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)
Something flickered in Vittorio's eyes—amusement, perhaps? "Carry on," he said with a small nod. As he turned to leave, I swore I heard him humming the same carol I'd been working on. He caught himself, stopped abruptly, and straightened his shoulders before continuing down the hallway. I grinned at his retreating back. One Luca brother infiltrated by the Christmas spirit. Four to go.
There hadn’t been anything by way of decoration that I’d been able to find, even with the help of a couple of the older staff members. So I’d used the black credit card Dario had given me and ordered everything. And kept ordering throughout the day as I continued to work. It was an exercise in how to turn a sophisticated estate into an homage to commercialized Christmas.
With the staircase finished, I gathered my supplies and moved through the mansion, a woman on a mission. Each grand room presented new opportunities. I hung wreaths on interior doors, their deep green boughs and burgundy ribbons bringing color to the austere hallways. The formal sitting room received garland across its fireplace mantle, accented with pine cones I'd collected from the estate grounds and painted with touches of gold.
And lights. Lots of lights.
The marble floored reception hall felt particularly cold, its vastness swallowing even the grandest decorations. I stood in its center, turning slowly, wondering if anyone had ever danced here, laughed here, felt truly at home in this beautiful, intimidating space.
"More to the left," came a precise voice from the doorway.
I turned to find Alessandro leaning against the frame, his tailored suit impeccable as always. "What?"
He gestured to the wreath I'd hung over the fireplace. "It's a few centimeters off center."
I blinked at him. "You can tell that from across the room?"
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Precision matters."
To my surprise, he crossed to the fireplace and adjusted the wreath himself, his movements careful. When he stepped back, his gaze swept the room. “Looks good.”
I hid a smile as I adjusted the garland to his specifications. "You like what I’ve done?"
He considered it, head tilted slightly. "Maybe. I’m not really sure. We’ve never had Christmas decorations that I can remember. I thought it might make the place feel… cluttered, but I think I might like it.” Coming from Alessandro, this was practically a standing ovation.
By mid-morning, I moved my operation to the kitchen. Here, at least, I felt on solid ground. I laid out ingredients for gingerbread men, the recipe memorized from years of practice. Alongside them, I placed the components for panettone, a nod to the Luca family's Italian heritage. The kitchen staff had given me space, curious but respectful of their boss's wife taking over their domain. Or being in the kitchen at all really.
The room soon filled with the scent of ginger, cloves, and warm butter as I worked. I arranged the first batch of cookies on a decorative plate, dusting flour from my hands as I stepped back to survey my work.
"Don't mind if I do," came Matteo's voice as he seemed to materialize beside me, snatching a gingerbread man from the plate before I could protest.
"Those are for everyone," I said, trying to sound stern but failing. “And you scared the shit out of me, Matteo!”
Matteo grinned as he bit off the cookie's head with a dramatic crunch. "Mmm." He shagged two more before I could stop him.
"Save some for your brothers." I couldn’t help but laugh. These guys were fun when they let their hair down, so to speak. Matteo wasn’t saving anything for anyone he didn’t have to. Especially my cookies.
"They snooze, they lose." But he retreated, leaning against the counter to watch me work. "Didn't take you for the domestic type, Belle."
I shrugged, rolling out more dough. "There's a lot you don't know about me."
"Fair enough." His expression grew more serious. "Dario seems... different since you moved in. Less..."
"Murderous?" I suggested, only half-joking.
Matteo barked a laugh. "I was going to say 'tense,' but sure, we can go with murderous." He snagged another cookie on his way out, winking at my protest before leaving me to my task.
I continued my Christmas campaign through the long morning hours. In the main living room, I arranged bowls of scented pine cones and stacked presents wrapped in gold paper—empty boxes, but they created the right effect. I was balanced precariously on a chair, attempting to drape ribbon across the enormous fireplace mantle, when Gabriel found me.
"Whoa, careful!" He rushed forward as the chair wobbled beneath me.
"I've got it," I insisted, though my grip on the mantle suggested otherwise.
Gabriel steadied the chair with one hand. "Let me help before you break your neck and Dario breaks mine for letting it happen."
Unlike his brothers, Gabriel showed genuine enthusiasm for the decorations. He helped me arrange the ribbon in graceful swoops, then eagerly suggested we add the silver balls I'd brought to hang from the ceiling.