Page 58 of DeLucas After Dark

I remove my leather gloves, stuff them in my other pocket, and take the seat that Marco’s holding out for me.

No sooner than he’s seated, a waitress arrives at our table to take our order. Marco places an order of wings, fries, shrimp in garlic sauce, and tater tot nachos with kimchee sauce.

“When will your family arrive?”

“Niccolò, Alessandro, Mila, Bianca, and Aris should be pulling up any minute. Their flight landed two hours ago, and the last time I heard from them, they were already on the road from the airport. Antonio, Giulia, Gaia, Massimo, Luna and Ilaria will arrive tomorrow afternoon with my parents.”

“A big Italian Christmas. This should be lots of fun,” I mutter.

Marco reaches over the table, grabs my hand, and presses his lips to my knuckles. Pulling back, he asks, “Are you going to be okay with this?”

“I am.”

He nods. “You’ve met my family, but you’ve never been around them all at once. I can think of no better time than Christmas for you to be submerged in DeLuca love.”

“I’m looking forward to it, baby. I wish they were all staying until the New Year.”

“I don’t,” he grunts.

“Why not?”

“How am I gonna make you scream my name all over the place when my parents are there?”

Giggling, I turn my attention to the bar. A man wearing a ball cap and sunglasses sits at the bar, sipping a drink. He’s staring openly at me. It gives me the creeps, but I don’t say anything because I don’t want Marco freaking out. Besides, our security team is right outside this door, and two of our men are in the pub with us, seated at tables not too far away.

We talk for a while longer before our food arrives, and we dig into it. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until this moment. I guess with all the sex we were having, I’ve worked up quite an appetite.

By the time we finish our meal, the man has left the bar.

“You ready, babe?”

“Yes,” I say, standing as Marco helps me back into my coat.

We head out into the night once again, and someone bumps into Marco.

“Scuse me,” the man says, pushing quickly past us.

I turn just as Marco’s team turns and watches him go. Their hands are on their guns, but Marco growls his displeasure at the men, not preventing the unwanted contact. That contact could easily have been a knife to his gut. I know they’ll hear about it when I’m no longer around.

Yet, the glance that I get tells me that it’s the same man from the bar. I never saw his face, though. I push it out of my mind as we climb into the waiting car and resume our journey to our lodging place for the next week.

The drive is only another fifteen minutes before he says, “We’re here, baby.”

“It’s beautiful, Marco,” I whisper as the towering cabin— freaking castle is more like it— comes into view through the beautiful snow-laden mountain ash trees. Their red berries, though covered with snow, are magnificent in this wintry wonderland.

A two-story log cabin has balconies on every side with some glass walls and covered patios. Warm, orange light beacons from within promise warmth and coziness from the harsh winter cold.

Snow glistens on the grounds and trees like tiny diamonds on a white blanket. The black paved driveway sparkles in the late afternoon sun as if diamonds have been sprinkled on its surface.

It’s incredibly beautiful. We seldom get snow in Atlanta, and when we do, it isn’t nearly this much. When the car rolls to a stop, I jump out, throwing my arms out wide and spinning around.

The fresh mountain air, the whispering wind, and the stillness promise that this vacation will be serene.

Something I’ve needed for the last few weeks.

“This is so beautiful, Marco.”

Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls the hood of my coat from my head and kisses my neck. “Glad you like it.”

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