Maldives & Mistletoe Read online

  MALDIVES & MISTLETOE

  A Chicago War Christmas Novella

  BETHANY-KRIS

  For Sasha. Thank you for being my biggest fan, always.

  CONTENTS

  MALDIVES & MISTLETOE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  A Note!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  OTHER BOOKS

  Copyright

  ONE

  Lily and Damian

  LILY

  Holidays shouldn’t be stressful. Of that, Lily Rossi was most sure. They shouldn’t draw anxiety into a person’s heart beyond deciding which gift to buy for someone. A person should only have to worry about showing up on time to parties, eating good food, and relaxing.

  Holidays should not involve packing luggage for two kids—two very rowdy toddler boys, as a matter of fact—one tired mother, and a father who looked like he was at the end of his rope.

  “Why do you need all that?” Damian asked from the bedroom doorway.

  Lily huffed, and blew a stray wave of her blonde hair out of her eye as she leaned over the suitcase, and tried her damnedest to squish the contents down just enough to finally—maybe, by the grace of God—get the top zipped. “Instead of opening your mouth to ask stupid questions,” she growled at her husband, “why don’t you get over here and help me close this?”

  “Lily,” Damian returned calmly, “it’s going to be overweight.”

  “So, we’ll pay the extra. What do you want me to do? You know how Joe and Cory are—they need all the clothes or they’ll have no fucking clothes.”

  Because boys were messy.

  And loud.

  Plus, the boys needed their favorite toys. Things to keep them occupied on the plane, and off it. Kids also just had to travel with a lot of shit because they were kids and that’s how life treated parents. Like one big joke.

  Haha, so funny.

  Not to mention, if Lily didn’t remember to pack things for her husband, Damian would have nothing to wear because he didn’t give a shit. He would rather concern himself over what kind of food he was going to get on the plane rather than what he was going to wear when they got to the Maldives.

  So yes, Lily had to pack a whole lot of crap for only a few people.

  “Ma! Cory takes my toy! Ma!”

  Lily grunted, and shook her head as she ignored the shout of her three-year-old coming from down the hall. Joe hated people in his space. Already, at his age, he just wanted to be left alone to do his own thing, and on his own time. If he wanted to join people or a party, then he would do that. But more often than not, Lily would find her son in a quiet space playing on his own.

  It was just what he liked.

  Joe reminded Lily a lot of his father in that way.

  Cory, on the other hand?

  Oh, that child was the complete opposite. He needed attention. Thrived on it, really. The two-year-old wanted to be the center of every person’s universe, and fuck you if you thought you were going to do as much as take a piss without him talking to you throughout the whole endeavor.

  Lily loved her kids.

  Loved them with her whole heart, to the ends of the earth and back … until she took her very last breath, and even then … she would keep on loving them.

  But this motherhood thing?

  This was no fucking joke.

  It was not for the weak of heart, or those with queasy stomachs. Motherhood would chew up the weak, and spit them out the other side with messy hair, smudged makeup, and dried something on their shoulder before they even realized what happened.

  Kids were like sharks in the water. They could smell your blood for the weakness it was. And when they smelled that … you were done for. There was no saving you from them.

  “Ma!”

  Damian sighed, and shoved his hands in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels just enough to stare down the hallway outside the bedroom. “Joe, you handle your brother. You know the rules. Get along, or don’t. But you handle it.”

  “But—”

  “Joe.”

  “He takes my toys!”

  “Handle your brother.”

  Lily swore not five seconds later, she heard a thwack that echoed in the hallway. Following that was the disbelieving screech of pain from a two-year-old before another thwack followed.

  “Ow, Cory. No hit me!”

  “No hits!” Cory shouted.

  Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

  “No hits!”

  The battle between toddlers continued raging on down the hall, but neither Lily or Damian moved to stop it. Damian sighed again, and gave his wife a look that spoke volumes without actually having to say anything at all.

  That was the thing about their kids. If they stepped in to stop every petty argument, then the boys would always depend on their parents to handle whatever issues came up between them. They were close in age—only a year separated them—so they had to learn to make room for each other in their lives, share their spaces, and be brothers.

  Right now, it was toys and they were two and three. But what about when they were sixteen and seventeen, and it was something bigger than toys?

  They had to figure out petty nonsense alone.

  “Whose idea was this again to leave Chicago for Christmas, take all the kids to the Maldives, and hope it would be okay?” Lily asked.

  Damian chuckled dryly. “I think you mean pray it would be okay, sweetheart.”

  Another screech echoed. Another thwack followed. Lily sent up a silent thanks for the fact she had a few years to go before she would have to worry about any more kids given that damn IUD she had put in after Cory was born.

  She was not having more kids until the two she had learned to get along. Although, according to everyone else, that was never going to happen. Regardless of what Damian and Lily tried to do to make their sons work out their issues and get along, this was just what siblings did.

