by Bethany-Kris
“He’s snapping at every little thing,” Catrina admitted.
Jordyn frowned. “Maybe he needs a break, Cat.”
“Life is a bit too busy for breaks, isn’t it?”
“We all need them occasionally.”
“Sure, but how do I explain that to my very difficult, stubborn husband who wakes up at five every morning, runs for an hour on the treadmill, drinks his coffee by seven sharp, and has the rest of his day planned out by the hour?”
Jordyn let out a little laugh.
Catrina had a point.
“Well, I don’t know. I suppose that’s something you’ll have to figure out.”
“You’re no help, Jordyn.”
“Hey, I am just trying to get these damn invitations out for the party on time. Don’t ask for too much from me right now. I’ll probably end up missing Lucian’s call today, actually. This line is so long.”
“Sorry.” Catrina made a noise under her breath. “Bad time of year, I suppose. Everyone is busy, and rushing.”
“Cecelia does this every year, though.”
“She does, but she’s also done it for three decades, Jordyn.”
“Truth.”
“I’ll let you go. I need to get on the phone with the caterer, anyway. Finish up those details. At least it’s a caterer Cecelia likes.”
Jordyn snorted. “Yes, when it’s other people’s parties.”
“I think she’ll just be happy to have a party at all this year.”
Well, that’s what they were all hoping, really.
“All right. Call me later if you need to rant about Dante again,” Jordyn said.
Catrina laughed lowly. “Will do.”
“MA!”
The girlish screech on the other end of the phone made Jordyn wince. Good God, Catherine had a set of lungs on her. Everybody in their family thought the girl was a lot like her mother, but louder and with a touch of her father to color her up.
No one dared to tell Catrina that her daughter was just like her, though.
“Okay, the principessa calls,” Catrina said with a sigh.
“Give her kisses for me.”
“Will do.”
Jordyn hung up with her sister-in-law, and then checked the line. She had barely moved at all. In fact, there were four lines altogether, and every single one of them went all the way back to the front of the building. Four more people had come in to stand behind Jordyn. Almost everyone in front of her had a box filled with stuff to mail.
Presents, likely.
Catrina was right.
This was a busy time of year.
Oh, well.
Jordyn didn’t have much of a choice but to wait. She would definitely be missing Lucian’s call, though. That made her a little sad.
She was still counting down her days.
Waiting on him …
• • •
Jordyn groaned in relief as she kicked off the heeled boots in the entryway of her home. She nudged the toe-killers into the corner, and vowed never to wear the damn things again if she knew standing for long periods of time was a good possibility. Her feet ached, and her toes felt like they were broken.
She swore the bigger the price tag on a pair of shoes, the more uncomfortable they could be. Yet, she loved the stupid things enough to keep buying them.
Plus, they made her legs look great.
After she put her bag and coat away, Jordyn headed for the kitchen. She found the phone blinking with a missed call. The familiar number made her frown.
The jail.
Still, it seemed Lucian had left a message. She opted to listen to it now and if everything was okay, she could play it for the kids later once they got back from Giovanni and Kim’s place. Hitting the play button, Lucian’s voice filtered through the speaker.
“Missed you again, Jordyn. Let the kids know I love them. I’ll call tomorrow. I hope they like the early surprise Santa left for them and you. Ciao, amore.”
Jordyn’s brow furrowed.
What surprise?
Nothing had looked out of place in the entryway, and not in the kitchen. Her front door had still been locked when she finally got back home from the post office. She had no idea what Lucian was talking about, but she supposed that was probably his point.
She would figure it out later.
While she had the house to herself for a little bit, she had other things to do. Pick up toys, vacuum floors, and strip some beds. The chores never ended, really. They had a twice a week maid, but that was only because Lucian got irritated when Jordyn tried to do everything herself. She got irritated when the maid tried to do more than Jordyn wanted her to.
It was a delicate line.
She headed for the living room to pick up the mess of toys Cella had left earlier in the day. She only took one step inside the space, and froze right where she stood.
When she left that morning, their Christmas tree had been empty underneath it. All of the kids’ presents were safely locked away in her walk-in closet, needing to be wrapped and labeled. Some from her and Lucian, and some from Santa.
Now, however, what had been bare space under the Christmas tree was full of gifts. Small, and big. Gold, red, silver, and blue wrapping papers. Long boxes, a couple of bags with tissue paper sticking out of the top, and ribbons tied to each gift. A bow accompanied each gift, too.
Jordyn stepped forward, and reached for a folded up card that rested on one of the bigger gifts. Opening it, she found a sweet note staring back at her.
Merry Christmas, Marcellos.
Santa had to help Daddy this year.
We hope you don’t mind!
XOXO
Jordyn smiled, and held the card a little tighter between the tips of her fingers. She recognized the handwriting on the card as her father-in-law’s. Antony was one of the few people who did have access to their home with a spare key.
Wow, Jordyn thought as she looked over the gifts.
Lucian figured out a way to help and kind of be present, after all.
