Page 22 of Silent Night With Luca

The warmth of the water seeps into my bones, pulling me under its spell as I sink deeper into the tub. The steam rises around me, curling in the air, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m starting to feel human again.

Luca prepared everything for me—this bath, the soft towels, even the candles flickering softly around the room. I don’t think I’ve ever imagined there could be a side of him like this. Granted, before he was tasked with watching over me, I only knew who he was from afar. He has always seemed detached, like a good-looking meathead to me.

Through the open door, I can just make out the faint glow of the Christmas tree’s lights in the living room, its lights casting a warm, golden hue over the space. The scent of pine lingers in the air, mixing with the subtle spice of the candles he lit for me.

Outside, through the frosted windows, I can see the snow continuing to fall, the dark night blanketed in a soft, white blanket. It’s the kind of snowfall that belongs to this timeof year—the quiet kind that muffles everything and makes the world seem like a gift personally wrapped by nature.

But the deceivingly innocent image of the snow as a gift doesn’t quite reach me. Not yet. My mind is too full of everything that’s happened, and my body still aches from the cold, from the aching knives of the ice against my feet. The ache in my muscles is slowly fading in the warmth of the bath, but the chill of the last few days clings to me in ways I’m not sure will ever go away.

Luca has really shown up for me in a way he isn’t required to do as simply a bodyguard. He’s made sure that I’m safe, warm, and that he understands the narrative before bringing the rest of the family in.

He’s the reason I feel okay right now. He’s the only person who could make me feel this way. That thought stirs something deep inside me, something I didn’t expect to feel. I glance toward the door, half-expecting him to walk in, to check on me like he’s already done a dozen times.

My fingers trail through the water, and I let out a long breath, thinking about Elio. I should call him. I should tell him everything. Luca’s right. Best to keep this between us for now until we figure out what comes next.

Christmas is thirteen days away, but this year, it feels like the holiday cheer is just beyond my reach. It seems like something is happening to other people while I’m caught up in this madness that I know I brought on myself.

For the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m letting someone else take the reins. Luca’s handling everything—plotting how to deal with Marco, making sure I’m safe, nursing me back to health. And I’m letting him. It feelsstrange, foreign, but it feels right. I trust him. More than I’ve trusted anyone in a long time.

It seems like forever ago that we had that insane, unplanned fuck on the kitchen table. But in reality, it was only twenty-four hours ago.

I should have known where strip poker might lead, but I figured I would win and he would be the one sitting there naked, feeling ridiculous.

Instead, I was the one with no clothes on. And being there with nothing to shield me from him somehow turned me on.

It was just a fun roll in the hay together, nothing more. But now, after everything I’ve been through, we’ve been through, it feels like so much more. It feels more significant than it did at first. And I’m horny even thinking about him inside of me.

The scent of pine lingers in the air, reminding me season, of why we’re here. I should be thinking about my family, about being grateful I’m alive to celebrate with them.

But all I can think about is Luca—how close we’ve gotten, how much I’ve come to rely on him in such a short time.

The knock on the doorframe is soft, hesitant. My heart skips a beat, and I sit up slowly, the steam swirling around me as I call out, “Come in.”

The opening is filled out by his striking, tall frame. His breathtaking handsomeness remains the same, even more so, perhaps. With his light hair tousled, his green eyes sparkle to match the tree just behind him.

His face is serious, concerned, but there’s something else there too, something unspoken. He clears his throat and steps into the room, placing a glass of water on the edge of the tub.

“I brought this,” he says, his voice low, almost gruff. “You need to stay hydrated.”

I nod, taking the glass from him, our fingers brushing briefly. “Thank you.”

His head flicks to the side, toward the glowing Christmas tree visible through the doorway. It feels out of place, almost surreal against everything we’ve been through. But at the same time, it’s grounding. A reminder that the holidays are a time of quiet communion, or peace, even, if this brutal world doesn’t threaten to steal all of it.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice softer now.

“Better,” I admit, setting the glass down. “The bath is helping.”

He nods, but I can feel the tension in the air between us, the unspoken heaviness of everything that’s happened, mingling with the holiday warmth all around us. It’s like we’re both standing at the edge of something, not quite ready to step off, but knowing we can’t stay here forever.

“I’ll let you finish up,” he says, stepping back toward the door, but there’s a hesitation in his movements. He doesn’t want to leave. I can see it in the way he lingers.

“Luca,” I call softly before he can walk out.

He turns to look at me, and for a moment, everything stills. The snow falls gently outside, the Christmas lights twinklefaintly in the distance, and the room feels warmer than it did a second ago.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the crackling fire in the next room. “For everything.”

He holds my gaze for a long moment, then nods, his jaw tight. “You don’t have to thank me.”

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