Page 59 of Cruelest Contract (Storm’s Eye Ranch)

JULIAN

T he whiskey shot sits untouched on the bar. My thumb hovers an inch above my phone screen and remains there. I just wanted to see her face and now I’m frozen, powerless to look away.

The photo was snapped on our honeymoon. Cecilia was nestled in a corner of the butterscotch suede sofa in the cabin the morning after our wedding.

I had breakfast waiting for her when she woke up after a wild night consummating our marriage over and over.

We shared a lazy breakfast, then we fucked again.

And again. Finally, we showered together.

I refused to let her help clean up the kitchen from breakfast so she curled up on the sofa with her journal.

Her damp hair hung loose over her shoulders and my favorite flannel shirt was enjoying its finest hour on her soft body.

The look on her face was dreamy and blissful and I silently reached for my phone to immortalize the moment before she noticed.

Cecilia had no idea that I took that picture. She’d never guess I’m sitting here alone in a Las Vegas bar and tracing her face with my eyes while a heavy inner ache refuses to dissolve.

I fucking MISS her.

Being away from my wife is always slow torture.

Whenever I come home, she’s a little bit different.

I’m awed by the changes in her pregnant body.

I’m pained when I don’t see the everyday joy of watching her evolve.

Impending motherhood amplifies every aspect of her beauty.

Sometimes when she’s sleeping beside me I feel the impulse to kiss her awake and beg for forgiveness, even while I’m unsure what I’m asking to be forgiven for.

The prickle of disquiet is nothing new. It first hit me on our wedding day. I haven’t lied to Cecilia. I haven’t betrayed her. Our marriage is exactly what I promised it would be. And yet I cannot escape a secret certainty that I’ve badly wronged her.

With supreme reluctance, I scroll away from her photo and switch over to Sonny’s daily security report.

Cecilia’s friend Alice is still visiting but otherwise nothing stands out.

The surveillance system has been updated and expanded to include more remote parts of the ranch.

Cecilia seems content to stay close to home most days and always has armed protection.

She no longer asks questions about the side of my life away from the ranch.

Now and then I catch her watching me with a puzzled frown.

If she’s worried, she shouldn’t be. Every single recent trip I’ve taken has been a strategic means of solidifying our alliances to ensure our family will not be vulnerable in any way.

As it stands now, challenging us means annihilation. The excruciating lessons of the past only make us stronger. I won’t relax until we are indestructible.

“Drinking your sins away?” growls a deep voice.

Fury and sarcasm in the flesh. Matthias Grimaldi.

I snatch my shot and down it with one gulp. “That ought to do it.”

He grunts, plops his cranky ass down on a neighboring stool and demands a beer. The bartender nervously fumbles and casts a fearful glance this way before successfully filling a glass and sliding it over.

Instead of reaching for his beer, Matthias props his elbows up on the bar and gives me the kind of flat, hostile stare that suggests I owe him money. I’m in no mood for his bullshit and the only reason why I don’t tell him to fuck off is because he’s Cecilia’s brother.

Since it looks like I’ll be stuck here for at least a few minutes, I order a beer as well. Casually, I sweep my eyes around the immediate area to check whether Matthias has brought any buddies along for this chat.

The bar is dim in a classy way with golden accent lighting. Jazz music plays at low volume and fails to completely eclipse the echoes of slot machines from the casino. As hotels go, this place is not bad. It will be a satisfactory addition to our real estate portfolio.

A table full of cackling corporate types definitely aren’t friends of Matthias. Neither is the weepy old man drinking himself into a coma on the opposite side of the bar. As for the boys I brought with me, I’ve already turned them loose in the casino for the rest of the evening.

Satisfied that this confrontation is only between me and the man beside me, I chase the lingering burn of the whiskey with a sip of beer.

“Where’s your boss?” I ask.

“Where’s yours?” he fires back.

Always a difficult son of a bitch. Reminds me of Getty.

Without rolling my eyes, I keep my tone civil. “Once business is done for the day, my father doesn’t have much use for being social.”

He snorts. “You call this being social? When I got here you were dicking around with your phone and drinking alone.”

“And now I have your company. Lucky me.”

He looks away. A muscle in his jaw twitches. He finally picks up his beer, drains half the glass and sets it down with a bang that makes the bartender jump.

“Cecilia was innocent,” he says softly.

“She’s still innocent. And she’s safe.”

His narrowed blue eyes veer in my direction. “She wasn’t supposed to be part of this. I kept my distance from her all these years to give her a chance at a normal life.”

“Did you ever stop to think about what she wanted?”

Instead of answering that question, he answers an earlier one. “Vittorio is flying back to Sicily in the morning. He knows he got the better end of the deal by handing you this hotel in exchange for more useful resources. He’s got no use for Vegas, says it’ll be irrelevant in ten years.”

Matthias has just uttered a much longer string of words than I’ve ever heard him use at once. To my surprise, he also sounds intelligent.

“Vegas’s best years are ahead,” I argue. “The downturn is temporary.”

Matthias shrugs. “Maybe.”

“I’m sure you’re aware that your grandfather’s a little salty that you’re working for Vittorio instead of him.”