  They would fight their way into adulthood, and annoy the hell out of their parents the whole time. Might as well just sit back, and enjoy the ride. There wasn’t anything they could do about it, and they would only drive themselves crazy trying.

  “Seriously,” Lily said as she finally got the overstuffed luggage zipped and stood straight with another huff, “whose brilliant idea was it to take all these kids, shove them on a plane, and fly for hours with the hope that it would be fantastic?”

  Damian shrugged. “Theo and Eve. Well, they suggested we take the kids, too, and the wives. Adriano made the deal for this time of the year, and all.”

  Of course, Theo and Eve had thought putting these kids on a plane instead of a private jet would be a good idea.

  The only childless ones in the bunch.

  “Remind me to give them the worst Christmas present,” Lily muttered. “But an especially bad one for my dumbass brother.”

  Damian smirked as he turned to head into the hallway and handle the kids. “Hell, Lily, I will help you pick it out.”

  She had no doubt.

  TWO

  Alessa and Adriano

  ALESSA

  “I’m sorry, sir, but there’s something wrong with this barcode,” the woman behind the desk said, trying once again to unsuccessfully scan the ticket Adriano had printed off. “It looks like it may have been smudged a bit. If you have the email—”

  Alessa could feel Adriano’s stress picking up from two feet away. It practically vibrated off
her husband. All the while, she attempted to keep their two young daughters occupied and happy enough to stay quiet. But they were toddlers, so that was a failed fucking effort, too. Life had a way of playing jokes on people at the worst times.

  “I don’t have the email,” Adriano muttered.

  The woman behind the check-ins desk lifted a brow. “Why not?”

  That was a perfectly reasonable question with a perfectly horrible answer. Because of life. And jokes. This time, the goddamn joke was on them.

  “My phone made its way into the toilet this morning,” Adriano said, sighing as he scrubbed a hand down his face. “Someone thought it needed cleaning. I had already printed off the ticket, and wasn’t bringing my laptop along for this trip, so no, I don’t have the damn email.”

  The woman’s gaze drifted to where Alessa stood just a couple of feet back with one toddler balanced on her waist, and another tugging on her hand because Corrine had found something shiny or pretty she liked and wanted to go get it right now. Which she kept repeating loudly. That was the thing about toddlers. They didn’t give a shit about anything. They had no concept of good or bad behavior. They only had needs and wants, and they didn’t understand the difference between the two things at all.

  Sympathy stared back from the woman as Alessa shrugged as if to silently say, What can you do?

  Life rarely went as planned.

  Alessa had learned to plan for these things over time, but she’d dropped the ball today. Usually, she’d have the backups for everything paperwork wise just in case. But the baby had ended up having a puking fit the night before, and she’d panicked thinking they wouldn’t be able to fly the next day. All of her attention went to making sure the baby didn’t have any kind of bug, and finishing up last minute packing.

  So, here they were.

  Kind of screwed.

  “Okay, give me a few minutes,” the woman said, taking the printed ticket from Adriano’s hand. “Leave your IDs with me, and the card used to buy the ticket. I will put all these reference numbers in, double check everything, and we’ll get you on the flight. It’s just going to take a bit more time than usual.”

  Adriano let out a noise that sounded a hell of a lot like relief, but Alessa couldn’t be sure. That was the thing—when everything seemed to be going well, something was quick to jump in and laugh in their faces before it all went to shit.

  Her husband turned to give her a smile as the woman got to work. Alessa winked, trying to make Adriano smile a bit. It worked, like it usually did. He reached out to stroke a hand over the downy soft hair of their youngest’s head as he came close enough to drop a kiss on the top of Alessa’s head.

  “What a morning, huh?”

  “It’ll get sorted. We’ll make the flight.”

  Everyone else had already checked in, dropped off their bags, and went through security. They had probably gotten food, made sure all the kids were happy and settled, and were currently waiting at the gate wondering where in the hell Alessa and Adriano were at the moment.

  “I can’t miss this trip,” Adriano murmured, keeping his tone low as to keep anyone else from overhearing their conversation. “I made this damn deal, Lissa.”

  She held their kids tighter as he met her gaze, and the worry he was feeling reflected back in his stare. Always the youngest, she thought. Still, in his business, Adriano was the youngest made man in the Outfit who always felt a need to prove himself. Not that anyone ever went out of their way to make him feel like a rookie or some shit, but he felt that way all the time. Like he had to make sure everyone and anyone around him knew that despite his age, he still had all the capabilities and experience that mattered to make money, and get the job done.

  This trip to the Maldives for Christmas was just another one of those things. Oh, sure, they were going to have fun. It was a vacation, too. They’d spend the holidays together with their friends, and business would barely touch the women and kids, if at all. Maybe in passing if someone felt like letting them know what had gone on.

  But that was it.

  Still, there would be business. A whole arms deal Adriano had set up himself through contacts he’d pulled together. Tommas’s effort to increase his presence in trafficking guns fell to whoever was able to pull a deal together, and get their hands on the weapons.

