Page 45 of Cruelest Contract (Storm’s Eye Ranch)

JULIAN

N ico didn’t need to go with us but it was a real stand up move. He gets a hell of a lot of credit for that.

I get why he jumped in the car with me and Fort. He’s the son of Guilia’s boyfriend and the brother of Sabrina’s husband. From what I hear, Messina has a real soft spot for his sister. Nico assumes he’ll be more agreeable when confronted with the family connection.

Truth be told, I can handle Messina on my own but my cousin’s allegiance is noted. I won’t forget this.

There was kind of a twitchy moment when one of Sonny’s boys came around the corner just as we were being herded into Messina’s car.

He had a street cart hot dog in one hand and a giant pretzel in the other.

He took one look at Messina’s men, dropped all his food on the concrete and reached for his gun.

With one harsh signal from me, he wilted and retreated.

Now I’m squashed in the backseat between my brother and my cousin while Messina’s driver careens through the streets of Manhattan. His buddy in the passenger seat swivels around and eyeballs us.

Nico seems cool and unbothered. He casually scrolls through social media and even yawns like this chore is just ordinary and boring.

Maybe it is for him. Monte stepped back from his gun-for-hire role after he married Sabrina but Nico is still right in the middle of the action.

Soon enough he’ll be one of the top enforcers in the city.

Fort, however, looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. I poke his side with my elbow as a message to relax.

I’m not worried. Yes, I know Messina’s reputation for leaving bits and pieces of his enemies all over Palermo. So what? This is no worse than our reputation.

But when my eyes catch on my wedding ring, there’s a new and unnerving twinge in my gut. I have a wife to think about now. Cecilia is waiting at home for me and I’ve made promises to her. I plan to stick around long enough to keep those promises.

However, it has just occurred to me that I should have made ironclad arrangements in case the worst ever happens. For a terrible second I think of Cecilia falling back into the clutches of her grandfather.

That cannot ever fucking happen. She won’t be safe with the Grimaldis.

Whipping out my phone, I fire off a text to Tye.

You need to promise to take care of my wife no matter what.

He answers back in a heartbeat.

WTF?????

I picture him jumping to his feet and wildly cursing. I roll my eyes.

No reason to panic. Just promise, you asshole.

His next answer takes longer.

I promise. Anyone who comes for Cecilia needs to kill us all first.

Satisfied that my brother’s word is stronger than any legal document, I shove my phone back in my pocket.

The city scenes blend together outside the window and a small eternity passes before we finally come to a stop in front of the iconic old hotel. Three more of Messina’s men are waiting by the curb to herd us inside. I don’t bother talking to them. For all I know, they only speak Italian anyway.

We’re delivered to an upper floor suite. I might appreciate the view of Central Park if I wasn’t annoyed as hell and trying to hide it.

Nico and Fort take up an entire white leather sofa while I sink into a blue suede armchair. Two of Messina’s bodyguards stand at the door with identical Sicilian scowls.

Fort, feeling caged, drums his fingers on his denim-covered knee. Nico sprawls comfortably and looks completely at home.

Hidden speakers play classical music at a low volume. The tune sounds familiar, one of those recognizable pieces that’s now mainly heard as a soundtrack in sports car commercials.

Five minutes pass. Ten. Twenty.

Messina’s guards observe us in stoic silence. Fort gets comfortable enough to start dozing off. Nico watches TikTok videos on his phone and occasionally snorts with laughter.

At the thirty minute mark the door finally swings open. Vittorio Messina, dressed like a dapper vampire, stalks into the room. There’s no trace of friendliness when his eyes rake me over but he does give Nico a nod of acknowledgement.

His men flutter around him like anxious hens. I want to laugh. This would not be wise right now.

I rise from my chair as a courtesy but don’t bother to extend a hand. We’re Mafia rivals, not fucking Wall Street partners.

“Julian.” Vittorio stops three feet away and doesn’t blink.

We met once, years ago. I was barely out of high school and accompanying my father on a trip to London. Back then I stayed quietly in my father’s shadow and did not have more than a two word exchange with Vittorio Messina. I get the feeling he remembers anyway.

“Vittorio,” I reply. “It’s a been a long time.”

“So it has.” He drops into a chair and waits for me to sit. “You’re no longer an eager little pup chasing after your daddy. By the way, where is Cassio?”

“He’s plenty busy but sends his regards.”

Vittorio laughs. His laughter is unlike the outbursts from other men. It’s not really laughter at all. It’s a sharp and explosive warning. In this way he reminds me of my father.

