Page 63 of Cruelest Contract (Storm’s Eye Ranch)

CECILIA

F lipping to the next clean page, I immediately write ‘CHRISTMAS EVE’ at the top.

Take inventory of the nursery

Check the reheating instructions Enzo left for dinner

Family dinner in the dining room

Keep the peace between my brothers and the Tempestas

Finish wrapping presents

This looks like an ordinary set of goals. Even number four feels well within reach.

Angelo’s surly nature tends to be an obstacle to harmony but he was less combative than usual when he arrived yesterday. And Gabriel seemed determined to paper over Angelo’s rough edges by being overly friendly.

As for the Tempesta boys, Julian must have ordered his brothers to remain on their best behavior. Nobody picked a fight, not even Getty. Maybe it doesn’t hurt that everyone is preoccupied with the blizzard.

I click the pen and shift my gaze to the window. The week I arrived here I imagined the Christmas season as a charming winter scene that could compete with the coziest Hallmark movie.

This is my first winter storm and it’s not at all what I expected. Rather than dainty snowflakes that fall silently and cover the world in a serene white blanket, the wind knocks stinging ice pellets in every haphazard direction. The ground is already uneven as snowdrifts pile up.

A man bundled up all in black crosses the yard at a brisk pace, his face hidden in the upturned collar of his jacket.

He’s one of the Tempestas. Their imposing size isn’t shared by the other men of Storm’s Eye Ranch.

The man I’m looking at might be my husband or any of his brothers.

From here, with his face hidden and all the blowing snow partially blocking the view, I honestly can’t tell.

Julian left our bed very early, long before there was any sign of this bleak grey light in the sky. There are still animals to care for no matter what the weather is doing. Because of the holiday, there aren’t many men left at the ranch to do the work.

He quietly dressed in the dark as I feigned sleep. I didn’t even stir when I felt the fleeting touch of his hand on my shoulder before he left.

I know Julian feels bad about our argument yesterday.

Maybe ‘argument’ isn’t even the right word.

It was more like a ferociously honest debate.

The arrival of my brothers put a temporary end to marital spats but I lost count of how many times I looked up in time to be confronted with my husband’s troubled stare.

If he’s wondering whether I’m going to do something irrational, he can quit wondering. I’m not going to cry or run out or throw a tantrum. I never do.

A hearty thud somewhere inside my belly reminds me that I’m not alone. Two additional kicks quickly follow. I can’t tell if the movements come from one twin or both but I smile.

The heartache of my marriage needs to be set aside. It’s Christmas Eve and soon I’ll be a mother. I have things to do. Feeling sorry for myself accomplishes nothing.

Even my heaviest cardigan doesn’t keep me from shivering. The temperature has plummeted forty degrees since yesterday. Luckily, Julian’s warm flannels leave more room for my belly than my sweater and I doubt he cares how often I borrow them.

His scent, a heady mix of cologne and soap, manages to cling to every piece of fabric he comes into contact with.

I’m addicted to it, often using his pillow when he’s away in order to feel just a little closer to him.

I inhale it now as I button one of his shirts closed and a potent flash of arousal immediately strikes.

Just as quickly, my mood turns sour because the truth is still the truth. No matter how much I ache to have my husband’s love, it wasn’t promised.

Love was not part of Julian’s marriage offer. This hasn’t changed.

Squashing this thought, I leave the room with my pen and a color coded handwritten chart of baby necessities.

The hallway is empty and dim. I helped Mel decorate for the holidays downstairs and I wish we’d decorated the second floor too. Even just a little bit of holiday cheer up here would have made a big difference.

Bypassing the nursery, I walk all the way to the other end of the second floor where my brothers are staying. Both their doors are closed. Gabriel, perhaps sensing that something was off about my mood, pulled me aside yesterday and asked if I was mad that Angelo tagged along on the trip.

No, I’m not mad, not even annoyed. I never expect much from Angelo and so I’m never disappointed.

I couldn’t tell my twin what was really on my mind. Angelo must have known that the original plan was to deliver to me to some skunk named Mancini. Did he object at all? And did Gabe know too?

Probably. Yes, he probably did know.

For months I’ve avoided dwelling on the fact that Gabriel seemed to have no problem with sending me into the lion’s den of the Tempesta world. He might have felt a twinge of discomfort but he never pleaded with me not to go. He never insisted that he’d figure it out for himself.

All this time I’ve hidden from the cold facts about my twin brother. Julian finally forced me to examine them. When Gabriel’s life was in danger, I would have done anything to protect him. But to him, I was expendable.

Loud snoring comes from Angelo’s room. Gabe’s room is silent.

The one inch gap beneath each door is dark.

The hour is still early, barely mid-morning.

