by Bethany-Kris
Table of Contents
A Very Marcello Christmas
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Thanks!
Bio
Other Books
Copyright
For Sasha, and her awesomeness.
A Very Marcello Christmas
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Thanks!
Bio
Other Books
Copyright
Author’s Note:
Back when I wrote Filthy Marcellos, the timeline of the novels was set current day, or just thereabouts. This Christmas novella would technically take place in the year 2026, so quite far into the future. Much like the Legacy novels, which go even beyond that. So, should anyone be curious about the timeline or year for this particular novella, that’s when it would be set in. Hugs, loves.
—Kris
Antony & Cecelia
December 1st
Calendars were things made by the Devil, surely. Each time Cecelia Marcello looked at one, she was reminded of something else she had forgotten to do. Or a birthday coming up. Someone’s school event. Holidays.
Too many things, too little hours, she thought.
It was always something.
Really, she wasn’t too surprised. It was expected with a family like the Marcellos. A family as large as theirs was always navigating tasks, important happenings, and all the while, trying not to step on someone else’s toes.
Her three sons, their wives, and their children certainly made for interesting weeks.
Lucian, their oldest through adoption, and his wife Jordyn had three children. Two girls, and a boy. A very wild boy. Cecelia thought her oldest and his wife were finally done having children, as they assured that was the case, but she didn’t know for sure. Anything was possible, and she was hoping for at least one more grandchild.
Dante, their oldest biological son, and his wife, Catrina, had two children. One girl that was far too much like her mother, and an older boy that was far too smart for his own good. Those two siblings fought like cats and dogs, but Cecelia usually found herself amused by the two more so than annoyed.
And finally, Giovanni. Their youngest, and the most rebellious of their children. He and his wife, Kim, had given them only one grandchild. Little Andino. At six, almost seven, Andino was not the handful his other cousins could be. He was a quiet boy, always looking out for others, and sweet as could be. Cecelia, at first, had been sad that Giovanni and Kim chose not to have more children after Andino, but now …
Well, she supposed if they were only going to have one, a perfect principe was just as wonderful.
“December seventeenth,” Jordyn said over the phone. “That’s for John’s Christmas concert.”
“And Liliana’s kindergarten Christmas concert?”
“Same day—in the morning. Supposed to start at ten.”
Cecelia frowned. “I suppose we’re lucky that Michel is in the same school as John. That saves a date.”
“Not Andino, though,” Jordyn pointed out.
No, because Giovanni refused to put his son in private schools. It wasn’t the cost, but rather, her son wanted Andino to be around all kinds of people. Not only spoiled, rich, white people. Cecelia had once pointed out that Giovanni had gone to expensive, private establishments, but all she got was a dead stare in response.
Sometimes there were things better left unsaid.
This was one of those.
“Andino’s Christmas concert is on the sixteenth,” Cecelia said, tapping the date on the calendar with the tip of a sharpie marker. “Thankfully, it all works out.”
Jordyn laughed. “Yeah, this year, Cecelia.”
“Mmm, I know.”
“Next year, Catherine will start school. The year after that, Cella. Someday, things are not going to coincide so well with your plans. Someone will have to deal with not seeing their grandmamma and grandpapa there. You know that’s okay, right? We understand.”
Perhaps, but Cecelia didn’t.
“It is okay if you miss an event or two,” Jordyn said again.
“Not if I can help it,” Cecelia replied.
Jordyn sighed. “I’m just saying.”
“How are you doing, darling?”
“I’m okay.”
“Really?”
“Well …”
Cecelia turned away from the calendar to lean against the island counter. “Missing Lucian?”
“It’s a very big house to be in when you’re here alone.”
“I bet.”
“Ninety-eight more days,” Jordyn said quietly.
“Maybe less, with good behavior.”
Jordyn laughed. “He’s a well-known Mafioso in jail on an illegal weapons charge. His last name alone is what’s going to keep him in for the full sentence.”
Already, Lucian had been in for a couple of months. It would be another three before he was home with his wife and children. It broke Cecelia’s heart because he was so adored by his family, and missed. The law did not care, though.
“He’ll be home soon,” Cecelia said.
“I know.” Jordyn cleared her throat. “Well, I just called to let you know the final, for-sure dates of the kids’ concerts. I was thinking of stopping by tomorrow, too, if you didn’t mind.”
“Of course, I don’t mind. You could also drop off John, Liliana, and Cella, if you wanted. Take a night for yourself—a break. We all need them. You more so than others, right now.”
