A Very Marcello Christmas Page 11
December 24th
Kim’s body practically flew two inches up off the bed when Giovanni jumped on it. She shot him a fake glare that he entirely ignored as he buried his face into a pillow and groaned loudly.
“He’s in bed, right?”
“Gruuumpff.”
“What?”
More mumbles came from her husband.
With a laugh, Kim reached over and smacked Gio on his arm. “Stop it. Look at me so I can understand you, smartass.”
Gio tipped his head to the side just enough for Kim to see half of his face as he said, “Finally, yes, he is in bed.”
“Andino is excited, that’s all.”
“Oh, my God, Kim. It’s fucking ten o’clock.”
“And you stay up until one every morning. What’s your point?”
“But not that long with him. Do you know how exhausting he is when he just goes, and goes, and fucking goes. He’s like an energizer bunny but with speed. You know, the good kind—makes your heart race and your vision blur because everything is just so fast. Except with that kind of speed, you don’t get out of breath like you do with him, and you don’t get sore and tired until you crash.”
“You haven’t taken speed in like … ten years.”
“Something like that,” Gio mumbled. “Fact remains, that’s what he’s like, but I’m not young anymore and he tires me out.”
Kim rolled her eyes. “You’re fine.”
“My legs hurt.”
“You tired him out, likely.”
“Probably,” her husband agreed.
Then, Gio buried his face back into the pillow. Kim decided to let him stay like that for a little while if only because soon enough they would both have to get out of their comfy, warm bed. After all, Santa had to come for Andino before morning.
That meant the two of them would spend a couple of hours downstairs setting extra gifts up, making everything look nice, and filling their son’s stocking. Not to mention, eating the cookies, drinking the milk the boy left out … Gio could handle eating the carrot, though. Kim fucking hated carrots.
And marriage was about compromise, so …
A few minutes passed them by in silence before Gio turned to look at Kim once more. His green gaze drifted over her before he said quietly, “I still didn’t find something for Andino that would satisfy the whales. A stuffed whale, and the documentary or whatever that he hasn’t seen yet, but still, yeah.”
Too little, too late.
It was Christmas Eve.
“It’ll be fine, Gio,” Kim assured.
It wasn’t like Andino was spoiled, or anything. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Their son was kind of like a free range kid in the way they simply let him wander his interests from one thing or another. They didn’t overwhelm him with stuff and things. If Andino showed interest in something particular, then they helped to feed into that interest, but nothing more.
The whales were the same thing.
Eventually, he would move on to something else.
“He really didn’t ask for much, Kim,” Gio pointed out. “A couple of things, something for someone else, and a fucking whale.”
Kim laughed softly. “Exactly. Our son—who’s six, by the way—thought to write on his Santa list for someone else, Gio. He barely thought about things he wanted, and those things were basically immaterial. He put something for John closer to the top, like it was a big priority. And the whale thing? At the very bottom, like an afterthought.”
“Yeah, but—”
“You said it, Gio. He’s not stupid. He’s little. He’s young. His attention bounces back and forth at times, but he’s not stupid. What he really wanted, he got. Don’t fret.”
“Shouldn’t that just make me feel like an even bigger piece of shit, then?”
Kim frowned. “What, why?”
“Because he’s that good of a damn kid. Because he’s tenderhearted, or something. I don’t know. Because he asked for Santa to bring John’s dad home, but he won’t even get what he wanted the most.”
“You’re overthinking this, Gio.”
“No, I think it makes perfect—”
The ring of a doorbell stopped her husband from saying anything else. They had the doorbell speakers wired all throughout their home so that no matter where they were, they would hear it.
Kim pushed out of the bed first, but Gio followed right after.
“Me first,” he told her. “Who the fuck is ringing our bell at ten at night on Christmas Eve? I don’t like that at all.”
“Stop being paranoid, Gio. It’s Christmas.”
“Hush, woman.”
Kim glowered at his back, but decided not to say more. It wasn’t long before they were downstairs, and whoever it was waiting outside rang the doorbell twice more in quick succession.
