Whenever my nose tickles and my eyes swim with fresh tears, I take deep breaths until I’m in control again.
Then I fold another blanket.
33
CECILIA
At some point, Angelo woke up and decided to go exploring alone. I find him standing in the middle of the kitchen, wearing only a black leather jacket and plaid pajama pants while stuffing his face with a batch of Enzo’s chocolate chip muffins.
“Plates exist,” I say with no small degree of grumpiness and fetch a small dessert plate from the cupboard.
Angelo waves off the plate I offer him. “Don’t need that shit,” he says and spills an avalanche of crumbs on the floor.
I leave the plate on the counter. “What are you doing down here?”
He pops an entire muffin into his big mouth and talks while chewing. “I was fucking starving. There’s no breakfast served in this place?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a blizzard outside. Most of the ranch staff left for the holidays but the animals still need to be cared for. Why don’t you go help?”
Angelo’s chewing pauses and he looks at me as if I’ve just suggested he ought to become a ballerina. “I’m not into cowboy shit,” he whines.
I roll my eyes. “Our loss.”
“Hey, you want some?” He holds out the bowl of muffins and gestures to my belly. “I mean, you look like you’re eating for a whole litter there so you should probably keep up.”
He’s never polite but he’s always consistent. Anyway, I am kind of hungry so I pluck a muffin from the remaining pile.
I nibble at the sweet edge. “Is Gabe still asleep?”
Angelo shrugs and polishes off another muffin. “Yeah, I guess. How come there’s no coffee?”
I doubt he has any intention of making it himself and I don’t feel like wasting time with an argument. I’m not a fan of coffee, always preferring tea, and I need to be careful with caffeine in pregnancy anyway. After tinkering with some buttons on the intimidating Jura machine, I manage to brew enough to fill a cup and hand it over to Angelo.
He accepts the mug and miraculously mumbles out, “Thanks,” before gulping the contents.
The refrigerator is a customized Italian model with bells and whistles that I don’t even understand. It’s huge enough to serve any commercial kitchen and every time I pry open the stainless steel doors I’m awed.
Enzo has done outstanding prep work. The shelves are stacked with securely packaged foil trays and printed heating instructions are taped to the lid of each one. I’ll get Tye to help me decide what to serve for dinner.
“Is Grandfather spending Christmas alone?” I don’t bother to hide the bitterness in my voice as I shut the refrigerator door.
Angelo slurps more coffee. “He’s not into holidays. You know that. He barely knows what fucking day it is anyway. He’ll have the servants for company while he shakes his fist and screams.”
Something about his own comment strikes him as funny and he chuckles out loud.
I can’t forget what Julian said about recent tension between our two families. Or how he called the Grimaldis ‘irrelevant’. No details have been offered and it’s not as if I can count on Angelo to be truthful.
Anyway, my loyalty to my husband would never allow me to ask.
Angelo leaves his dirty coffee mug on the counter and wanders off to go scratch his balls or whatever the hell he does to entertain himself.
A strong gust of icy wind scrapes against the kitchen window. The snow is so thick I can hardly see the shadowy outbuildings in the distance.
With a sudden shudder of apprehension, I wonder about Luna, if she’s safe and warm. Fort already assured me the barn and stables are amply heated in the winter but I wish I could go see her. Petting my horse and gazing into her soft, sympathetic eyes is always medicine for my soul.
The kitchen is too cold and empty to linger here. Since coming downstairs, I’ve only seen Angelo. As I walk through the house, all is quiet. Angelo has disappeared and I’m guessing the Tempesta men are outside. The emergency weather alerts on my phone repeatedly warned against going outside during the storm. I hate the thought of Julian being out there and my pulse flutters with anxiety.
The house looks beautiful. Pine garlands are threaded through the polished wood staircase spindles, festooned with gold-edged red ribbons and twinkling white lights. Every light fixture is draped with greenery and ribbons. Giant wreaths are hung in each common area and all the fireplace mantles are covered with evergreen swag and candlesticks.
