Chapter Seventeen #3
I surveyed the vast ballroom. Yesterday, I'd barely touched this space, intimidated by its grandeur.
Now, with Dario's unexpected enthusiasm, I felt bolder.
"There," I decided, pointing to a corner near the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"Where the sunlight will hit it during the day, and we'll see it reflected in the glass at night. "
Dario nodded and gestured to the men, who began the laborious process of positioning the tree in the massive stand that had arrived with it.
I watched in fascination as Dario directed them with the same commanding presence he used in business, or in more dangerous situations I tried not to think about.
But instead of ordering a hit or negotiating a territory dispute, he was supervising the placement of a Christmas tree. For me.
"Two inches to the left," he instructed, hands on his hips as he assessed the tree's position with a critical eye. "Now straighten it. The right side is lower."
I bit my lip to hide a smile. Dario approached Christmas decorations with the same precision he applied to everything else in his life.
Once the tree was secured, standing proud and magnificent in the corner, Dario dismissed the delivery crew with a generous tip.
They filed out, leaving us alone with the enormous evergreen.
"Now what?" Dario asked, turning to me.
"Now we decorate," I said, gesturing to the dozen boxes of lights and ornaments I'd had delivered that morning in anticipation of a tree—though admittedly, a much smaller one. “Might need a step ladder.”
Dario rolled up his sleeves, a determined look crossing his face. "Where do we start?"
His willingness took me by surprise. I'd expected tolerance of my Christmas enthusiasm, not participation. "Lights first," I said, opening the first box. "Always lights first."
What followed was a comedy of errors as we attempted to string lights around the massive tree. I wobbled precariously on a ladder that suddenly seemed comically inadequate for the task, while Dario steadied it from below, handing up strand after strand of twinkling bulbs.
"Hand me that strand," I directed, reaching down.
Dario passed me the lights, a reluctant grin tugging at his lips. "You missed a spot," he pointed out as I stretched to reach a bare section.
"I'd like to see you do better from up here," I challenged, looking down at him with narrowed eyes.
"Is that an invitation?" In one smooth motion, he was on the ladder behind me, his chest pressed against my back as he reached past me to tuck the strand of lights into a bare spot I couldn't reach.
His breath warmed my neck, sending shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with Christmas spirit.
"Show-off," I muttered, but leaned back against him briefly, enjoying his solid warmth.
We continued working our way around the tree, our banter flowing more easily with each completed circle. The intimidating crime boss disappeared, replaced by a man laughing as pine needles showered down on his expensive shirt, helping his fiancée decorate a Christmas tree like any normal couple.
"We've got company," Dario murmured, nodding toward the doorway.
I turned to see Gabriel watching us, his face lit with boyish excitement.
"That tree is spectacular," he said, striding into the room.
"Need help?" Before I could answer, he was already digging through a box of ornaments, pulling out a glittering glass ball.
"Mom had one just like this," he said softly, turning it in his hands. "I remember how the light caught it."
"Then you should hang it somewhere special," I told him, climbing down from the ladder.
Gabriel needed no further encouragement.
He approached the tree with the reverence of someone performing a ritual.
Or like a kid wanting to put his favorite ornament in the perfect spot.
The ornament caught the light, sending rainbow prisms dancing across the wall.
We'd barely returned to stringing lights when Alessandro appeared, impeccable in a tailored suit despite it being a Sunday.
He stood in the doorway, surveying our progress with a critical eye.
"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.