CHAPTER 21
Edoardo
Christmas arrives, and I welcome it as a clean escape - one made possible by the quiet lifeline Stefano extended to me. We say our goodbyes to our parents and take separate routes: Elena to Brazil for ten days, and me to the Alps.
The week with my parents hadn’t been as bad as I’d feared.
The long, brutally honest conversation we had before leaving for Lake Como had cleared some of the static between us.
Still, I can sense they’re not ready to let go, not yet.
Every time I return to Milan, I know I’ll have to restate my boundaries, reinforce my warning, and stand my ground all over again.
“Hey, my transfer is here. See you in a few hours, buddy,” I text Stefano.
We haven’t spoken much over the past two weeks. Time zones, and his whirlwind between New York and San Francisco with Gigi and her family have seen to that. If his schedule holds, he, Gigi, and Connor should already be arriving at the resort.
“Great, see you soon. Just landed.” Stefano texts me right back.
Perfect. I can’t wait to spend real time with my best friend.
And Gigi is effortless to be around, warm and grounding.
And Connor, the glacier guy. I’ll be spending time with him too.
I like him, whether as Gigi’s brother or Caroline’s best friend.
He works like a machine, and aside from being spectacularly wrong about his ex, he has a rare clarity when it comes to people.
You can see it in the circle he’s built: the people he employs, treats like family, and chooses to keep close.
I admire that, perhaps more than I care to admit.
My thoughts drift in and out during the drive.
I send holiday messages alongside our gallery’s official cards to Amina, Nadine, Clive, Xander, and the rest of our close friends and collaborators.
Elena had been invaluable, helping curate personal crafts and small Milanese items for our gallery teams.
Fourteen galleries now, with London newly added.
The market has been whispering for years that I’m building an art empire, an institution even.
With each opening, the caliber rises, and expectations soar right along with it.
Aside from Milan and London, I’m no longer involved in daily operations.
Soon, once London is solid and fully independent, I’ll open another location, then loosen my grip and let Lisa or someone equally capable in my operations take over entirely.
The galleries are divided into zones, and my zone directors have proven themselves nothing short of exceptional: efficient, relentless, deeply invested.
The system works. The galleries are flourishing thanks to zone directors, gallery directors, and curator teams working collaboratively and tirelessly.
They know working for me isn’t easy. I’m demanding.
But I give them autonomy, room to grow, and the recognition they earn.
Next year, I’m eyeing another location in Asia.
Perhaps the year after, America. Still, I don’t want this to become a bloated corporate machine.
I tell myself I’ll stop once it reaches the right scale.
And yet, here I am, sitting in the back of the car, already scribbling ideas - new artists-in-residence, global fairs, museum partnerships mapped out over the next five years. These few hours of quiet feel like a gift: rare, uninterrupted peace to think and build.
By the time we pull into the ski resort, I’ve drafted pages of executive direction, clear outlines of which artists to feature, where and how to position them, and which global fairs we’ll anchor ourselves in.
Good. I’m ending the year on a high note.
Now, it’s time for something else entirely - the exhilaration of the slopes with Stefano. We’ve done this nearly every other year for as long as I can remember. A tradition. One I share with my best friend.
My suite is ready. My private concierge directs me toward the elevator while my ski gear is taken care of without question. Everything is seamless. And yet -
Something shifts.
A laugh floats through the air, warm and familiar. I turn toward the fire-lit coffee bar at the far end of the lobby.
“Edoardo!” Gigi rushes toward me after placing her steaming mug down, the sweet aroma of coffee trailing behind her.
“Hello, Gigi.” I pull her into a hug. “Merry Christmas.”
Then, all of a sudden, Caroline’s head snaps up. Our eyes meet, and for a moment the rest of the room disappears. I grin.
I had no idea she’d be here and I don’t think she was expecting me either.
My winter escape, my carefully planned retreat, is suddenly something else entirely. Far more exhilarating than I anticipated. The best kind of surprise.
“Hi, Caroline. Hi, Connor,” I say, walking toward them with Gigi. “Merry Christmas.”
Connor stands and pulls me into a hug. When I turn to Caroline, I catch the amused glint in her eyes.
“I had absolutely no idea you were going to be here,” I murmur into her ear. “But I’m really glad you are.”
“Stefano?” she whispers back. “He didn’t mention a thing about you when he invited me.”
Gigi, clearly aware of our quiet exchange, smiles with open mischief. “We didn’t know Caroline was joining until she confirmed two days ago. Then it was all packing and flying.”