“What a nice setup,” Vittorio says. “He gets to relax and haunt his ranch in the wilderness while sending his hopeful heir on missions to fix his mistakes.”

Vittorio is clearly baiting me for entertainment, trying to gauge how quickly I’ll get angry.

I’m not easily baited. However, he’s not finished trying.

The gleam in Vittorio’s eyes becomes sinister. “I’ve heard the mighty Cassio Tempesta prefers to talk to the dead these days. Does he want some help joining them?”

Fort inhales sharply and crouches at the edge of his seat, eyes narrowed, ready to spring into action. I throw him a look.

Stay fucking quiet.

At least I’ve chosen the most even-tempered of my brothers for this trip. I would have had a hell of a time trying to stop Getty from flying across the room and seizing Vittorio by the throat.

“There’s more benefit in our families being allies than enemies,” I say. “Just look at New York. Two years ago a war broke out between families and the whole east coast is still reeling. I have no intention of repeating their mistake.”

“I don’t make mistakes,” he replies with flat disinterest.

“But you don’t want a war either.”

He mulls this over with his head cocked to the side. “If I wanted a fucking war, you’d know it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Yes you will. I’m sure I won’t need to say it twice. You know what war looks like, Julian. There’s no playing fair. War looks like a wedding day massacre on a summer evening.”

Cecilia’s face streaks through my mind. Not as she was back then. I see her as she is now. The desire to be with her is powerful enough to crush my lungs. I won’t allow anything to cause her grief.

“I have no plans to make my wife a widow,” I say.

“Ah, that’s right. You’ve recently married the Grimaldi girl. Not a shock. The shock is that Matthias didn’t burn your whole fucking ranch down for the crime of stealing his little sister. He does have a temper and he seemed a little unhappy when I told him the news.”

Hearing him casually drop the name of Cecilia’s eldest brother catches me off guard. Matthias flew back to New York the morning after the wedding. Given how close we came to hand to hand combat, I had no plans to look him up while I’m in town.

Vittorio responds with a reptilian grin and motion to his guards. The door opens to reveal Matthias Grimaldi. Instead of taking one of the empty chairs, he leans against a wall pillar and surveys me with the warmth of a cobra.

“I didn’t know you had a new boss,” I say to him. Last I heard, Matthias was a lone wolf enforcer, beholden to no one.

If he’s now working for Vittorio Messina, which appears to be the case, this piece of news is unsettling. Why the fuck would the Grimaldi heir consent to being Vittorio Messina’s attack dog? Matthias could have gone home anytime and assumed his status as head of the family.

His stare doesn’t become any friendlier. “It’s been a hell of a month for surprises, hasn’t it, Julian?”

“Your sister would have invited you to the wedding,” I remind him. “She told you so herself. If only you’d bothered to keep in touch with her.”

The comment makes a noticeable impact. Matthias breaks eye contact, choosing to glare out the window instead.

I feel no guilt about being on his bad side but he’s technically my brother-in-law so I need to extend an olive branch.

“Cecilia is my wife now,” I say. “And that makes us family so let’s act like it for her sake.”

He slowly turns his head and regards me in icy silence. Either he’s considering the wisdom of this suggestion or he’s plotting the best way to crush my skull.

Either way, Vittorio appears to be enjoying this little family squabble.

“Are you a fan of New York, Julian?” he asks suddenly.

“A little too crowded for my taste,” I admit.

He nods. “We have that in common. I’ve seen my family, which is what I came here for. There’s no reason to stay. I’m willing to be generous. I’ll forget about your father’s indiscretion. And we can discuss some business opportunities at my villa in Sicily. You’ll come with us, Matthias.”

“Sicily?” Matthias growls. “What the hell am I gonna do in Sicily?”

His boss ignores the question. “Be sure you pack enough to stay for a week.”

“Fuck,” mutters Matthias and sneers in my direction as if this is all my fault.

Vittorio eyes me with clear amusement. He wants to see if I’ll dance when he snaps his fingers. I’d like to wave goodbye and tell him to piss off back to Palermo where he belongs.

I need to get back to Cecilia. I’ve already cut our honeymoon short and given her a reason to doubt how much she means to me.

But I’m here representing the interests of the family. And the family’s interests are best served by flying to Sicily and cementing an alliance with Vittorio Messina.

There will be plenty of time to spend with my wife. What I’m doing now is for our future. This is really the best move I can make to keep her safe. I’ll make it up to her.

“When do we leave?” I ask.