Page 10 of Silent Night With Luca

“This is bullshit,” she mutters under her breath, loud enough for me to hear.

I don’t respond right away, taking my coat off and hanging it by the door. I’m used to her temper by now, but tonight it feels like she’s about to boil over.

“It’s not my fault, you know,” she snaps, her voice louder now, frustration leaking into every word. “Everything’s on me, isn’t it? Adrian blames me. You blame me. But it’s not all my fault. I didn’t ask you to shoot that guy.”

Here we go.

I turn to her, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “You think I’m overreacting? That killing him was unnecessary?”

She scoffs, sitting up. Her demeanor oozes with that unmistakable dissent she always has ready to unleash on me. “You didn’t have to kill him. You escalated it.”

I push off the wall, taking a step closer. “You really think I had a choice? What did you want me to do, Fiamma? Let him take a shot at you? These things happen in our world. You know that.”

“Maybe, but?—”

I cut her off, my voice low and controlled. “We don’t even know if he’s dead. But it doesn’t matter. This is what it takes to keep you alive. Do you understand that? Or do you still think we’re all overreacting because you didn’t think before you fucked around with Marco?”

Her face flushes, but I don’t back down. She’s been playing with fire this whole time, and now she’s mad that someone’s getting burned.

She glares at me, refusing to back down. “I’m not some damsel in distress you need to save, Luca. You’re treating me like I’m some helpless little girl. Plus, for your information, Marco and I flirted a little, maybe we kissed, but that’s it. I didn’t fuck him, you asshole.”

I let out a breath, shaking my head. “I don’t care what you did with him. You shouldn’t have given him ideas. I’m treating you like someone who’s in real danger, whether you want to admit it or not. Marco’s men are here, and they’re not going to stop because you think I’m being too dramatic.”

Before she can respond, the lights flicker. Then, without warning, everything goes dark. The fire still crackles in the hearth, casting a soft glow over the room, but the power is out, and the wind gusts outside, creating a white, transparent sheet just beyond the glass of the window. It almost looks peaceful.

She sighs, loud and exaggerated, like this is all just one big inconvenience for her. “Great. Now what?”

I start moving toward the kitchen, grabbing a few candles from the cupboard and lighting them. The flickering candlelight throws shadows across the walls, and for a moment, it’s a quaint setting. That is, until Fiamma opens her mouth.

Fiamma stands up, pacing. “Well, looks like we will have to go out after all.”

“We aren’t going anywhere. Sit your ass down.”

“Fuck face.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“Well, looks like all we can do now is play cards by candlelight and drink vodka. Isn’t that what I suggested earlier?”

I glance at her, unimpressed. “I’m not playing cards, and I’m definitely not drinking with you.”

With a quick eye roll, she makes her way to the counter, where she confidently reaches for the bottle of vodka and proceeds to pour herself a well-deserved drink. “Fine. Suit yourself. I’ll just play solitaire and enjoy my night.”

She sits back down, shuffling a deck of cards and setting up a game for herself. I watch her, arms crossed, my mind racing. Part of me knows I should be keeping a close watch, alert in case Marco’s men make another move. But another part of me—the part I hate acknowledging—wants to just sit down with her, drink, and forget about the mess we’re in. If only for a few minutes.

I sit in silence, watching her sip her clear liquid, straight up. After a while, the tension in the room shifts. It’s stillthere, but it’s different now. Less angry, more… something else. She’s focused on her game, the flickering candlelight casting soft shadows across her face. For a moment, it feels like the storm outside doesn’t exist.

Finally, I break the silence. “What do you want to play? Only thing I know how to play is poker.”

She looks up, surprised, but she doesn’t let it show for long. Her lips curl into a small, triumphant smile, and she raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’re caving?”

I shrug, trying to keep my voice casual. “Might as well. We’re stuck here.”

She pushes the cards across the table toward me. “Alright then. Pick your poison.”

I sit down across from her, grabbing the cards and shuffling them. The tension between us is still there, but it’s softer now. Less of a storm, more of a slow burn. We play a few hands, exchanging small talk, but the undercurrent is undeniable. The bickering is gone, replaced by something more subtle, something neither of us is willing to acknowledge out loud.

I can see it in the way she carries herself, and I’m sure she can see it in mine. The temperature is dropping outside, the snow coming down in sheets, but inside, ice is thawing.

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