Page 37 of Silent Night With Luca

Her expression stiffens, and I can see the spark of anger flare up inside of her. “Is that all I am to you? A fucking job?”

I push myself to my feet, frustration creeping in. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Stop acting like a child.”

Her face flushes with anger, and she takes a step closer, her eyes blazing. “And you stop treating me like one.”

We stand there, tension buzzing in the air between us. This is what we’ve been doing since I got back from Frost, circling around each other, never quite saying what we need to say. And now, it’s all coming to a head.

“You want to know what this is?” I ask, my voice low but firm. “It’s about keeping you safe. That’s my job. That’s what I’m here for. Period. Full stop.”

Fiamma shakes her head, her frustration clear. “I hate you.”

I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to shout back. “Super mature, Fiamma. I don’t care if you hate me. In fact, if you do, then I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing, which is saving you from yourself. I’m not here to be your friend.”

She stares at me, her chest rising and falling with the force of her emotions. But instead of responding, she just turns on her heel and starts walking down the hallway, her footsteps quick and sharp against the floor.

I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair. “Where are you going?”

She doesn’t answer.

Damn it.

I follow her down the hall, my steps falling into pace with hers. I don’t care where she’s going or how mad she is—I’m not letting her out of my sight.

Not again.

Fiamma storms ahead, her boots crunching against the packed snow, her breaths coming fast and harsh in the cold air. She doesn’t look back, but I’m right behind her, my footsteps a steady beat on the icy path. I know she’s pissed—hell, I’m pissed, too—but that doesn’t mean I’m letting her out of my sight. Not for a second.

The town is abuzz, people obviously excited about the holiday. The snow is still falling in light flurries, but the tension between us feels like it’s choking out all of the happiness around us.

She’s walking fast, her head down, probably too determined to clear her mind to care about where she’s headed. I keep my distance, knowing she needs space, not wanting to be too close to her myself. But I’m not going anywhere.

Her pace quickens, and I can tell she’s fuming. She doesn’t see the patch of black ice just ahead, doesn’t notice the slick sheen of danger until it’s too late. Her boot hits the ice, and her body slips out from under her like someone yanked the ground away.

She crashes down hard, a gasp escaping her as she hits the ground, her legs sliding awkwardly beneath her.

“Fiamma!” I’m at her side in an instant, the argument forgotten as I kneel down beside her. She’s clutching her ankle, her face contorted in pain, but the stubbornness is still there, trying to push through. “Are you okay?”

She glares at me, pushing my hands away. “I’m fine. I don’t need your help. Just leave me alone.”

I ignore her and gently touch her leg, checking for any signs of serious injury. She winces, and I know she’s hurt, no matter what she says. “You’re not fine. You could have broken something.”

She tries to stand, but her ankle buckles, and she stumbles back down. I catch her before she hits the ground again, steadying her in my arms. “Stop being stubborn. Let me help.”

“I’m not your problem,” she mutters, clearly embarrassed by the fall, by needing my help. But there’s a flicker of something else in her eyes—fear, vulnerability, maybe even a little gratitude, though she’d never admit it.

Without another word, I scoop her up in my arms, cradling her against my chest. Her body stiffens, but she doesn’t fight me, not this time. The cold bites at us, but the warmth of her against me is undeniable, and I can feel the tension between us shift.

As I carry her back toward the lodge, neither of us says a word. The snow falls softly around us, the world seeming to pause, leaving just the two of us. She leans her head against my shoulder, and for a moment, I feel her relax into me, even if just for a second.

I carryFiamma into the suite, careful as I set her down on the sofa. She’s light in my arms, but there’s a weight to this moment—a heaviness that lingers between us.

Quickly I turn toward the fireplace, flipping the switch to light it. The flames crackle to life, and it instantly reminds me of the last time I did this, after she was kidnapped, when all I wanted was to make sure she was okay.

Now, I’m doing the same thing. Trying to protect her, even when she’s pushing me away.

“Do you need anything?” I ask, glancing back at her, trying to soften my response to her. I should be more empathetic with her instead of letting her trigger me.

She shakes her head, her lips tight. “No. I’m fine.”

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