Page 34 of Cruelest Contract (Storm’s Eye Ranch)

JULIAN

F ortunato is our musical entertainment.

He’s self-taught on the guitar and strums the notes of Unchained Melody while we wait for the bride to appear.

Fort did grumble when I ordered him to change into something nicer before the ceremony.

To my youngest brother, ‘nice’ means jeans with no rips in the knees but now he looks respectable enough.

The sunroom, with a panoramic view of the ranch, doesn’t get used much anymore but I remember being in here often as a kid.

It was a favorite spot of my mother’s during the freezing months when she didn’t want to let us run loose outside.

The room runs half the length of the back of the house and is walled in with huge windows. At the age of five it looked enormous.

The space is really not enormous but suitable enough for a small wedding. Aside from us, Mel, the ranch staff and a handful of our most loyal soldiers, the only guests are Cecilia’s best friend, two of her brothers and our cousin, Nico.

Given Cecilia’s past, it was no surprise to hear she wanted a very small wedding held indoors.

I told Mel to give her whatever she wants and spare no expense but Cecilia didn’t ask for much.

Just a quiet family ceremony with lots of pink flowers.

She hates to travel and jumped at the prospect of staying here at the ranch for our honeymoon.

The fact that she’s easily pleased is just one more reason to admire her.

I was sorry to be called away right after we settled our marriage plans.

There was nothing fun about going to Vegas to mediate an ugly dispute between two casino kings but a mob war benefits no one and it’s been avoided for now.

Then I barely got home before I was needed in Chicago to show up at a funeral for a mobster boss who dropped dead while he was fucking a stripper.

Both times I took Getty with me, partly because that guy needs some lessons in diplomacy. Slicing open a throat or firing a bullet into a forehead isn’t always the best way to solve a problem.

But I had more than one motive for forcing him to join me. I didn’t want him hassling Cecilia while she was planning the wedding. It was easier to drag him along in order to keep an eye on him.

I missed Cecilia while I was gone. This surprised me, how much she stayed on my mind no matter what I was doing. I’m impatient to marry her, even more impatient to have uninterrupted time alone with her.

A nervous priest was flown in from Denver and keeps uneasily shifting his weight a few feet away from where I stand.

We’re not exactly a regular church going family but my father likes to pretend otherwise because the church was important to my mother.

Cecilia isn’t religious but was raised Catholic and had no objection to a priest.

The man’s rabbity face is pale as he stands there in his robe, clutching a bible and waiting for the ceremony to start. Maybe it’s not every day that he gets to officiate a Mafia wedding. At least he’ll have something to talk about with the other priests.

Mel sits in the front row of white chairs with an embroidered handkerchief in her hand. Whenever she looks at me, her eyes get cloudy and she dabs at the corners. The longtime members of the ranch staff, led by Miguel, are bunched up on one side of the aisle. They’re just glad to have the day off.

As for the non-ranch side of the family business, I refused to let a crowd of wise guys come here to leer at my bride.

I didn’t advertise the wedding or send out general invitations.

This might raise some eyebrows among the Mafia elite but I don’t fucking care.

Sonny is here for the ceremony, as well as a handful of our most trustworthy old timers.

The rest of our guys are outside on security detail with strict orders.

Any threats will be handled with deadly force.

Matthias Grimaldi ought to consider himself fortunate he didn’t get his head blown off when he showed up and threw a tantrum.

Speaking of Cecilia’s eldest brother, his bad-tempered ass simmers in the row behind Sonny.

Now and then he shoots a dirty look my way but as long as he keeps his thoughts and his fists to himself we won’t have a problem.

He’s being closely watched by Getty and Nico, both of them positioned nearby and ready to pounce if Matthias decides to erupt.

Angelo sulks alone with a crude ice pack pressed to his newly broken nose. He looks at his phone a lot and is likely counting down the minutes until he gets to leave.

As for the wayward Gabe, he was supposedly kept from attending by old man Grimaldi. The story is that Benvolio Grimaldi insists on keeping his youngest grandson by his side for now. The only reason I’m pissed is because Gabe’s absence hurts Cecilia.

I’ll make it up to her and suggest a trip to the vineyard soon. We’ll be expected to pay our respects to the Grimaldi patriarch in the near future anyway. She’ll get to visit with her twin brother then.