“Well, whoever it is, they’re persistent.”
“Persistent about getting my fist through their face if they wake up my kid,” Gio muttered.
“Stop being nasty, it’s—”
“Christmas. Yeah, yeah.” Gio yanked opened the front door with a harsh, “What?”
On the other side of the door standing on their front stoop was a man Kim recognized, but couldn’t bring forth his name. He was young—maybe twenty-two or so, if that. An enforcer for the Marcello family who often watched over the Marcello home or took Cecelia places when she wasn’t in the mood to drive.
“Nate,” Gio said, “what are you doing here?”
The young man wore a Santa cap on his head, and held out a small white gift box with a perfect red bow on top. The box was maybe a foot-long by six-inches wide.
“Someone wanted this sent along, Skip.”
Gio took the box, and eyed it. “Someone like my mother or father?”
“Or Santa?” Nate smiled. “Not supposed to say, you know.”
“All right. Thanks, man.”
Nate gave a two finger salute, and headed back down the steps without as much as a look over his shoulder. Gio closed the door once the man was out of sight, and then turned to face his wife with the gift in his hands.
“Are you going to open it or not?” Kim asked.
“Should probably wait for morning, shouldn’t—”
Screw that.
Kim snagged the box from Gio’s hand, and popped the top off. Inside, plane tickets and papers with information on a whale watching tour rested on top of white tissue paper. On top of those sat a handwritten note.
To Gio and Andino, it read. Santa thought a whale watching trip in Vancouver, Canada might be a little bit better than an actual whale inside your house.
—Love Santa
“Oh, wow,” Kim said, unable to form much else for words.
Gio picked out the note, and read it over a good ten times before a smile lifted the edges of his mouth into a full blown grin. “You know …”
“That’s totally your dad’s handwriting.”
“Yeah,” Gio said.
“Merry Christmas, Gio.”
Gio laughed as he tapped the note against his palm. Then, he kissed his wife. “Merry Christmas, Kim. Ready to set some shit up?”
“You say that like we have a choice.”
He looked down at the note again. “Not really concerned about tomorrow, now. Looking forward to it, actually.”
She bet.
Antony & Cecelia
December 25th
Antony didn’t mind the Santa hat as much, now.
He felt as though he might deserve to wear it, after all.
The very large, and very loud Marcello clan gathered in the living room, each brother tucked into a seating place with their wife and kids.
Lucian—having gotten permission to spend Christmas at his parents’ home despite house arrest—sat with Jordyn and their three little ones closest to the large Christmas tree. His oldest son managed to give his wife attention while he deflected Cella’s effort to open the first gift Antony had passed to her.
Giovanni, his young
est, had Kim sitting in his lap while Andino read through a facts book about killer whales. For the fifth time.
Dante, sitting near the fireplace with Catrina and their two kids, finally looked relaxed for the first time in what seemed like months. His son and daughter were both tucked in close to their father’s side while Catrina sat higher on a chaise behind them, and leaned down to chat.
“Are we ready to start?” Cecelia asked.
Then, his wife spied the gift Cella already had in her hands. She turned to Antony with a raised eyebrow.
He only shrugged.
“You started playing Santa already,” she accused.
Didn’t she know?
He had been playing Santa for weeks now.
She had wanted one thing for Christmas, and that was all her kids together, under their roof to celebrate the holidays.
It hadn’t been easy.
Antony pulled a lot of strings.
So worth it.
“Well, get under the tree Antony and find a gift for everybody,” his wife ordered.
Antony didn’t need to be told a second time. Cecelia spoke, and he listened. He had learned over the years that was the best way for them to be. He didn’t mind at all.
It didn’t take long for Antony to paw through the piles of Christmas gifts, and find one for each person. They had quite a few to get through, but that was okay, too. They had all the time in the world now that Mass was over, and lunch had been served.
