Page 7 of Silent Night With Luca

I put my phone back in my coat pocket and look up to see Luca studying the menu plastered on the wall. You’d think he’s never ordered coffee before.

We stand side by side, waiting to order, the silence between us now even thicker. I risk a glance at him, and he’s already watching me, his expression unreadable.

“Still cold?” he asks, that ever-present smirk returning.

I squint at him, wishing looks could kill. “Shut up.”

“Since you won’t letme go out, you’re driving me to the grocery store. I’m getting liquor, and you’re going to play cards with me while we get sloshed.”

“I’m not sure if you got the memo, but I’m your bodyguard, keeping you alive, not your personal chauffeur or bestie-for-hire.”

“Do you want to stare at these four walls for the next two weeks or do you want to have some fun? I might be a job for you, but we can at least try to make the most of it.”

“Your entire family is just sitting down for dinner at Il Parmigiana less than a block from here. Let’s do that. That is what normal people do at the holidays, enjoy food and drink with friends and family.”

“Not going. Are you driving me to the store, or are we walking. Because I’m going.”

“God, you’re insufferable.”

I lean back in the passenger seat, crossing my arms and staring out the window. Winter Haven is peaceful tonight,the snow coming down pretty good now, blanketing everything in a pristine white layer.

Even in my Ugg boots, this walk would have been brutal.

The holiday lights strung along the street lamps twinkle, giving the town that classic Christmas postcard look. But the sight only makes me feel more restless.

“I’m not going to that stupid family get together, singing ‘Kumbaya’ like we are some normal family,” I say, breaking the silence. “If I have to sit through another night of listening to Massimo and Adrian argue about business over plates of pasta, I’m going to lose it.”

Massimo and Adrian Luciana are the brothers who rule this family. Massimo took over as don when Giovanni Vitale killed their father, Antonio Luciana. They also happen to be my over-protective first cousins who think it’s their job to rule my every move.

Luca glances over at me, lips twitching into what could almost be a smile. “You’re never really into family bonding, huh?”

“Nope. And I’m not into forced family fun, either. Everyone is mad at me right now, anyway, because of whatever it was with Marco. I’m only here because Elio begged me and I wanted to get out of the city.”

“He was looking out for you, you know?”

“Whatever. Now I know it was a trick. Let’s play cards and get sloshed tonight. Feels like that kind of night.”

His laugh is low and rough, the sound nearly swallowed by the hum of the car’s heater. “I don’t get sloshed. Especially not on the job.”

“Come on,” I tease, glancing over at the rows of decorated trees lining the streets, lights twinkling in the snow. “What’s the point of being in a winter wonderland at Christmas if you can’t have a little fun?”

He shakes his head, amused but firm. “We’ll get your liquor, but you’re on your own with the cards.”

I sigh dramatically but settle back in my seat as we pull into the grocery store parking lot. Holiday decorations overwhelm the storefront, wreaths hanging on every door. Even the streetlights are decked out with red ribbons. Two weeks until Christmas and I feel about as festive as a lump of coal.

I know exactly what I want and how the liquor shelves are stocked, so I’m in and out in no time. Even with his hulking figure following me like an annoying shadow,we’re back in the car with a bottle of Tito’s Vodka tucked between my legs as we head back to the lodge. The soft glow of Christmas lights spills over the snowy street as we drive back toward the lodge.

I’m still stewing about ending up spending the holidays in this sleepy little town instead of somewhere fun. I thought Arianna would have been able to spice this place up, but it seems like I’m not getting far.

Luca’s being quieter than earlier. God, he’s such a grumpy asshole. I glance over at him, noticing the tension in his jaw as he checks the rearview mirror.

“What’s your deal?” I ask, annoyed that he’s not loosening up, even a little.

“We’re being followed,” he says, his voice low and steady, still fixated on the mirror.

I sit up straighter, the festive lights suddenly feeling less cheerful. “Followed? By who?”

“Don’t know yet. Don’t look obvious, but check out the car behind us.”

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