“Ah.” Caroline doesn’t look entirely convinced.
“Coffee? Tea? Pastries?” Connor offers, gesturing toward the spread. “I’ve got two Turkish coffees, special of the week, a pot of medium-roast black coffee, and some black tea.”
“Thanks, Connor.” I sit, pour myself a small cup of black coffee, and reach for a chocolate croissant. It’s divine.
Caroline slips back into conversation with Connor, but I can feel her attention drifting my way. Later, we exchange a quiet message through a glance.
“Edoardo!” Stefano bursts out of the elevator and tackles me where I sit. “You’re even early.”
“I leave our Italian traits at home for you, bro,” I laugh. “Merry Christmas, and thanks for having me.”
“Your room good?” He drops beside Gigi, fingers already laced with hers, lips brushing her cheek.
“Haven’t seen it yet,” I say lightly.
“We grabbed Edoardo the moment he walked in,” Gigi explains.
“Ah. Same room as every year,” Stefano nods. “Let me know once you check in.”
“You skiers and your ski trips,” Caroline says, picking at her Danish. “I’m exhausted just thinking about winter. All I want this time of year is crystal-clear water and warm wind on my face.”
I raise a brow. “You don’t ski? Lake Tahoe is right there. And it’s incredible.”
“I can ski,” she says. “Correction, I can barely ski. I just never grew to like it. I’ve tagged along plenty of times to Lake Tahoe or Colorado so these two could ski,” she gestures at Gigi and Connor, “and then they’d come with me, Adam, and Ethan to Hawaii or the Virgin Islands.”
“A lot of compromise on both ends,” I smile.
Stefano shrugs. “Glad we never had to divide vacations like that.”
“CJ and I love the beach too, so the sacrifice is really just Caroline being dragged to ski resorts with us.” She says and blows Caroline a kiss.
I don’t need to ask to know the truth: Caroline is here for Connor.
He stays polite, immaculate as always, but quieter than usual. There’s a carefulness to him now, a restraint that wasn’t there before. And his eyes, still sad, still hollow. The eyes of someone who spent years resisting love, only to be caught in it at last and then have it slug him in the face.
I hope I never end up like that. I’m a relationship person - that’s the difference between us. I don’t orbit love; I walk straight into it. I shouldn’t ever be in that position then.
Stefano’s parents join us shortly after, having arrived a few days earlier to ski. I stay for a quick lunch, then excuse myself while the rest of them head back out to the slopes.
Tomorrow, I’ll join them. For now, I need a shower after hours of sitting in the car. Then I’ll sort my gear for the buttery soft snow waiting outside and head downstairs for the Christmas feast when everyone is done with their runs.
Except the day’s surprises aren’t done with me yet.
I step out of the long, hot shower to find a message from Caroline waiting on my phone.
“Spa in the back of the resort if you’d like to join me. In an hour. Let me know and I can add you to the reservation.”
“You don’t ski with them?” I text her back
“Didn’t even bring gear. I come to spa, eat, drink, read, sleep, repeat.” A cascade of laughing emojis follows.
“Your room number?” I ask her.
“Poke your head out of the door. Let’s find out that way. More fun.”
“A moment.” I smile, tug on my jeans and sweater, and open my door only to find her already there. Green eyes locked on mine. Amused. Expecting.
We both laugh.
Her room is right next to mine. Of course it is. Stefano always reserves entire floors for us; distance was never going to be an option.
I don’t waste a second. I stride into her room, and the moment the door clicks shut behind me, I pull Caroline into my arms.
“It’s been two weeks,” I murmur before kissing her deeply.
She answers with a starving kiss of her own. Our mouths crash together, desperate and greedy. Tongues tangle, wicked and relentless. I press her back against the wall, our bodies locking together like they’ve been missing this exact shape.
“Leather,” I murmur, pulling back just enough to nip her lower lip. “That scent.”
She smiles into my mouth. “Tuscan leather.”
I lean back to take her in fully. “We should go to Tuscany. A weekend sometime soon.”
She nods without hesitation. “A long weekend.”
I kiss her again. Her lips are addictive, soft and demanding, the kind I never want to pull away from.
“Do you think Stefano knows something’s going on with us?” she asks.
“I haven’t told him anything, but I’m sure he does,” I say easily. “He’s known me for years. Does that bother you?”
“No. I just don’t want to broadcast.” She studies me. “You?”
I smile. “You don’t know me yet, Caroline. I never hide what I want.”
She presses a finger to my chest. “Be subtle. Con is hurting. I want to be sensitive.”