“Yeah, I’m aware. But if he chokes on his fucking tongue in his sleep I won’t shed a tear.”

“What happened between you?” I ask. “Why did you leave the family?”

Curiosity has gotten the better of me. I don’t expect him to answer.

Again, Matthias surprises me. He rubs a hand over his jaw and takes a moment to compose his answer before speaking.

“He ordered me to get married again. It was less than three months after Daniela’s death.

The bastard had a bride all picked out. The daughter of a Bratva family in San Francisco.

The deal was already made. When I refused, the old man said I was dead to him.

Too late for him to take that back now.”

“Grimaldi hasn’t done himself any favors over the years. He’s burned so many bridges he’s about to drown.”

Matthias lifts an eyebrow. “Rumor has it you’ve seized control of his coastal territory.”

I’m reluctant to respond. The old man left us with little choice.

His grip on his own network was becoming too erratic.

With the Bratva and various cartels hungry to jump on any opportunity, we stepped in rather than risk losing that crucial port control.

Many of our deals, including the one we just made with Vittorio Messina, depend on coast access for various imports, both legal and illegal.

“We did what we had to do,” I tell Matthias.

The details are none of his business. Angelo and his grandfather aren’t finished throwing a tantrum but so what? Grimaldi probably only has a few months to live, if that. And Angelo can be bought off. He just wants to squawk for a little while first.

Sometimes I forget that Cecilia’s twin, Gabriel, is also part of the equation.

Since Gabriel hasn’t called to scream a colorful string of curses in my ear, I’ll assume he isn’t too bent out of shape.

I’ll find a job for him if that’s what his sister wants.

Something that will keep him out of trouble and out of my hair.

Matthias seems amused by the news of his grandfather’s humiliation. “I’m sure the old man hates you for that.”

“I’m sure he does.”

His smirk fades. “I don’t hate you, Julian.”

“I’ll try to temper my gratitude.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he says with a snort. “I showed up at the ranch ready to break your spine over my knee.”

Fat fucking chance of that. However, I hold my tongue when my gaze snags on his right arm. Matthias has decorated himself with a chaotic collection of ink, as if he randomly chooses designs based on his current mood. But the name Daniela runs the length of his forearm.

Twelve years ago, I watched Matthias pledge eternity to a beautiful girl in a white dress. Hours later, she was lying in a pool of blood. He also lost his parents that day, same as Cecilia, but one look at the name carved into his skin shows what broke him the most.

He and my father have this in common. My father was forced to pick himself up because he had us boys to deal with. For Matthias, there’s only a void. And the future he should have had.

A deep crunch of sympathy in my chest doesn’t exactly make me feel affection for the man. However, I can’t despise him either.

Losing Cecilia in that way would be unimaginable. I know I couldn’t cope. I can’t blame Matthias for whatever he’s become. I’d turn into a monster too.

As quickly as the thought arrives, I drive it away and ban it from returning.

“If you don’t want to be like me, then don’t fucking be like me.”

No, I won’t be like Matthias and I won’t be like my father because I’ll never lose my wife. No matter the cost, Cecilia will be protected. I’m out here fortifying every layer of defense, eliminating every threat. I won’t stop.

As the silence stretches, Matthias’s brow creases. “Look, I didn’t know about Mancini at the time. Now I do. My grandfather would have handed her off to that pig without a second thought.”

“She doesn’t know that,” I point out.

His eyes study my face, judging for a long moment. “Good,” he finally says. “Keep it that way.”

I flag the bartender down for another beer. I order one for Matthias too.

He polishes the second beer off within a minute. “You’re close to your brothers,” he says and it’s not a question. He sounds strangely curious.

“Always have been,” I say. “What about your brothers? You don’t keep in touch with Gabriel and Angelo, do you?”

“My grandfather has kept them under his wing, away from me. And Cecilia…” He trails off with a wince.

“Cecilia is perfect,” I assure him. “She’s smart and beautiful and she can stand up for herself.” I hesitate, wondering if I have the right to share this news. “She’s pregnant. I don’t know if you’ve heard.”

He nods. “Yeah, I did hear.”

“Twins. Due in March.”

He nods again but either the subject or the alcohol has mellowed him a bit and now he simply appears thoughtful, not angry.

After one more beer, Matthias doesn’t stick around. He’s flying back to New York early in the morning.

But even after he climbs off his stool, he’s hesitant to leave. “Please tell my sister that I said congratulations on the twins.”

“I will. But she probably wouldn’t mind hearing it from you directly.”

“Maybe,” he mutters and walks away. I watch him disappear into an elevator and then check the time.

It’s after ten p.m. I wish I hadn’t put off calling Cecilia. Tired from the pregnancy, she turns in early these days. I can’t risk waking her with a text or a call. She deserves to get as much rest as possible.

Instead, I scroll through my phone apps until I find the one I’m looking for and place yet another order for a flower arrangement, selecting the largest one available to be delivered tomorrow morning.

Even if I can’t be home every day to hold my wife the way I want to be, I can fill her world with pretty things on a regular basis to show her how much I care.

She’ll like that.