A rustling in the small crowd moves my focus to the door.

Tye has appeared and escorts Alice, the maid of honor.

From what I’ve seen of Alice, she’s bubbly and brazen and somewhat unpredictable.

She’s thrown me a few skeptical stares but whatever her doubts about this marriage, they didn’t stop her from being here to support her best friend.

The hired photographer skulks at the edges and snaps photos, one after the other. Alice yanks on Tye’s arm, trying to slow him down as he sloppily tramps down the aisle. Since Alice is roughly half his size, she doesn’t have much success.

Tye was nursing a massive hangover this morning but he’s recovered and even shaved. He grins at me and bumps my shoulder as he takes his place at my side.

Fort’s guitar playing pauses and a hush sweeps the room. Even Angelo quits staring at his phone and looks up.

Fort begins to strum a new song. Here Comes The Bride .

Then I see her and my breath stalls.

Cecilia is nothing short of radiant. Her hair hangs loose and is ornamented with small flower buds. The glow of happiness on her face can’t be faked. The dress she chose is the lightest shade of pink. She’s angelic and she’s sexy. She’s serene and she’s luminous.

My father holds her arm. I’ll never forget the look on his face earlier when Cecilia asked if he’d mind walking her down the aisle.

It’s not easy to surprise my father but she surprised him.

He looked down at her and was completely charmed.

He even smiled. A real smile, nothing like the infamous icy grin that only appears for enemies.

She also impressed me yet again with the way she defused the situation with her brother. The fierce Matthias Grimaldi got cut down by his little sister and all the fight drained right out of him.

Cecilia is often a contradiction. There are moments when her vulnerability threatens to knock me over. Then her quiet strength reminds me that she’s a survivor with her fair share of grit.

It dawns on me just how fucking lucky I am to have found her.

I reach for my bride and she slips her slender hand into mine. The priest speaks in a nasal monotone and I hardly hear the words that come out of his mouth.

I’m aware that people often write their own vows.

This option never occurred to me. Maybe it should have.

My marriage proposal to Cecilia was strategic and practical but not without concern for her.

Between us, there’s affection and respect and very powerful lust. We’ve acknowledged the reality of our situation. There are no surprises.

This day should feel like a complete success. I have everything I want and I’ll give Cecilia everything she wants.

It’s inexplicable, this nagging suspicion that I’ve failed in a fundamental way.

“I do,” I say with complete conviction.

Cecilia smiles and my heart skips.

Nonetheless, Matthias Grimaldi’s angry accusation chooses this moment to haunt me.

“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.”

Fuck him. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Cecilia safe and make her happy. Our marriage will be real.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

The priest’s declaration cuts through the internal brooding and I immediately gather my bride in my arms. Her face tips up and her lips are ready.

Our first married kiss is not quick or neat. I use my tongue with abandon. Her eager response only intensifies the passion. I lift her off the ground. I grind my hips through layers of fabric until I’m sure she feels how badly I want to skip all the festivities.

Her arms are hooked around my neck. A needy sigh comes from her throat as she kisses me with equal hunger. I’d pay a king’s ransom right now to dismiss our watching audience and carry her away. We deserve to be alone, just the two of us.

But then Tye releases an ear-piercing wolf whistle.

And Getty yells, “If your dick comes out I’m leaving!”

Fort starts riffing Keep Your Hands To Yourself on the guitar.

Fucking infants, the lot of them.

They all receive harsh glares once I set Cecilia down.

A surge of people immediately closes in.

Mel weeps and embraces us both. My father smacks my back and kisses the hand of his new daughter-in-law.

Tye grabs Cecilia in a bear hug, squeezing her like he plans to devour her.

Miguel shakes my hand and shyly tips his hat at the bride.

“Hey you,” a voice says and I look down to find that I’ve just been poked in the chest by the maid of honor.

Alice scrunches up her elfin face and examines me. “Look, I don’t care if you’re some kind of horseback riding mobster bigshot. If you’re not good to my girl, I’ll surely hear about it. And then you’ll suffer.”

“Alice, I’d hate to incur your wrath,” I say. “You can trust that Cecilia will be treated like a queen.”