Page 3 of Fated

With a whole lot of willpower, desperation, and sheer daring, we held onto Abry. Barely. But now we’re thriving.

“Is Uncle Daniel coming to escort me downstairs?” Mila asks, turning from the window, her lips pinched with worry.

Daniel’s late. Which isn’t a concern—he’s almost always late. He’ll be chatting up an elegant woman in some corner or posing for the press, who are drawn to him like hungry tourists to chocolate shops.

“Of course he’ll be here—” I begin, but there’s a knock on the door.

Mila runs across the room, dodging my bed. She flings the door open. “Uncle Daniel!”

She hurtles at him, giving him a tight hug. Over their embrace Daniel grins at me, one eyebrow quirked high.

He’s in a black tux, his dark blond hair smoothed back, his blue eyes filled with laughter.

He’s tall and solid, and when in a tux he looks just like our dad. Except softer and kinder.

“Merry Christmas, ma choupinette,” Daniel says, squeezing Mila.

I hide my smile, already aware that in less than two minutes we’ll be walking down the grand staircase, entering the fray.

For me, this isn’t a party. It’s business.

Plus, Max will be downstairs, and I’m not quite sure what to expect from him.

Mila steps back, realizing she just displayed a vast amount of glee unsuitable for such a monumental and grown-up occasion. She smooths her hands over her frothy skirt then lifts her pointed chin, giving her uncle a firm stare. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, Mila. I was waylaid by the press on my way in.”

She thinks about this, tilting her head. “Did you mention the new line we’re launching? Did you kiss a beautiful lady and flash your watch for the camera?”

Daniel laughs, long and loud. His laughter echoes around the stone hall, merging with the violins and cellos drifting up from the ballroom. “You know me too well.”

Mila nods solemnly then glances back at me. “Coming, Mummy?”

“Fi?” Daniel asks, holding out his arm.

I give in and smile at them both, my little brother and my baby girl. “Of course.”

I lift a crystal bottle from my dressing table and spritz myself with a Christmas perfume—vanilla, sugar and spice, glowing stars, and snowy nights.

Then I take Daniel’s offered arm and Mila’s hand.

We’re off to celebrate Christmas Eve.

2

The glitter of the night,the magic, falls over us as soon as we descend the staircase.

The ballroom remains empty most of the year, a hollow, cavernous room with high plastered ceilings, silk-paneled walls, and parquet floors. The room’s sole purpose is to entertain, and it always seems like a lonely housebound woman who only comes to life when friends visit. When people arrive, the ballroom blossoms and the gloom and the empty, cavernous feeling fly away, swept aside for the glee of a party.

There are sixty Nordmann fir and spruce Christmas trees lining the walls, one for each country where we have an official presence—Italy, Cyprus, the United Kingdom, Japan, Germany, Singapore, Brazil, and more. They’re decorated in the Christmas traditions of each country, including, of course, ceramic models of our timepieces. The heady scent of spruce and fir teases through the room, mixing with cinnamon and allspice and gingerbread.

In fact, against the windows, a life-size gingerbread house reigns supreme. Outside the frosting-glazed house, a giant working timepiece resides over the gala. It’s crafted of silver spun sugar and shaped like the Chronomachen, our bestseller.

From the ceiling hang glittering snowflakes and boughs of mistletoe. Christmas lights twinkle from above like stars guiding wanderers home. A fairytale Christmas.

As we float down the steps I take it all in. I breathe in the evergreen and spice, feeling the heat of the room crackling from all the laughing, dancing guests, and take in the snapping excitement and the magic of it all.

“I never imagined it would be so beautiful,” Mila whispers, and over her bright red hair Daniel grins at me. He’s triumphant. A year of planning and prodding countless staff members and contractors and he has his niece’s awe-filled approval.

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