Page 41 of Cruelest Contract (Storm’s Eye Ranch)
CECILIA
I can’t shake the feeling that I’m trespassing as I sit here fretting in Julian’s room without Julian.
I’ll need to get over it. This is our room now. Julian said I could take my pick of a different bedroom but I didn’t want to force him out of the room he grew up in.
Leaving the honeymoon cabin was a huge letdown.
We were supposed to stay for a week and I’m still disappointed.
Julian didn’t explain why he had to fly to New York but he took Fort and a few of Sonny’s men with him.
He kissed me goodbye yesterday morning and handed over his black Amex card.
I’m supposed to go shopping and redecorate however I please.
Last night I didn’t sleep well and I woke up with the sun. The window shutters are now open and from where I sit on the bed, I see a very similar view to the one I had in the room down the hall. I try to imagine Julian here in this same spot as a child. Then as a teenager. Then as a young man.
He keeps his surroundings simple. Uncluttered.
His clothes are either neatly folded in dresser drawers or hung in the back of the closet.
The card he gave me is supposed to pay for a new bedroom furniture set of my choosing.
The walls are slate blue, a little dark for my taste but not terrible.
Some bright accents and throw pillows would make a big difference.
Unidentified noises drift from downstairs. Some are clearly human. A slamming door. A man’s laughter. I’m puzzled by the occasional sound of heavy machinery. Maybe it’s a tractor. I didn’t realize tractors were this loud.
My journal is open on my lap. I’ve been trying to get motivated by setting some goals for the day.
Julian mentioned that the home office where I’ll be working is nearly ready.
I have many questions about the legitimate business side of the Tempesta world.
From what I’ve gathered, their portfolio is vast with land, hotels, casinos and construction firms. The ranch is just one small piece in a complicated puzzle.
Giving up on my goal list, I close the journal and set it on a small desk.
The surface is dark grey and there are no drawers.
Given the power strip and collection of neatly bound cords, its primary function seems to be a charging station.
As I take a seat in the armless rolling chair, I can’t imagine Julian’s tall, muscled body hunkering down and getting comfortable here. I doubt he uses it.
I miss him. Any secret worries I might have had about marrying Julian were dissolved during the days we spend together at the honeymoon cabin. Julian was thoughtful and attentive and sexy. He treated me like nothing less than a queen. Even Alice would have been impressed.
Julian must be awake by now. Every morning he was up and about before I’d even opened my eyes.
The morning after our wedding, my first view was Julian standing in the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of gym shorts and cutting up a lemon because he knows I like to squeeze a slice into my morning tea.
There was an expression of serious concentration on his face as he methodically cut up the fruit, tackling the chore with the same determination he applies to everything he does.
And in that moment, as a piece of black hair fell in his eyes and he refused to move it, I realized I could truly fall in love with my husband.
That’s not really the whole truth.
I’m already falling in love with him.
My phone is sitting inches away and I grab it to pound out a quick text.
Are you awake?
Julian responds by immediately calling. “Good morning, beautiful,” he says when I pick up.
I pull my knees up to my chest, giddy and grinning. “I just remembered that New York is two hours ahead.”
“Yep.” There’s music in the background. An old classic rock song that I recognize but don’t know the name of. “Is everything okay at home?”
“Of course. I was just about to go downstairs to breakfast.”
And I wanted to hear your voice.
Can’t say that out loud. Too corny. Too needy.
While I’m scrambling for some meaningful and non-pathetic words, glass breaks on Julian’s end of the line and a man’s voice brays, “Fucking hell!”
“Is that Fort?” I ask.
Julian chuckles. “Yeah, little brother’s no good in the kitchen. He just dropped a stack of Uncle Sal’s plates.”
“What’s Fort doing with a stack of plates?”
“Nothing anymore,” Julian says with a snort. The voices of multiple men blend together. I can’t hear what they’re saying but bawdy laughter breaks out.
“Sounds like you’re busy,” I say. “I should get downstairs anyway. I don’t want Mel to think she’s obligated to bring me breakfast.”
“I told Tye and Getty to stick close to home and look out for you,” he says. “But if you have any trouble, let Sonny know. I’ll call you tonight.”
“Okay.” I chew my lip. “Julian?”
