“Right. After my grandfather moved his family away from the mob wars eating up New York’s five families, he intended for this ranch to be a sanctuary. My father carries on the tradition, as do we. This place isn’t the storm, Cecilia. It’s a refuge from the storms.”
She turns her head and studies me. She’s quick to mask her feelings but she’ll need to be far quicker to fool me. Her eyes drift over my chest and glide along my arms, briefly settling on my hands before traveling back up again. Her breath shudders and she squirms in her seat.
I’m extremely confident the flare of attraction between us is mutual. She felt it the instant our eyes met. She feels it now.
No matter how tempted I am, I won’t capitalize yet. I’ll wait until the time is right.
The steering wheel skims through my hands as I take the last bend in the long lane leading to the house. Cecilia’s attention returns to the panorama on the other side of the windshield. The peaks of the mountains look closer than they are. A pair of hawks circle a clearing just south of the corral.
“Are you having a party?” Cecilia sounds wary now that we can see everyone lined up in formations outside the main house.
Cassio Tempesta is immediately distinctive. The tallest man on the scene, my father is dressed all in black and stands in the foreground. He’s joined by Fort and Tye. Mel waits at the bottom of the porch steps.
The wranglers and other ranch staff, led by Miguel, are assembled on the left. They’ve obviously been ordered to clean up for this reception but otherwise they all look like ordinary rough and tumble cowboys.
The line of sinister looking men on the right are trickier to explain.
Then again, I’m sure I don’t need to. Cecilia will recognize them for what they are. It’s a cast of characters that often changes and includes everyone from the security team to visitors in charge of our satellite operations around the country.
My father is putting on a show of dominance in honor of Cecilia’s arrival. The Grimaldis, one of the oldest and most respected Mafia families this side of Sicily, are at our mercy and my father enjoys proving it.
Cecilia frowns with uncertainty, waiting for her question to be answered.
Getty pushes his face between the two front seats. “Youare the party, princess. Hope you’ve got a plan to entertain us.” He plucks at her sweater sleeve. “Get creative. We’re counting on it.”
I pump the brakes hard enough to send him lurching into the dashboard.
“Fucker.” He rubs at his head. “Better become really talented at sleeping with one eye open.”
“Quiet,” I warn him. “Nothing good happens when you try to surprise me, does it?”
An ominous silence follows. I’m sure he’s glaring himself stupid while firing invisible knives into my skull. Let him.
Outside the truck, my father raises one hand in greeting. When people comment on the strong resemblance between us, they’re not just talking about my appearance.
All four of Cass Tempesta’s sons look like our father. We’re tall and powerfully built with matching wavy black hair and dark eyes. We’ve all spent considerable time outdoors and we look it with our hardened hands and sun-kissed skin.
The qualities my father and I share are less tangible. We’re sharp and observant. We’re ruthless when crossed. We’d die for our family. And we won’t hesitate to kill to protect what’s ours.
Cecilia is trying like hell to appear calm but her renewed tension is obvious. She draws deep breaths as I roll to a stop and cut the engine. My father expects her to come to him and he won’t take kindly to waiting.
Cecilia’s soft brown eyes swerve to me and I give her a nod of reassurance. Before I can exit and walk around to her side, Getty dives out of the truck and flings open her door.
“Welcome home,” he says. His grin widens when he sees her flinch. “You belong to us now.”
Cecilia’s fingers fumble with the seatbelt button. I immediately reach over and release it for her. She turns her head and this time there’s skepticism written on her face, along with some dread.
I can understand her reluctance and I’m tempted to offer her some final words of encouragement before she’s thrown to the wolves. However, I’d rather see how she handles the challenge on her own.
Cecilia exits the truck carefully, taking her time, keeping her face pointed down until she’s got both feet firmly planted. Then she slowly raises her head to confront the many eyes focused on her. She’s about to get a crash course in being the center of attention.
By the time I’ve jumped out of the truck, she’s on her way to greet my father. Her shoulders are squared and her chin is up, determination engraved in her attitude. I admire how she can pull it off at the end of a day like this.
“Cecilia.” My father grips her by the shoulders and kisses both of her cheeks. “I haven’t seen you since you were a child. Welcome to Storm’s Eye Ranch. The boys have been looking forward to your arrival.”
She looks tiny and fragile next to my hulking father. I’m sure it’s not easy for her to come up with a greeting that doesn’t sound sarcastic. Technically, she’s here of her own free will.
The key word is ‘technically’.All that hangs in the balance is the life of her twin brother.
