Page 19 of Cruelest Contract
Our eyes lock across the short distance. The sudden bone-deep tremor is inexplicable. I knew I’d be seeing him and yet somehow I’m unprepared.
With effort, I shake the feeling off.
Julian leaves Angelo behind without a word and heads this way. His walk is unhurried, his strides long. Angelo is forced to start trotting to keep up.
Julian doesn’t halt until he’s inches away. At five-foot-four I’m not really short but I need to tip my head back to see his face. This feels like a disadvantage.
There’s a trace of dark shadow on Julian’s jaw, hinting that he started the day clean shaven but a rough beard that needs to be tamed daily is starting to win. I bet he has the ability to be fully bearded within a week. He wears a grey button up shirt with the sleeves rolled over his strapping forearms and I forcemy eyes to quit checking out the impressive way he fills out his jeans.
“Welcome to Wyoming, Cecilia.” His voice is like melted butterscotch spiked with whiskey.
I don’t realize my mouth has been hanging open until I try to speak and it comes out in a croak. “Hello.”
Julian’s eyes spark with a deep intelligence but his expression reveals nothing. I’m aware that he’s evaluating me as much as I’m evaluating him. And I suspect he’s far more skilled at the task.
Frankly, I’m at a loss when it comes to proper etiquette as a prospective arranged bride to a man I hardly know. But I’ve got to start somewhere.
Rather than wilt into a tongue-tied puddle under the heat of his gaze, I straighten my spine, refuse to blink, and hold out my hand. “It’s been a while but I remember you, Julian.”
Julian meets my handshake with no hesitation. His palm is warm and calloused and my hand disappears into it. I have no doubt he could crush every finger bone with one squeeze.
He keeps custody of my hand like he’s daring me to pull back first. “We’re all glad you’re here,” he says, his mouth bending into a confident smile.
Why am I watching his mouth at all?
There are a million things to worry about right now and the sexy shape of Julian Tempesta’s full lips isn’t one of them.
I want to yank my hand away. I need to keep a clear head and that’s not happening while I’m this distracted.
When I do finally flex my fingers and relax my hand, Julian takes the hint and releases me. Nearby, Angelo is checking his phone. How nice that he’s got other priorities.
Julian nods to his three brothers. “Cecilia, I’m sure you remember the boys. Tye, Getty and Fort.”
They take turns approaching.
Tye was the first one on the scene, the one who took my suitcase. Now he slides an arm around my shoulders and folds me into a warm but bizarre hug.
Getty holds Louisa’s carrier. He snorts when he sees how stiffly I respond to his brother.
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep my distance,” he says, offering a fist bump and ominously adding, “but only for now.”
I feel preposterous for returning his fist bump. I’m pretty sure that was his objective.
Fort, the youngest of the Tempesta brothers, simply winks and tips the brim of his hat up an inch. He has my tote bag slung over one shoulder.
With no warning, Julian decides to take my purse. There’s a seductive edge to the way his fingers slide the strap down my arm. I get the feeling he’s very aware of this and the move is intentional. He has sized me up and guessed his impact.
“You’re our guest of honor,” he says. “When you’re with us, Cecilia, you don’t need to carry a thing.”
“Nothing at all,” Fort confirms.
“All we want is you,” Getty says.
Why do I feel like every passing second is a new test?
Because it is. I’m being judged on everything from my manners to my appearance.
A line needs to be drawn somewhere and I’m drawing it now.