Miss you. Want you. Obsessed with you.
“Um, have a good day,” I say. I’m glad he can’t see the way I cringe.
“You too, baby,” he replies and I nearly melt into the chair.
The things this man does to me should be illegal.
Before I leave the room, I stick my journal under the mattress.
Getty hasn’t invaded my privacy since that one memorable dinner but I’d rather not take chances.
A couple of papers fall out of the cover’s inner pocket.
There’s a receipt from a used bookstore, saved because the cashier took the time to draw a happy-faced sunflower.
The other paper that fell out is the folded magazine page I’d saved from the plane that delivered me to Wyoming.
The caption demands to know if I’m ready to face life’s unexpected storms. I’m not sure why I saved it. At the time, nothing was certain and I was filled with dread.
Was that really less than a month ago? Hard to believe.
I see no sign of the rest of the household when I leave the room and walk downstairs. The hum of machinery grows louder. In fact, I’ve seen no one since excusing myself after dinner last night and retreating upstairs.
But I do smell food and my stomach rumbles accordingly. The route to the dining room requires me to walk right past Cass’s study and the door is open. If he’s in there, I should say good morning. After all, he’s my father-in-law.
The man himself sits behind his broad desk and faces away. I thought I heard his voice and assumed he was on a call. My plan was just to wave and move on. I must have heard wrong. Now I can see him sitting in motionless silence as he stares out the window and contemplates the view of his kingdom.
A prickle of anxiety still climbs up my spine when I’m faced with Julian’s father but it’s fading.
I doubt Cass Tempesta could possibly pose any threat to me.
The more I see Julian’s father, the more I feel deeply sorry for him.
But still, some deep instinct for self preservation warns that I ought to keep my guard up when he’s around.
He turns his head before I can decide whether to clear my throat or evacuate the doorway. A twitch of grey fur catches my eye and I’m startled to see Louisa calmly keeping watch from the seat of an armchair.
I had hoped that my absence might have made my cat’s heart grow fonder. Yesterday I tried to entice her with a bag of kitty treats. She sniffed the air with disdain and rocketed down the hall.
Now here she sits in the office of the moody Cass, content as can be.
What do the Tempesta men have that I don’t have?
“Cecilia,” says Julian’s father, “what can I do for you?”
He doesn’t sound unfriendly. Simply curious.
I step into the room, acutely aware that Teresa’s painting is staring down at my back. “I was just passing by and wanted to say good morning.”
“Good morning,” he replies and keeps his eyes fastened to my face. It’s rare to see him without his black cowboy hat. His black hair is threaded with grey but still thick. His penetrating stare reminds me of his eldest son.
“Will you be going to breakfast?” I ask. “I’d be happy to walk to the dining room with you.”
The faintest hint of a smile bends his lips and then disappears. “Not today,” he says and swivels back to face the window. “You go ahead. The boys will be there to look after you.”
I’m not a pet. Nobody needs to ‘look after’ me.
I’m on the verge of backing out of the room and leaving Cass to his window watching when Louisa leaps off the armchair and darts past me toward an unknown destination. Her fur brushes against my bare ankle and I whirl around in surprise.
Good thing I did because I was about to be guilty of failing to ‘pay my respects’ to Teresa. This is a cardinal offense around here. I don’t mind sparing a few seconds to solemnly gaze at the painting of Julian’s mother. Then I hurriedly cross myself.
When I glance over my shoulder, I’m uneasy to discover the way Cass is intently observing me. He makes no comment and his face betrays nothing. Still, I detect an air of appreciation before he faces the window again.
Leaving that room is a relief. Louisa is long gone and I follow the sound of Tye’s laughter to the dining room.
“You can walk!” he bellows at the sight of me. “Looks like my big brother didn’t give you as much attention as you deserve.”
I roll my eyes over the stupidity of the comment and plunk down in my usual chair. “I received no shortage of attention but thanks for your concern.”
Getty sits across the table. The deck of cards shuffling between his hands has a yellowed antique patina. They look interesting. If any other member of the family was holding them I’d ask to take a closer look. Instead, I just shake out a white linen napkin and spread it across my lap.
“What are we doing today?” Tye swings his arm across the back of my chair. “Me and Sunshine over there are at your service.”