And it’s not as if either of my brothers are acclimated to ranch life.

I nearly snort with laughter at the idea of Angelo mucking out the stable in his leather jacket.

With no wish to deal with my brothers at this moment anyway, I return to my original mission.

The room selected for the twins’ nursery is the same one where I stayed when I first arrived.

It’s been completely transformed. The walls have been painted a soothing sage green and the theme is zoo animals.

Two plush giraffe rattles are sitting on the changing table.

They were in the large package filled with presents from Alice that arrived the other day.

I pick one up and squeeze its middle until a high pitched squeak emerges.

The giraffe’s permanent grin is getting on my nerves.

I stick the thing under a receiving blanket.

“What was his crime?” asks a deep voice that captivated me from the day I arrived here.

I turn around to find Julian watching me from the doorway. His hair is wild, he hasn’t shaved, and his eyes are bleary. He still looks so damn gorgeous that I want to weep over the unfairness.

“He smiles too much,” I reply.

Julian smirks and walks into the room. He sets his hands on his hips and gazes around as if he’s never been here before. “You’ve done a lot here.”

“You can thank your brothers for that. Fort painted and put up those wallpaper borders. Getty and Tye put all the furniture together.”

He looks at the identical dark wood cribs on the opposite wall. “That must have been entertaining to watch.”

“It definitely got loud. They kept fighting over the tools. Tye finally gave up and took a nap on the elephant throw rug.”

Julian flashes a smile. My heart skips.

“Sounds about right,” he says. He moves to the nearest crib and runs his hand along the railing. His wedding ring clinks against the smooth wood. His smile has vanished. “Do you regret your choice, Cecilia?”

He isn’t talking about the nursery theme. I rest my hand on the soft flannel covering my belly. Julian watches me with caution. He’s wary, almost fearful of what I might say.

“No,” I tell him as our babies move under my palm. “But the choice was never really mine, was it? You had me figured out from the beginning. Before I even got here. Isn’t that right?”

He doesn’t need to confess but he does it without even blinking.

“Yes. By the time your plane landed I already knew all about you. I knew you loved the color pink and libraries and small towns. I knew you had only one real friend and barely any social life. I knew you liked to sit alone at charming cafes and write in your journal. I knew everything.”

I’d already figured out this was the case but hearing him admit it opens up a whole new can of worms. “You obviously did your homework. Clearly, you wanted to see if I was suitable to play the part of your wife. And I overlooked every single red flag because I was so lonely and so desperate to be part of a family again.” I croak out a humorless laugh. “Pathetic, huh?”

Julian’s fingers curl into a fist atop the crib railing. The face he makes suggests he’s in physical pain. “Yesterday you said you understood everything. But you don’t, Cecilia. You really don’t.”

“Of course I do, Julian. You told me how you felt that night in the bar. I remember every word. You said real love can destroy you, leaving you heartsick with an addiction to memories. You never wanted to fall in love and you knew you could never love me. That’s why I was chosen.”

He stands completely still. I can’t account for the horror on his face or why he looks as if he might vomit. Maybe hearing the stark, unfiltered truth out loud is just too much.

But now Julian’s name is being shouted from somewhere down the hall and within seconds, a breathless Tye appears in the doorway.

“There you are,” he says. “Sonny needs you.”

Julian heaves a deep sigh and looks down while pinching the bridge of his nose. “What is it now?”

“Security system is out. Must be the storm but you know Sonny. He’s still freaking.”

“All of you can freak the fuck out without me!” Julian yells.

Tye pauses over his brother’s furious tone. He looks at me for an explanation. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I say. “Julian, go ahead. This sounds important.”

My husband’s haunted eyes cut to me. “We’re not finished talking.” His voice sounds hoarse, tormented. Very unlike him.

“We’ll talk later,” I say, although I’m not excited to resume this conversation. It’s not a pleasant one.

Meanwhile, there are shouts coming from downstairs and I can hear Sonny carrying on about high winds and calling in the technical team for an emergency repair and no, he doesn’t care that it’s freaking Christmas Eve.

Julian sighs again and suddenly I feel very sorry for him.

It’s impossible not to notice that he gets pulled in so many directions at once, always expected to stay on top of every situation and find a solution.

His broad shoulders already carry a mountain of responsibility. I won’t add to his troubles.

“Are you coming?” Tye asks.

Julian shoots me one more agonized look and I nod.

“It’s fine,” I tell him.

“No, it’s not,” he mutters in misery but he follows his brother.

The sound of their heavy footsteps recedes and I grab a pile of soft yellow and green receiving blankets. They are already folded but I shake them open and then carefully fold them again.

Whenever my nose tickles and my eyes swim with fresh tears, I take deep breaths until I’m in control again.

Then I fold another blanket.