Page 9 of Cruelest Contract
But I can’t ever forget the moment she froze with terror when the choppers came. Without a second thought, I tackled her to the ground and shielded her until the gunfire stopped.
In the aftermath, she turned her head and saw her parents lying among the carnage. A flashback of her agonized face still has the power to twist a knot in my chest.
Over the years I’ve had random nightmares that I didn’t get to her in time, that she panicked and ran toward danger before I could protect her. I always wake up feeling sick.
“After their parents died, Cecilia and the boys were taken in by their grandfather,” my father says. “But she’s been allowed to live on her own for a while. She went to college in Arizona and stayed there. She steers clear of the family business and uses a different last name.” He waits for this information to sink in before continuing. “It’s my understanding she hasn’t yet been informed of her brother’s predicament. Or of the deal to save him.”
“So what if she doesn’t feel like get married?” Tye asks.
“Then her twin brother is living on borrowed time,” I explain. “She has almost no family left. She’ll do whatever it takes to avoid losing him.”
I haven’t laid eyes on this girl in twelve years. She’s a total stranger. But I held her in the worst moment of her life. And I understand the personal toll taken by a loss that profound.
If any of my brothers are ever threatened, I’ll do what’s necessary to keep the executioner away. In my case, that would mean piling up a body count until every threat is eliminated.
Cecilia doesn’t have that option. Protecting her brother will mean marrying a detestable pig.
Outrage sticks in my throat. I’m still distracted when my father reaches into his pocket.
“I’m going to break a rule right now. We won’t be making it a habit.” He pulls out his phone, which is typically forbidden at the table, and starts scrolling. “I’ve already checked into Cecilia. She lives alone, keeps to herself. She doesn’t go out often. A childhood horseback riding accident doesn’t seem to affect her much and her medical records all show a clean bill of health. She’s just a law abiding civilian who stays under the radar and works as an accountant for a local construction company.”
That’s quite a detailed report. My father’s motives are often a mystery, even to me. It’s clear he didn’t just start keeping an eye on Cecilia this week.
He slides the phone over until it’s two inches from my plate. I’m curious enough to snatch it up and take a look.
Once I start looking, I don’t know how to look away.
While we’ve been discussing Cecilia Grimaldi, I kept picturing the girl she used to be. That image is now smashed to smithereens as I get my first glimpse of the woman she’s become.
Her waves of thick reddish brown hair are the same but everything else about her has changed. The photo was taken from the other side of an urban street where she sits alone at a small table outside a café. The youthful roundness in her face has been honed to sculpted perfection. The word ‘pretty’ is deeply inadequate. She’d turn my head anytime, anywhere. She bears little resemblance to the girl I met twelve years ago and yet when I look at her, a powerful sense of recognition strikes.
A hardcover book is open on the table and Cecilia writes on a page with a silver pen. She’s engrossed in her task, taking no notice of the busy setting as her free hand plays with a sectionof her long hair. She’s probably dressed for her office job, all covered up in a dress that’s somewhere between red and pink beneath a buttoned white sweater. Her legs, crossed at the ankle beneath the table, are hidden under tights that match her dress color.
Pinching my fingers on the screen, I zoom in to study her more closely. No matter how many layers she wears, Cecilia’s got a body that doesn’t fucking quit. Her full breasts stretch that dainty sweater out of shape and I can see enough to imagine there’s a lot more fun concealed under all that fabric.
These days I’m so deprived that my cock doesn’t need much inspiration to jerk awake. When I look at this girl, I can imagine running my thumb over her full lower lip. I’d pierce her concentration by pushing her primly locked knees apart. Those tights would get ripped to strings before I hike that dress up over her hips. I’d destroy every little pearl-shaped sweater button and take everything I want.
But the longer I stare, the more I realize my reaction to Cecilia isn’t merely physical.
Of course I’d love to fuck her. Who wouldn’t?
This image of her sitting there alone, scribbling in a book with an untouched croissant sitting on the table stirs my emotions in a weird way. All around her, the tables are full. She’s oblivious to everyone, including the photographer secretly snapping her photo. I’d give a lot to know whether she’s lonely, if she’s content to shut out the world or if she’s secretly wishing for some excitement.
Whatever happens next, Junior Mancini sure as shit isn’t getting within a thousand miles of this girl. The very idea of his grubby fat fingers defiling Cecilia’s body makes my blood turn hot and my fists tighten.
Tye bumps my shoulder and hovers. He gives Cecilia’s photo a grunt of admiration.
“Absolutely fucking would,” he declares and then returns to shoveling food into his greedy mouth.
Getty bangs on the table. “You’re hogging the view. Hand it over, Jul.”
Like hell I will. He can wait. I’m not finished with my appraisal.
But now that the dining room rules are out the window for today, my little brother has decided to push his luck. Getty lunges across the table, trying to snatch the phone out of my hand.
All he succeeds in doing is knocking over a water pitcher. He is always the last of my brothers to learn he’ll never get the better of me.
Chaos erupts. Fort isn’t too pleased about the cascade of ice water that just landed in his lap. In a rare flash of temper, he responds by knocking Getty’s chair over. Getty, sprawled on the ground, kicks Fort in the shin with the heel of his boot.
