Page 35 of Cruelest Contract
Duh.IAM being watched.
Instead of pulling an Alice and flipping the camera off, I withdraw and walk away. For all I know, they are watching me right now. I need these people to help my brother. Getting on their bad side isn’t an option.
Silence reigns as I descend the stairs. As I reach the final step I hear the muffled clink of glass, likely coming from the distant kitchen. Yesterday I was a bit too dazed to notice details. For the first time I see an enormous animal skull mounted above the wide front door. Huge horns curve from either side of its head. The dead animal’s wide leer seems to follow me as I leave the vast foyer and make a left, just as Tye instructed.
The floor is bare in this part of the house and my new boots click loudly on the hardwood. Tye said his father’s study would be down this hallway, first door on the right.
I pause in front of a wall mirror and confront my wide-eyed, nervous reflection.
“Cecilia,” booms a baritone voice. “In here.”
My fingers fly to the locket around my neck, rubbing the smooth shape for strength.
For Gabriel. I can do this.
Cassio Tempesta waits behind a mammoth desk along the back wall of his study. He has already encouraged me to call him ‘Cass’ instead of ‘Mr. Tempesta’ but I’m having some difficulty. He removed his black cowboy hat during dinner but otherwise it appears to be a wardrobe staple. He beckons with impatience, urging me to come closer.
The aroma of perfumed smoke is dense in this room. A memory tickles the back of my brain. My father puffing on a cigar as my brothers and I toasted marshmallows in the backyard firepit. And my mother laughing at him to ‘throw those awful things away’.
“Good morning,” I say, keeping my head up and looking him in the eye. Something tells me this is a quality he values.
Cass plucks a toothpick out of his mouth. It lands with a plink in the metal ashtray on his desk.
“Good morning, Cecilia,” he finally says. “Take a seat and let’s talk.”
The nearest chair is parked directly in front of his desk, practically under his nose. Looking for an alternative will be seen as weakness. I don’t need to be told that weakness is not acceptable here.
Once I’m seated with my legs crossed at the ankle and my hands folded in my lap, I can take better stock of my surroundings. This room possesses the same Dark Westernconcept as the rest of the house. Heavy velvet drapes are pulled over the windows. Tye winks at me from where he’s sprawled on a sofa the color of whiskey.
“Found your cat,” says Fort. He’s lounging in an overstuffed leather armchair and gestures to the far side of the room.
I turn my head and nearly fall down.
Getty is sitting in a chair that’s identical to Fort’s. He’s not alone.
Louisa, who disdains all human contact and hisses at anything that moves, is actually coiled up in his lap like she belongs there.
I’m speechless.
Ever since I brought her home, this cat feeds me a steady diet of withering glares. Then we come here and she immediately chooses the most unpleasant of the Tempesta brothers as her new BFF.
Seriously, what gives?
Has she been hypnotized? Did the air travel scramble her little cat brains?
Louisa tilts her head and eyeballs me with detached curiosity, as if we are complete strangers.
“Is she…purring?” I manage to sputter when I hear an odd rumble.
Getty smiles at my shock and scratches my cat behind her ears. He doesn’t answer, like he knows his silence is the response that will result in maximum discomfort.
Louisa kneads her paws on the arm of the chair. Her purring grows louder.
I’d be lying if I said the rejection didn’t sting just a little.
Meanwhile, I’m keenly aware that I’ve been scrutinized by Cass Tempesta’s cold eyes since I stepped into the room. It takes a lot of self-discipline not to fidget or rub my palm over my bad knee.
My grandfather used to yell sharply whenever he caught me squirming. If we happened to be at the dinner table, he’d smack my hand and order me to get out of his sight.
