Page 44 of Cruelest Contract (Storm’s Eye Ranch)

JULIAN

“ Y ou cowboys really suck in the kitchen,” my cousin Monte observes and casually extracts a finished pizza from the oven.

I examine the uneven lump of dough I’ve been trying to roll into a pie. “Cut me some slack. Not all of us have been trained on Italian cuisine since birth.”

“You’re doing fine,” says Uncle Sal, strolling in with a dishtowel flung over his shoulder. He peers down at my work. “Add some flour.”

I sprinkle some flour on the dough. I don’t see an improvement.

Uncle Sal smacks my back with a chuckle. “Don’t worry, kid. Pizza runs in your veins. Like your mother and your grandfather. You’ll get the hang of it.”

Monte smirks at me. I throw some flour on his Gino’s Pizzeria t-shirt.

Frankly, I don’t share my uncle’s optimism that I’ll ever be a pizza chef but I do enjoy being here.

My mother must have stood in this very spot, doing the exact same thing I’m doing.

Gino’s has been a staple in Manhattan’s Lower East Side for decades.

My mother and Uncle Sal were raised here.

They grew up in an apartment right upstairs.

“What have you done with Fort?” I ask my uncle.

Uncle Sal snorts. “He’s downstairs helping Nico clean out the basement.”

“We’re all safer that way,” Monte adds.

No argument from me. I’m guilty of possessing few kitchen skills but Fortunato is an outright disaster.

The rough and tumble qualities that serve him well on a ranch don’t really translate to this environment and he hates being cooped up indoors.

He has already destroyed a stack of plates, accidentally set fire to a work apron and spilled a can of tomatoes all over the counter.

The only reason why I forced Fort to come along on this trip is because he’s been the least involved in the family business and that needs to change. It’s time for him to catch up on the learning curve.

So far, I haven’t had much to teach him. Since we landed in New York we’ve been biding our time and waiting for Mafia bigshot Vittorio Messina to agree to sit down for a meeting.

The start of this sticky situation can be traced back to the Mafia wars that broke out two years ago.

Two of the biggest bosses, Albie Barone and Richie Amato, were killed, leaving a power vacuum.

My father was calculating the best way to capitalize and Albie Barone’s youngest daughter, Sabrina, was still unmarried.

She also happened to be Vittorio Messina’s niece.

Cass Tempesta thought he could manipulate the situation to his advantage and get a piece of the New York organized crime pie.

He lured one of Messina’s soldiers and secretly paid him a hefty sum to monitor Messina and his niece.

Then he extended an offer to bring Sabrina to Storm’s Eye Ranch in the hopes of arranging a marriage.

The thing is, he kept me out of the loop.

I knew nothing until my father flew into a rage after learning that Sabrina had impulsively married my cousin, Monte, her former bodyguard.

There was already a family rift between us and our cousins. I’ve deeply regretted it ever since it it happened. Both Monte and Nico grew up spending summers at the ranch and we were always tight.

Monte, the eldest, was still in his teens when my father offered him a place in our family. As the nephews of his beloved Teresa, he swore Monte and Nico would be treated as sons.

They refused his offer. Cassio Tempesta isn’t the type of man who adjusts well to hearing the word ‘No’.

Hard feelings were in the air and I should have stepped up to be the voice of reason. Instead, tempers flared and a full scale physical brawl between us and our cousins ensued.

After that, Monte and Nico returned to New York and we remained at an icy cold impasse for years.

I thought this would change after the death of our mutual grandfather but we’re all a stubborn bunch of fuckers and it wasn’t until last year that I finally convinced my father it was long past time to make amends.

We’re on good terms now and I’m grateful. Nico even flew all the way out to the ranch for my wedding. He’s the one who tipped us off that Messina is in town and suggested there’s an opportunity to resolve the grudge between Sicily’s most powerful boss and my father.

Easier said than done.

Messina is one cagey bastard and so far he’s not too interested in letting bygones be bygones.

I’ve got three of Sonny’s boys out and about keeping watch on the neighborhood, although it’s a safe bet Messina would never give an order to spill blood around here.

Uncle Sal is in a serious relationship with the widowed Guilia Messina Barone, Vittorio’s younger sister. Plus his niece is married to Monte.

“Guilia and Sabrina are still out to lunch,” Uncle Sal says, guessing my thoughts. He’s always in motion, wiping down counters or checking the next batch of rising pizza dough.

As soon as we arrived, Guilia promptly announced that her new mission was to persuade her brother to accept a meeting with us. I objected to having my uncle’s girlfriend run interference on my behalf but she insisted. Today she and Sabrina joined him for lunch where he’s staying at the Plaza Hotel.

My father sent me here because my diplomacy skills are better than his. I’ll play nice with Messina if it means we can put this shit behind us for good. All I want to do is go home to my wife.

Leaving Cecilia tore me up a lot more than I expected. As I watched the country pass by from the window of our private jet, I felt more desolate with every minute that took me away from her.

We’re not phone talkers, either of us. Our conversations are always short and avoid deep topics. Last night when we spoke she sounded distracted, even a little gloomy. It’s been eating at me all day.

Uncle Sal plops a fresh ball of dough down beside me and rolls it out with impressive speed. “Tell me about your wife,” he says. “Cecilia, right? Nico showed me some pictures from the wedding. She’s pretty as can be.”

“Yes, she is,” I agree and try to copy the way he shapes the dough. “She’s smart too. She doesn’t put up with any crap and even earned Getty’s respect.”

He looks up and grins. “In that case, your mom would have liked her. Teresa never had any trouble putting any of these wise guys in their place no matter how tough they thought they were. But she always made her point with a smile.” His grin fades into a more melancholy expression.

