldest son. “She’ll have to get a lot tougher,” he says with no sympathy. “Now that she’s going to be a Tempesta.”

In the background there’s some light snickering. I’d put my money on Getty as the culprit.

I dislike being the cause of all this drama. Cassio Tempesta insists on his traditions and his rituals. Losing a few drops of blood won’t kill me. If Julian’s father demands our marriage contract will be signed in blood then so be it.

“I can handle this.” I straighten my spine and hold my hand out for the knife. As soon as it’s in my palm, I turn the blade around and carefully prick the tip of my forefinger with the sharp tip.

This is nothing. Just a tiny cut.

But the second a drop of blood wells up, I’m hit with a wave of nausea.

Memories and nightmares collide.

Gunfire. Screaming. Blood. So much blood…

“Look at me.” Julian takes the knife away, drops it on the table, and cups my face in his hand. “Just look at me, Cecilia.”

I do as I’m told. The whole time I can feel what he’s doing, how he places my finger directly over the inkwell and squeezes a few drops of blood out, enough to satisfy his watching father.

But still I don’t look. I stare up at his face, just as I’ve done before.

In a chivalrous move, Tye approaches and wordlessly hands his brother the handkerchief that was peeking from the pocket of his tux blazer.

Julian snatches it and winds the fabric around the fresh cut on my finger.

He kisses my hand before picking up the knife again and cutting his own finger.

I stare at my makeshift satin bandage as he adds his blood to the ink.

Julian signs his name first and then hands the pen to me.

Under different circumstances, I’d take the time to appreciate the pen itself.

As a dedicated pen and paper girl, nothing can compete with a good writing instrument.

This one is weighty and the flat part of the silver tip is engraved with the image of the ranch brand.

I calmly scrawl my name in neat, meticulous letters.

The blood has mixed with the ink and isn’t visible in our signatures. Julian’s father signs as a witness and he calls Angelo over to be a second witness.

Surprisingly, my brother hesitates with the pen poised two inches above the paper and glances at me. This is the first time I’ve ever spotted an odd flicker of doubt in his face. He seems to be waiting for some sign of encouragement. Or maybe it’s forgiveness he wants.

He doesn’t deserve either one. I stand mutely beside Julian and watch as Angelo sighs and finally scribbles his name in haste.

Just when I think this whole weird rite of passage is over with, there’s an outbreak of commotion outside in the foyer. Sonny huffs into the room, breathing heavily, and wastes no time going straight to Cass.

“Boss,” he pants, “we’ve got an uninvited visitor.”

Julian’s father glares. “Do you need me to fucking show you what you should do with him?”

Sonny mops his sweaty face with the back of his sleeve. “This asshole ain’t interested in taking no for an answer and he claims to be the bride’s brother.”

“Let him in!” I cry and look up at Julian, appealing for help. My instant joy over Gabe’s unexpected arrival is offset by my fear that he’s now being manhandled by Cass’s pack of Mafia dogs.

“You heard her,” Julian says to Sonny. “Let him in.”

Sonny heaves a sigh and pulls a rectangular black device from his blazer pocket. There’s a crackling sound when he presses a button and his raspy voice croaks, “He’s approved. Open the door.”

Seconds later, the front door bangs open and a stream of cursing explodes into the house.

“And the next fucker who puts his rat claws on me is getting them chopped the fuck off!”

Oh no. That deep, snarling rage doesn’t belong to Gabe.

In fact, this is a voice I haven’t heard in so long that I hardly recognize it.

My eyes immediately shoot to Angelo. He looks as shocked as I feel.

Matthias Grimaldi barrels in here ahead of three scowling members of Sonny’s security team. One of them rubs a puffy jaw and another is limping.

My eldest brother is now a stranger. As a young man, he had our father’s dimpled smile and used to randomly buy me bags of saltwater taffy, joking that I was forbidden to share them with Angelo.

Now he looks like a dystopian hellraiser packed with muscle, covered in riotous ink, and ready to end mankind.

Matthias abruptly halts and scans the scene. His blue eyes came from our mother but they’ve become cold, unlike hers. They snap from one face to another until they land on me.

“Cici,” he growls and I cringe at both his harsh tone and the use of my childhood nickname.

But I also find my voice and fire back. “What the hell are you doing here, Matthias?”

After all, I didn’t invite him to the wedding. I couldn’t because I don’t even know his phone number. It seems highly unlikely that Julian would have tracked him down as a surprise, especially because Matthias seems more likely to commit a mass casualty event than offer congratulations.

He doesn’t answer my question because he’s just spotted Angelo. The look on his face goes from dangerous to lethal in a heartbeat and he lunges for Angelo’s throat.

“You fucking piece of shit,” Matthias swears while strangling Angelo.

However, it’s been quite some time since they faced off in a physical battle and a few things have changed. Angelo is no longer a scrawny teenager and he’s able to wrestle his way free.

“What the fuck, you psychopath?” he screams and Matthias tackles him to the floor.