“Well …”
“Jordyn, drop them off and give yourself a break. Okay?”
Finally, her daughter-in-law said, “Okay, Cecelia. Thank you.”
Soon after, Cecelia hung up the phone. Once more, she turned to the calendar on the wall, and felt like the damn thing was haunting her. Between all the grandchildren’s events coming up, a visit to see Lucian in jail, a charity auction she had agreed to help put on, and all the church functions … it was going to be a very busy Christmas.
That wasn’t even starting on the New Year.
Still, there was only one thing Cecelia could think that she wanted. As u
sual, her husband would do something amazing. He would give her something spectacular. Antony never failed in that regard, even when she told him year after year that he didn’t need to do that sort of thing.
Yet, she wished for her family. All of them, for at least one single day, to be in the same house together. It was getting harder and harder to do as the kids became older, and focuses changed. Just once more … she wanted them all together.
Or at the very least, happy.
Surely, that wasn’t too much to ask.
Heading to the table, Cecelia grabbed the rolls of wrapping paper that she had forgotten on the floor when the phone started to ring. For now, she would settle herself on wrapping presents, and finish decorating the main rooms of the mansion.
That in itself was a job meant for an army.
It was only December first, after all.
They had time to figure out the rest.
December 5th
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Cecelia asked.
Her husband tugged her closer into his side as they walked through the park. “Very, Tesoro.”
“I like that they went with red and white this year.”
“It’s quite striking against the backdrop, isn’t it?”
Cecelia agreed.
The park had been decorated with giant red and white boughs of holly between thick ropes of fir garland. A few of the choke cherry trees kept their red bulbs, and while snow covered the branches, the color still peeked through. Multicolored lights lit up the trees as they continued their stroll through the quiet park.
Heavy snowflakes fell from the sky.
Already, they had a few inches of snow on the ground. It wasn’t much, and usually, it would be gone within the hour it fell thanks to New York weather. They typically didn’t get snow that stuck until later in the month, closer to Christmas.
This year was a different story.
Cecelia considered it an early Christmas gift.
“I see you added new dates to the calendar this morning,” Antony noted.
“Christmas concerts.”
“We’ll be running for days.”
She smiled. “Would you have it any other way?”
Antony chuckled, drew her closer into his warm embrace, and kissed the wool hat covering her temple. “Never, amore.”
Their walk was mostly silent, as it usually was when they got the chance to take five minutes out of their busy days to be together. Despite their constant movement, her husband always made time to remind Cecelia how much he loved her, and how much their life meant to him. She appreciated it more than she could explain.
Especially during the holidays.
Their life was not always perfect. Over the years, they had more than their fair share of sad moments and hard times. Struggles that shaped their marriage, and family, into the pillars of faith, strength, and love it now was.
Cecelia wouldn’t dare ask for a single thing to be done differently.
Time had treated them especially well.
“You know,” she said, peering up at her dark-haired, green-eyed love, “this is still my favorite time of the year.”
“I know,” Antony replied.
His arm tightened around her, and his light laughter came with a white puff of air from his lips. It was just cold enough to see their breaths, but not enough to be uncomfortable.
“How do you know?”
“Well, for one, because it gives you a reason to shop.”
“Don’t you say that, Antony!”
“It’s true.”
Cecelia guffawed, and smacked her husband with the back of her hand. An oof sound fell from his smirking mouth before he grabbed her mitten-covered hand and snuck it inside his jacket. The tautness of his stomach pressed against her mitten, and the warmth of his body bled into hers.
“It is not,” she said with a pout.
“Kind of is.”
“Antony.”
“Cecelia, you shop for everyone,” he muttered, “even the girl at the grocery store who bags your groceries. You even buy Giovanni’s ugly dog treats to last him the whole year.”
“Well … he’s a good dog!”
Antony glanced away, but not before Cecelia saw the roll of his eyes. “Barely good.”
“You’re ruining my Christmas spirit.”
“Nothing can ruin your Christmas spirt, Cecelia. You’re the angel on top of the tree. You’re the star that hangs high in the sky, calling all your family home to celebrate. You are the—”
“Okay, I get it,” she whispered with a smile. “Thank you.”
Antony stopped their walk, turning to hold Cecelia in his embrace, and stare down at her. Familiar, yet haunting eyes, watched her in that way of his. He could silence her with a look, love her with a linger, and tease her with a wink. That had never once changed in all their many years of marriage.