Once everyone had a gift in their hands—minus Antony and Cecelia—the tearing of wrapping paper started. Antony and Cecelia would wait for later, once they were alone, to open their gifts.
Antony tucked his wife in tight to his side, and kissed her temple.
Cecelia smiled softly up at him.
“You didn’t think the yacht and island were your only gifts, did you?” he asked.
“I could have asked for the moon and stars, Antony.”
“I would have given those to you, too, Cecelia.”
“Of course you would have.”
“The island trip was a real thing,” Antony said, chuckling. “If all else failed, I was going to take you to the island and distract you for a couple of weeks.”
“We can do that after the holidays.”
Most definitely.
Close to the top of their ten foot high tree, a single extra-large glass ornament glinted under the white twinkle lights. Out of all the Christmas decorations in their home, that one was Antony’s favorite.
It was clear, with white and silver snowflakes inside. Twice the size of a baseball, it always had to be hung on a strong branch. He was the one to hang it every year just to be safe. His wife had given it to them on their very first Christmas together after they married.
A simple ornament that meant the world to him. It only had a single line of scripted words written across the middle.
But back then, when Cecelia had given it to him, he read the one line and knew someday it wouldn’t be just them opening gifts on Christmas morning. It wouldn’t forever be a family of two like they had been that first Christmas.
He still stopped to read the words on that ornament every single Christmas after the first one. It still meant the world, even when his whole world was already sitting in his living room, and tucked into his side.
Merry Christmas from the Marcellos.
For those who may not know, as I did only say it once on my Facebook page, this Christmas novella will be the final book I write for the original first generation of Marcellos. It’s a bittersweet thing—I love them so much, and could write them into forever. Hell, I’m already into their kids, and even the grandkids are in there, too.
So yeah, this is sad for me to say goodbye officially. But these books would not have been what they were without the readers and fans of these Filthy men and their wives. Thank you so much for loving them like you did. It was this series where I finally started to think, Damn, maybe I’ve got something here. Because of all of you, truly.
To Tracy, thank you for proofing. And to Eli, for editing, and working your magic like you do.
Sasha, thank you for the teasers and the cover—they’re all amazing, just like you, love.
Hugs, loves.
Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to four young sons, one cat, and three dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her boys under her feet, a snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a spouse calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something ... when she can find the time.
Find Bethany-Kris at:
Her website www.bethanykris.com or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/bethanykriswrites on her blog at http://www.bethanykris.com/blog or on Twitter - @BethanyKris.
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Cross + Catherine
Always
Revere
Unruly
Guzzi Duet
Unraveled, Book One
Entangled, Book Two
DeLuca Duet
Waste of Worth: Part One
Worth of Waste: Part Two
Standalone Titles
Inflict
Donati Bloodlines
Thin Lies
Thin Lines
Thin Lives
Behind the Bloodlines
The Complete Trilogy
Filthy Marcellos
Antony
Lucian
Giovanni
Dante
Legacy
A Very Marcello Christmas
The Complete Collection
Seasons of Betrayal
Where the Sun Hides
Where the Snow Falls
Where the Wind Whispers
Gun Moll Trilogy
Gun Moll
Gangster Moll
Madame Moll
The Chicago War
Deathless & Divided
Reckless & Ruined
Scarless & Sacred
Breathless & Bloodstained
The Complete Series
The Russian Guns
The Arrangement
The Life
The Score
Demyan & Ana
Shattered
The Jersey Vignettes
Find more on Bethany-Kris’s website at www.bethanykris.com.
Copyright © 2017 by Bethany-Kris. All Rights Reserved.
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted material is illegal and punishable by law. No parts of this work may be reproduced, copied, used, or printed without expressed written consent from the publisher/author. Exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in reviews.
eISBN 13: 978-1-988197-47-0
Editor: Elizabeth Peters
Proofreaders: Tracy A.
Cover Design © Sasha Elle
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, organizations, corporations, locales and so forth are a product of the author’s imagination, or if real, used fictitiously. Any resemblance to a person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.