  Theo got the weapons.

  Adriano made the deal.

  So yeah, he kind of had to be on that plane. He had to make it to the Maldives, and be there to speak because he was the one who made that damn deal.

  Suddenly, for no particular reason, Corrine burst into howling, wailing tears next to her mother’s side. Alessa let out a loud sigh, and side-eyed her husband before trying to console their daughter.

  It took the woman behind the counter another ten minutes—all the while, Corrine wailed—to finally get the tickets through.

  But they came through.

  “Let’s hope security doesn’t take forever,” Adriano said, scooping a still-crying Corrine into his arms. “Or we’re screwed, Lissa.”

  She laughed.

  Of course, security would take forever.

  Life was having a good laugh at them today.

  THREE

  Abriella and Tommas

  ABRIELLA

  “Where are Alessa and Adriano?” Theo asked as he kept his two-year-old nephew occupied by pulling on the leather cord around his neck. “Hey, be easy, Cory.”

  The boy beamed up at his uncle, and yanked on the leather cord again.

  Theo gave the toddler a look.

  The toddler looked right back.

  “You’re impossible,” Theo told the boy.

  Cory let out a loud squealing laugh because to him, this shit was funny. He lived for this nonsense with his uncle. No one else let him get away with as much crap as Theo did when it came right down to it.

  “Just like your father,” Theo added.

  “No, he is not,” Damian—Cory’s father—said absently as he cleaned a mess off the front of his other son’s shirt. Chocolate, or something. Kids were always getting into everything. It was impossible to keep them clean for a spread of a couple of hours. “He’s just like you, Theo. He doesn’t get that shit from me or Lily.”

  “Accurate,” Lily said, glancing away from the windows overlooking the plane that was taxing up to the gate. “You’re the bad influence, Theo. Don’t even try to deny it.”

  Theo looked like someone had just smacked him in the face with a shovel before he made a noise under his breath. “Listen, it’s not pick on Theo day, okay. Find someone else to bother.” He patted Cory on the top of his head. “He’s just fine the way he is, even if he does get it from me.”

  If it were any other time or day or fuck, even place, Abriella might have laughed. No, she definitely would have laughed, and then promptly pointed out that Theo asked for all of this. From Cory’s behavior, to the way everyone liked to point this shit out to him. But it wasn’t any other day, and she was just about done with this damn day.

  “Did you text Adriano?” Theo asked Tommas.

  Tommas nodded as he took his son from his wife’s outstretched arms. Tommaso squirmed, unhappy that he was being passed on to yet someone else’s arms instead of being put down on the floor so that he could run and play. All the energy in the world, but Abriella didn’t know where her son got it from. God knew she had a hard time keeping up some days.

  “No!” the two-year-old shouted.

  “Almost on the plane,” Tommas told their son.

  There was nothing Tommaso liked more than flying. But even the promise of getting on the plane soon was not enough to make the toddler happy.

  Abriella sighed. “This was a bad idea. We should have flown privately, or—”

  “Kind of late now,” Theo muttered.

  At least, Abriella thought, Theo was finally understanding why this hadn’t been one of his and Eve’s greatest ideas. Not that Abriella felt the need to point that out any more than it already had been o
ver the course of the morning.

  The kids were doing that well enough on their own, frankly. It only took one of the toddlers to start acting up for all the rest of them to follow suit.

  “Oh, good, we didn’t miss the fucking plane,” a familiar voice grumbled behind Abriella. “What a whole damn mess this day is.”

  She spun around on her heels to find Adriano and Alessa approaching with their two girls. One in their father’s arms, and the other in their mother’s. At the moment, Alessa and Adriano looked about like the rest of them did.

  Exhausted.

  Over it.

  On their last freaking rope.

  “Don’t cuss,” Alessa said, rolling her eyes.

  Adriano scowled. “Today is the day for all the swearing, Lissa.”

  “Yes, but—”

  Adriano bent down to let the oldest of their two girls on the floor. The second Corrine’s feet touched the ground, she darted forward and stole the toy Joe had been quietly playing with while sitting in his chair beside his mother and father.

  The quietest kid of the bunch, right there. Joe was the easiest of all their large brood to please, and make sure he stayed out of trouble. Being the oldest of all the kids, that was also a great help when it came right down to it.

  Unless, of course, someone interrupted him or took away his things. Then, Joe turned into every other three-year-old who was ready to break some shit and make a lot of noise.

  Like right now.

  “My truck!” Joe wailed. “Gives back my truck!”

  It was like a domino effect, really. One kid started to cry, and then slowly—one after another like a fucking train wreck you couldn’t stop and you just had to watch happen all the while—another kid started crying, too. And then another, and another.

  There was no stopping it.

  Nothing could be done.

  Tommas and Abriella stood side by side and stared helplessly at one another as even their own son started wailing at their feet. Tommaso looked up at them with the biggest eyes—confusion and unhappiness staring back—as fat tears slid down his cheeks.