The second Matthias erupted, Julian moved in front of me as a shield. Other than that, no one seems to be in a hurry to split my two brothers up.

They roll around on the floor and trade hard punches. Tye watches from his armchair, appearing only mildly interested when their scuffle reaches two feet from where he sits.

Matthias turns Angelo’s nose to pulp. Angelo bludgeons his ribs.

Julian backs away, keeping me behind him. I clutch at his shirt.

“Stop them,” I beg, horrified. “Please!”

No one even hears me but Cass has already decided enough is enough. He also holds a gun in his hand.

I don’t know how my brothers hear the sound of the hammer being cocked over all their thrashing and cursing but they both freeze. Blood pours out of Angelo’s nose. Instant revulsion turns my mouth sour and I bury my face in Julian’s back until it passes.

“Apologize to my wife,” Cass says in a calm pitch that nonetheless sounds deadly. “For behaving like wild animals inside her home.”

I peek around the edge of Julian’s shirt. My brothers are sitting up now. Angelo presses his sleeve to his bleeding nose. They stare at each other, temporarily united by their confusion since everyone knows Cass’s wife has been dead for decades.

Julian clears his throat and discreetly gestures to the wall where Teresa’s painting hangs.

Matthias gets the message first. He climbs to his feet first and Angelo staggers upright next. I hope they have enough sense not to make a rude remark in a room filled with armed men who aren’t too pleased with them.

“I beg your pardon,” says Matthias and just for a moment he sounds like the old Matthias.

Then his jaw hardens and his angry eyes shift to Julian. The ink all over his arms is chaotic and black. The only part I can make any sense of is a scripted word that runs the length of his right forearm.

The word is Daniela. His lost bride.

“Yeah, sorry,” Angelo mutters. He removes his shirt and holds it to his bleeding nose.

Cass is satisfied with their efforts and holsters his gun. I breathe a little easier.

“I’ll be leaving now,” says Matthias, “but I’m taking my sister with me.” He pivots to glower at Angelo. “Did you and that disgusting old man really think you could get away with this?”

Angelo finds it tough to scowl with a broken nose. “None of this was my fucking call,” he complains.

Matthias is still ready to pound him into dust. “And yet here you are, selling our little sister to this pack of deranged maniacs.”

Both Getty and Fort bristle and start to edge closer, ready to eliminate any threats to the family name if necessary.

I step out from behind Julian and give a warning look to Getty and Fort before turning to my brother.

“Matthias, listen to me,” I say. “I’m marrying Julian of my own free will.”

My brother shakes his head and reaches out to grab me. “Come on, Cici. I need to talk to you alone.”

Julian immediately blocks his path. The two men exchange toxic unblinking stares.

“Whatever you have to say to me,” I tell Matthias, “you can say in front of the man I’m about to marry.”

“You ought to listen to her,” Julian says in a tone that sends chills up my spine. “Speak your peace or get out.”

Matthias sizes him up, unimpressed. “I know what you are, Tempesta. You don’t love my sister. To you, she’s just another acquisition. A brick in your fucking empire.”

Julian’s only response is menacing silence.

My brother’s words sting. And yet I’m marrying Julian with my eyes wide open. I know what I’m doing.

I place a calming hand on Julian’s arm before addressing my older brother.

“Matthias, I’ve seen no sign of you in years.

If you’d ever bothered to contact me then I would have been thrilled to hear from you.

But you didn’t. Now I’m no longer a child and this is my wedding day.

If you’d like to stay as a guest, you are welcome to do so. Or you can leave. The choice is yours.”

Matthias’s throat bobs. Gradually, his anger softens and he turns almost sheepish as he takes a step back.

I look up to find Julian staring down at me. There’s a glint of admiration in his eyes and his hand possessively touches my lower back.

Matthias finally sighs. “Afraid I’m not exactly dressed for a wedding.”

“We’re keeping it informal. Your clothes are fine.”

I can see him wavering on the edge of a decision as he rubs his chin, considering. There might be bleak shadows on his mind of another day, another wedding. For a moment I’m sure he’ll refuse the invitation and walk out.

“I’ll stay,” Matthias says. “And I won’t cause any more trouble, Cici. You have my word.”

“I’m glad,” I tell him and Julian hugs me closer to his side.

Meanwhile, Angelo is still in the background dealing with the wreckage of his face.

Naturally, Tye finds the whole thing hilarious and he’s still snickering when he steers Angelo out of the room in search of some ice.

Angelo flips off Matthias as he goes but I think the two of them have called a truce in their brotherly war for now.

The original plan, which I wasn’t too crazy about anyway, was for Angelo to escort me down the aisle. It looks like he’ll be in no condition to do that. I’m still wary of Matthias and don’t want to push my luck by asking him.

“Do you think your father will do me a favor?” I ask Julian.

His eyebrows shoot up. “Of course.”

As for Cassio Tempesta, he stands alone, momentarily oblivious.

He stares up at his wife’s painting as if there’s no one else in the room at all.