Neither had the way he adored and loved her.
Familiarity was their best friend.
“Why is it still your favorite time of year, Tesoro?”
Cecelia cupped his face. Her fingers were toasty warm under the thick mittens. “Because you have given me decades and decades of happy Christmases, Antony. Memories after memories that I can never forget. Sure, some things have changed over the years. Our children are all grown up with babies of their own. We’re a little older than we once were, but it’s still just as wonderful and beautiful.”
Antony grinned. “Old, huh?”
“Was that seriously all you heard in that?”
“You know how I feel when you call me old, Cecelia.”
She huffed out a laugh, and stood on her tiptoes in her leather boots to kiss his mouth. “Don’t worry, Antony. I’m very aware that age has not caught up with you quite yet. You remind me as much as you possibly can.”
Even at their ages, passion was still very much alive.
Cecelia was also quite grateful for that.
Antony’s grin turned sinful. “I do, don’t I?”
“That’s quite enough. I’m not feeding your ego today.”
“No, we’ll save that for later.”
“Dio,” Cecelia mumbled, half in curse, half in prayer. She wasn’t quite sure how she was going to keep up with this man for the rest of her life, but damn her if she wasn’t going to at least try. Didn’t she owe him that, after everything? “Should we get back home and finish decorating?”
Antony made a face. “In a moment. I never asked, but what did you want for Christmas this year?”
Cecelia lifted a single brow high. “Why, haven’t you already gotten it for me?”
“Perhaps I have something.”
“But?”
“But you may want something else, too.”
She did.
She absolutely did want something else.
“I’m not sure you could give me what I’m wishing for,” Cecelia admitted, “and it would not be because you are incapable of being amazing, Antony.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I was thinking this might be one of the last years we could have everyone together for Christmas morning. Together, and happy. Considering how old the kids are getting, their interests and activities are picking up … Someday, we’re going to start losing people from the big table.”
“I see what you mean.”
“Also,” Cecelia added, “Lucian is in jail.”
“He’s doing fine. He’ll be out in three months.”
“No, I know. I just meant … my wish is impossible with him being where he is, that’s all.”
Antony nodded. “Well, how about something different?”
“Like what?”
“What if I gave everyone else exactly what they wanted? What if I made them the happiest they could be this year? Would that suit your needs? Next year, I will make sure to get them all together on Christmas morning, no matter what. This year, let me make them happy.”
“Are you going to play Santa?”
Antony f
lashed his teeth in a smile, and winked. “Ho, ho, ho, Cecelia.”
December 7th
“Do you think I should throw our annual Christmas party this year?” Cecelia asked.
Antony peered over the edge of the Car and Driver magazine he had been perusing for close to an hour as Cecelia readied for bed. “Bit late to start considering a party that large, isn’t it?”
“Well, I know I usually begin planning earlier.”
“Yes, at the start of November, Cecelia.”
She met his gaze in the vanity mirror while she massaged lotion into her hands. “What if I handed the reins over this year?”
“To who?”
“The girls.”
Antony lifted a single brow. “The boys’ wives, you mean.”
“Who else would I be talking about, Antony?”
“Hard to say with you,” he mumbled under his breath.
Cecelia shot him a look, but Antony only winked in response.
“Would you actually do that, though?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“Hand the reins over, as you said. Give up control. Don’t micromanage every detail over their shoulders. Let them have the freedom to actually plan.”
“You make me sound like a tyrant.”
“You are,” he replied easily, “especially when it comes to parties or your kitchen.”
“I am—”
Antony’s green gaze pinned Cecelia in place as he said, “You absolutely are. I didn’t say it was a bad thing, Tesoro, but own it, at the very least.”
She sighed dramatically. “They don’t complain.”
“No, because they love you.”
“I think you’re exaggerat—”
“Cecelia, you broke my knuckle with a wooden spoon once when I meddled with a stew.”
“I apologized for that!”
“And yet, here I am, still bringing it up.”
“Antony.”
He chuckled from his side of the bed. “I’m kidding, amore.”
Cecelia pouted. “I don’t think you are.”
“Half-kidding, then.”
She loved her husband.
Even when he infuriated her.
“I would,” she insisted.
“Would what?”
“Hand over the reins to the girls.”
Antony stared up at the ceiling. “If you want to have a party that badly, then we’ll have one. No need to try to convince me with lies about letting the girls plan it.”