“I was here the day your father walked in. Cass had already made a name for himself but one look at my sister and it was like he’d been hit by a comet. He never recovered.”

“He sure didn’t,” I say, trying not to wince because at this second there’s a high likelihood my father is sitting in his office and talking to a painting of his dead wife.

My uncle sets down the dough and crosses his arms, inspecting me more closely. “How is your dad, Julian? I mean, how is he really? Cassio and I never saw eye to eye on a lot of things but he loved my sister something fierce. I know the pain never faded.”

Loyalty won’t let me admit the truth. The older my father gets, the more he craves to get lost in his memories of Teresa.

My fear is there will come a day when he sinks into the echoes of the past for good and no one will be able to pull him out. Not even us.

“My dad’s doing just fine,” I say, careful to keep my tone even.

“Hmph,” grunts my uncle, not fooled.

His concern is appreciated. But the inner circle made by my brothers and me and our father is not accessible. We are the unbreakable, impenetrable eye of the storm, just like the land we live on. The bonds uniting us are not for outsiders to understand. That’s the way it will always be.

Monte has been listening to the conversation. A subtle flash of sympathy tightens his mouth and then he starts raking a pizza cutter across the latest pie to leave the oven.

Uncle Sal returns to the front counter to help with a new wave of the lunch rush. I’m not really doing much good back here in the kitchen and I’m on my way to step out and give Cecilia a call when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I’m hoping it’s her. She never answered the text I sent hours ago.

But no, Tye is calling. He’s not one to call in the middle of the day for shits and giggles. I feel a prick of concern as I step out of Gino’s into the commotion of the city streets.

“Hey,” I say into the phone and take refuge in an access corridor to the residential apartments upstairs.

“How’s New York?” My brother’s voice is tense. Very unlike him.

“It’s still here. Are you taking good care of my wife?”

Tye’s long pause makes my stomach drop.

“What happened to Cecilia?” I’m suddenly panicked as I think back to her sad silence on the phone and her reluctance to text back.

Tye blows out a loud breath. “I really fucked up, Jul.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I ran my damn mouth too much yesterday at lunch. She got the wrong idea about Sabrina. Now Cecilia thinks you just settled for her as a consolation prize or something. I don’t know. She won’t let me explain how it was.”

“Bullshit,” I snap. “I never even met Sabrina until after she was married to Monte. And at the time I had no idea that Dad was playing matchmaker until it all blew up.”

“I know that. But now you might have a tough time convincing Cecilia.” He sighs again. “I’m truly sorry. I’d never do anything to hurt that girl. How can I fix it?”

He can’t fix it. I need to get back to Storm’s Eye Ranch and fix it myself. I’ll take my wife in my arms and tell her the truth.

I never agreed to marry anyone else. I never wanted to marry anyone else.

Cecilia is everything I could ever desire in a woman and I’m constantly thanking my lucky stars that she’s mine.

We didn’t get where we are the conventional way, but what does that matter?

I meant every word of the vows I spoke to her.

“I’m sorry,” Tye says again.

Apologies aren’t routine for us. We handle disputes through force and fists. The fact that my brother keeps repeating his apology means he’s truly miserable. But it’s far more alarming that he believes Cecilia is miserable.

Silently, I’m cursing my father for setting this disaster in motion with his risky scheming.

I’m cursing Vittorio Messina for derailing my honeymoon by showing up in New York.

And while I’m at it, I might as well curse the entire Cosa Nostra for its unending grudges and vendettas.

I’ll never surrender my seat at the Mafia table but it sure does come with a lot of fucking complications.

None of this will be said out loud, not even to Tye. He’s awaiting a response and I’ll choose my words with care, like I always do.

Maybe Cecilia is onto something with her therapeutic breathing techniques. Might as well give it a try.

However, all I get when I take a deep breath is the stale air of an old city building in summer.

It was a stupid idea anyway.

“I should have thought of this,” I say. “Cecilia is reasonable. I should have explained everything to her already. I’ll deal with it.”

“All right,” he says. “I’m guessing you can’t come home yet?”

“Nope. Just do your best to make my girl happy until I can get back there.”

“You know I will,” he replies. “Hell, even Getty feels bad about what went down.”

After I hang up with my brother, I lean against the wall and stare at the grid of locked silver mailboxes belonging to the building’s residents. Just as I run my thumb across my phone screen to call Cecilia, the arrival of a vehicle grabs my attention.

The black luxury SUV would be unremarkable in the city traffic if not for that fact that I saw an identical car show up right here a few hours ago. Vittorio Messina’s sister and niece climbed inside. Now they are back.

A jowly Italian bodyguard glares from behind mirrored sunglasses as he opens the rear passenger door.

Sabrina exits first and flies straight into the arms of her husband, who has stepped outside to greet his wife.

He sweeps her up and they start kissing right there on the sidewalk.

Meanwhile, Guilia waves off the bodyguard when he tries to help her out of the backseat.

She looks around, frowns, and taps Monte on the arm. He detaches from Sabrina long enough to listen. At the same time, both Fort and Nico have exited the pizzeria and they are watching. Guilia’s arms are gesturing wildly and she points at Fort. He shrugs and glances around uneasily.

Clearly, something is happening and I need to deal with it. My brother is the first to see me coming and mutters something that causes Guilia to turn around.

Uncle Sal has joined the small crowd on the sidewalk. He gives his girlfriend a peck on the cheek and Guilia smiles at him before looking at me.

“My brother will see you now.” She points to the car idling by the curb. “Get in.”