Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 65987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
"The light distribution is uneven," he announced, stepping into the room. "The left side has fewer lights than the right."
I exchanged a glance with Dario, who rolled his eyes almost imperceptibly. "Feel free to correct our amateur efforts," Dario told his brother, a challenge in his voice.
To my surprise, Alessandro removed his suit jacket, carefully folded it over a chair, and rolled up his sleeves. "Someone has to ensure this doesn't become an aesthetic disaster." Yep. Just like kids.
Soon Alessandro was meticulously arranging ornaments by color and size, creating a precise pattern that somehow enhanced rather than diminished the tree's natural beauty. Gabriel continued placing ornaments with enthusiastic abandon, the brothers' contrasting styles somehow working together.
"What's this, a family craft project?" Matteo's sardonic voice came from the doorway. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, expression caught between amusement and disdain.
"Either help or leave," Dario said without looking up from the strand of lights he was untangling. “But don’t run your yap unless you’re helping.”
Matteo scoffed but wandered into the room, pretending to examine his phone while surreptitiously picking up a crystal snowflake. When he thought no one was watching, he hung it on the tree, then immediately returned to his performance of disinterest.
I smiled to myself, continuing to pass ornaments to Gabriel while Dario and Alessandro debated the merits of colored lights versus white ones. The transformation wasn't just in the villa but in the men themselves, these dangerous, powerful brothers bickering over Christmas decorations like any normal family.
A hush fell over the room as Vittorio appeared in the doorway. Unlike his brothers, he made no pretense of critique or enthusiasm. He simply watched for several long moments, his expression unreadable. Just as I began to worry he might disapprove, he walked to a small table near the entrance and picked up a box I hadn't noticed before.
"This should be at the top," he said, his deep voice resonating in the quiet room. He opened the box to reveal a star, silver and crystal, clearly antique and exquisitely crafted.
Dario went still beside me. "Father's star," he said softly. "I didn't know you had kept it."
"Some traditions are worth preserving," Vittorio replied, his usual stoicism softened by something almost like sentiment.
The brothers exchanged a look laden with emotion. Then Dario nodded and took the star, climbing the ladder to place it at the top of the tree. The moment felt sacred somehow, a connection to their past that transformed our present. As Dario descended, I noticed Marcus watching from the doorway, his ever-present vigilance not diminished by the holiday setting. But even his stoic expression had softened, one eyebrow raised in surprise as he observed his boss fussing with Christmas ornaments. When Dario caught him looking, Marcus gave a small nod that somehow conveyed both approval and amazement at the transformation. Dario returned the nod, a silent communication passing between them.
The tree was nearly finished, glittering with lights and ornaments, the heirloom star crowning the top. I reached into the last box and pulled out a delicate glass angel, its wings spun from the thinnest strands of glass, face peaceful and serene.
"One more," I said, holding it out to Dario.
He took it carefully, turning the fragile ornament in his hands. Without a word, he selected a branch near eye level and placed the angel with a gentleness that made my heart swell. When he stepped back, his expression had softened completely, the hard edges melting away.
I slipped my hand into his, and he squeezed it gently, both of us gazing at the magnificent tree, a perfect blend of his family's traditions and my determination to bring warmth to this place and this family. My family. Around us, the Luca brothers continued adding final touches, their voices a blend of reminiscence and unexpected joy.
"Thank you," I whispered to Dario.
He looked down at me, eyes reflecting the twinkling lights. "For what?"
"For letting me bring Christmas to Villa Luca. For joining in. For..." I gestured to his brothers, now arguing good-naturedly about the proper placement and amount of tinsel. "For this."
Dario's arm slid around my waist, pulling me close against his side. "Thank you for showing us how," he said simply, pressing a kiss to my temple.
At that moment, surrounded by twinkling lights and pine scent, with this dangerous, complicated man at my side and his equally dangerous family gathered around us, I felt something I hadn't expected to find in Villa Luca. The true spirit of Christmas, the sense of belonging to something larger than myself. A family. My family.
Chapter Eighteen
Belle
I smoothed my hands over the deep green silk of my gown, the gold embroidery catching the light as I stepped through the doors of The Gray. My heart hammered against my ribs like it was trying to escape, but I kept my chin up, shoulders back. This wasn't the same club where I'd mixed drinks and dodged wandering hands. Tonight, I was entering as Dario Luca's wife, and the weight of that title pressed on me.