Page 138 of Cruelest Contract
“When you become some oracle of wisdom?”
He looks at me. A sudden gust of wind is significantly colder, a precursor to the impending weather.
“Let’s get back,” he says. “If it’s your wife you’re worried about, she’s not out here.”
A flash of irritation hits. Instead of reacting, I push it aside. Getty isn’t exactly known for his keen insight but it’s true that Cecilia is waiting back at the house. I left to help with storm prep this morning before she even woke up.
Three days ago, I arrived home and Cecilia greeted me cautiously, asking whether I planned to stay for Christmas. I’ve told her all along I’d be home for Christmas and New Year’s. Why would she think I’d abandon my own promise?
Only young Caleb is left in the stable. His family still lives on the outskirts of Vigilance but he’s asked to stay in the clubhouse over the holidays. I make a mental note to remember to invite him inside for dinner.
“Want me to take her?” Caleb asks, already reaching for the horse, eager to be useful, and I hand Trixie off to him.
Omerta’s stall is still empty but Cecilia’s horse pokes her head out, hoping for a treat. All I can find are some carrots and she daintily takes them from my hand one at a time.
Cecilia’s pregnancy is now too advanced for even mild horseback rides. However, I’m told that she often leads the horse around the corral for some exercise. Every time I think of the day I came home to the sight of her sitting proudly in the saddle, overcoming her fears and glowing with happiness, my chest gets tight.
That was the day she said she wanted to start a family. Though I was stunned by the fact it happened so quickly, I have no regrets. More than anything, I hope she doesn’t either.
Sometimes I feel like there are two animals, equally fierce, battling inside me for different causes.
One cannot stand being away from Cecilia and fights to never leave her side.
The other insists on hunting for any conceivable threats to my wife’s safety and cutting them to bloody pieces before they can even think about striking.
The second beast always wins. There can be no peace until I’m able to guarantee I’ll never have a reason to speak to a painting for the rest of my life.
Miguel and most of his boys have already cleared out and the temperature continues to drop. Everyone who plans to leave better get moving before nightfall. Once whiteout conditions hit, no one is going anywhere.
The ranch already feels like a ghost town as I walk at a brisk pace from the stable toward the house. Sonny took two of his men to Laramie to retrieve the Grimaldi boys when their flight lands. I’m not especially looking forward to their arrival but if Gabriel can bring a smile to my wife’s face then I’ll be grateful.
Pausing in my tracks, I take stock of the desolate ranch scene. The corrals are all empty and there are no cowboys or Mafia soldiers loitering around. The stately one story brick building where the cowboys live looks deserted. From here I can only see the roof of the old ranch house where Sonny runs the security team.
But no matter how intently I squint at the trees in the distance, I can’t see any hint of the cabin by the creek where Cecilia and I spent our short honeymoon. There’s no limit to how many times a day I think back on those perfect days and wish I could relive them.
Just as I’m coming up the steps to the porch, I run into Mel as she emerges from the house. Tye is right behind, carrying her suitcase on his shoulder like it’s a duffel bag.
“Merry Christmas, Julian,” she says and I bend down so she can kiss my cheek.
“Have a safe trip,” I tell her.
She pats my arm and gazes up at me with wistful adoration. “Cecilia says the babies have been kicking nonstop today.” Laughter bubbles out of her. “Sounds like they’ll come out fighting. We can only hope they are willing to stay put for another couple of months.”
I look at the closed front door. “Speaking of Cecilia, have you seen her?”
“I just brought her some tea in her office,” Mel says. “Oh, and two of the guest suites are ready for the Grimaldi brothers. I put them all the way at the end of the second floor south hallway, like you requested.
Mel insists on tracking down Getty and Fort to say goodbye before she leaves. It occurs to me that I should have asked her if she’s noticed Cecilia’s somber mood. Too late for that now. I don’t want to hold her up. I’ll just go speak to Cecilia myself.
My fingers are finally starting to stiffen from cold exposure. I flex the circulation back into them as I peel off my coat and walk through the front door.
Every square foot of this house is as familiar to me as my face in the mirror. But I can understand why a newcomer would find this place intimidating. I should have had more sympathy for the challenging position Cecilia was in when she arrived. Trying to win her over with flowers and cake and customized cowboy boots now strikes me as conceited. Superficial. Fucking inadequate.
The aroma of food is heavy in every room. Enzo cooked and baked like crazy over the past two days to ensure we’d have no shortage of meals while he spends the holiday week in Miami.
On the way to Cecilia’s office, I pass the glass doors leading to the pool. My father yielded when I stubbornly demanded the pool installation for Cecilia’s physical therapy. The contractors were under orders to spare no expense. The enclosed heated room with floor to ceiling fortified glass windows, multiple lap lanes and a waterfall looks fit for an emperor.
My brothers are enjoying the newest luxury feature and I’ve been assured Cecilia uses it a couple of times a week but I have yet to set foot in there. I’m just not home often enough and whenever I’m here, there are more important chores on my list than floating around in chlorinated water.
