Page 18 of Cruelest Contract
Angelo breaks for the exit the instant the stairs are lowered. He doesn’t even look back.
“Nothing but chivalry,” I mutter while wrangling my handbag, my travel tote and Louisa’s cat carrier. My suitcase has wheels but it’s not easy to manage with an armful of other crap. It’s also extremely heavy thanks to the fact that I stuffed my favorite weighted blanket in there.
The lone flight attendant takes pity and helps me get to the bottom of the steps but then I’m on my own. Louisa yowls inside her cat carrier. A harsh wind blows my hair into my eyes.
I don’t see Angelo’s black leather jacket anywhere and I’m staggering under the weight of all my cargo with no clue if I’m heading in the right direction. I’m not expecting my suitcase to be suddenly abducted but that’s exactly what happens.
“I’ll take that for you, ma’am,” says a deep voice as another blast of wind fans my hair across my face. The handle of the suitcase is plucked from my cramped fingers before I utter a sound.
Louisa’s carrier is taken from me next.
“Let me get this.” A second deep voice doesn’t exactly ask for permission before stealing my cat.
Then I spin around and feel the weight of the travel tote leave my arm.
“Way too much for a lady to carry,” chuckles my latest ‘helper’.
Somehow I’m surrounded by men. I don’t know where they came from but they have cowboy hats, muscled forearms and dark eyes flashing with mischief.
Recognition spikes.
Of course I know who they are, even if I can’t tell right away which one is which.
I’m only able to snatch a handful of quick glimpses as I battle the wind, my hair and general bewilderment. It’s still enough to feel grudgingly awed.
Time has heaped a lot of rewards on the Tempesta brothers.
They were always tall. Now they are taller.
They were always good looking. They’ve catapulted to ridiculous status.
There’s not a flaw in sight. With similar strong jawlines, defined cheekbones, olive-toned complexions and powerful frames, there’s no hiding the fact that they are brothers.
But no one would guess they are Mafia princes. They’ve broken from the trend of dark suits and expensive shoes in favor of rugged cowboy charm with boots, hats and blue jeans. Ranching life is serious for them.
The three brothers who accosted me on the tarmac now stand back to observe me with impenetrable expressions. I can’t put my finger on the reason, but I feel as if I’m about to become a source of endless amusement for them.
“HEY!” Angelo’s bark demands my attention.
He stands roughly twenty feet away, his posture broadcasting impatience as he waves me over, presumably to meet the man at his side.
I start to take a step in that direction and then change my mind.
I’m tired. I’m pissed. I have no clue what to expect next and now a bunch of men are staring at me.
If that jackass brother of mine has something to say then let him walk over here and say it. I cross my arms and stay rooted in place.
Angelo lowers his arm and gives me a ‘What the fuck?’ shrug.
My eyes swing to the other man.
What happens next is both invisible and electric.
I’m reminded of a childhood visit to Newport Beach where my parents had rented a summer house right on the water. We had stopped for lunch at a fish taco place and I elbowed Gabe to show him that the actor from our favorite show about a high school detective agency had just walked in.
This sudden, powerful rush is not unlike the surge of awed shock in that fish taco shop. Standing within arm’s reach was a real flesh and blood person who had lived rent free in my head for ages.
Naturally, Julian Tempesta isn’t a celebrity. And I’m no longer a wistful preteen with a crush. The flutter in my belly has everything to do with the fact that Julian once risked his life to save mine. I was nobody to him and yet he shielded me from death. He did his best to keep me from seeing the horrors that will haunt me no matter where I am or how many years pass. Maybe an experience like that cements you to the one you share it with, whether you like it or not.