December 19th
The clang of metal on metal had Lucian’s eyes popping open. For the most part, the jail was quiet. He was in a single cell with no bunkmate, and he liked that just fine. Sometimes, the occasional drunk was brought in during the late evening or early morning hours. The sounds of their grumblings or whatever else could be annoying, but nothing too bad.
Certainly not like prison.
That place was a special kind of hell. Lucian would deal with the slight annoyances of jail.
“You up in there, Marcello, or what?”
Lucian blinked at the stucco ceiling. “I am now.”
He didn’t even bother to look at the guard who had woken him up. He knew them all by name, now. Usually, the guards treated him with a healthy respect.
And for good reason, he supposed. His last name afforded him that kind of peace.
There were, however, a couple of special guards that took great pleasure in smirking at him from behind the bars. As though they were taunting him in their minds.
He ignored that shit, too.
Mostly because the bastards never had the balls to open their mouths and actually say something.
“Get up, we gotta transfer ya, man.”
The guard’s heavy Brooklyn accent reminded Lucian of his younger years. It brought back memories of his father—his biological father, not his adoptive one. Time and life and privilege had all but drained his family’s old inflections.
His bio-father … in his memories … always sounded like a Brooklyn native, though.
“Are you getting up, or what?” the guard asked.
Lucian sighed, and rolled over on the metal bed. His back protested every single fucking movement. He felt twice his age because of this place. That was another shitty thing about being in lockup. Another thing to add to his pile that he missed about being back home.
The bed was a piece of garbage. The mattress—if you could even call it that—was nothing more tha
n a one-inch piece of foam covered by a scratchy sheet. It did nothing to soften the hard surface beneath it. The pillow was some plastic covered nonsense, and equally as thin as the mattress. The blanket it came with?
Also garbage.
It was jail, though.
Lucian stopped complaining because what was the point? He had gotten himself here, after all. It was what it was.
Standing up, Lucian eyed the guard outside the cell as he stretched his limbs. The small cell did little to satisfy his need to move, be active, and shake off the general restlessness inside his mind and body.
The guard rolled his eyes as Lucian turned on the faucet to the sink, and grabbed a handful of water to cup to his mouth for a drink.
“You’re sure draggin’ your ass today, huh?”
Lucian shrugged. “Nowhere to be but here at the moment, man.”
“Sure, sure.”
“Transfer, you said?”
The guard nodded. “Yep. Or something like that. I don’t know, I’m not given a lot of details on what’s working, Lucian. I just take you to where I am told to.”
“All right.”
Lucian stepped up to the cell, and put his hands through the slot. Quickly, the guard slapped on a pair of cuffs, and waved for him to step back again. Once he had, the bars were unlocked and opened, allowing Lucian the illusion of freedom.
Next to his hour a day outside to blow off some steam—not that it was worth anything being as cold as it was—he didn’t leave his cell.
“You gotta see the judge, I guess,” the guard told him.
Lucian cocked a brow. “The judge?”
The guard shrugged. “I just deliver you where you gotta go, Marcello. I told you that.”
Right, right.
• • •
Lucian allowed the officer to help him from the back of the cruiser. High above his head, plastered to the white brick of a building, he read the name of the courthouse. He still didn’t have the first damn clue about what was going on.
He requested to call his lawyer. The cop told him that he wouldn’t need to. He asked for details on what was happening. Nothing was explained.
Lucian was starting to dislike this more and more. He couldn’t help it. His very nature was to be suspicious and paranoid.
That shit saved his life.
“One step ahead of me, Marcello,” the cop demanded, “and no funny business, either.”
Lucian gave the guy a look.
Who the fuck did he think he was dealing with?
Lucian knew how this shit went.
“Let’s go,” the cop said. “I’ll tell you where to go once we’re inside.”
Lucian did as he was told. Once inside the building, they went through security and the metal detectors. He glowered at a female security guard as she patted him down, and came a little too close for comfort to his junk.
“Been a while?” the woman asked him with a smile.
“Keep touching me,” Lucian told her, “and I’ll let my wife know the name and number on your badge.”
The woman stepped back.
Lucian only smiled at her.
“Be nice, Marcello,” the cop said as he was taken down another set of hallways. “This is supposed to be a good day for you, or something like that.”
What?
Lucian didn’t even bother to ask.
A few minutes, and an elevator ride later, Lucian stared at the name of a judge printed on a cherry-stained door.
Chambers of the Honorable Judge Theodore Nolaw.
“I seriously fucking hope I wasn’t dragged out of my cell today for some set up with Feds, or nonsense like that,” Lucian grumbled. “Waste of your damn time, as you all have already been told.”
The cop chuckled.
He was kind of serious.
It wouldn’t be the first time they had pulled that shit on him. Like they thought getting a few months in lock up was somehow going to shake the fear into his bones, and put him on the path of right in his life.
Bullshit.
God hadn’t done that.
Jail time hadn’t done that.
Nothing was going to do that.
He liked being who he was, even if that person lived in the gray of life, never entirely good, but never entirely bad, either.
“I will be waiting out here to unlock your cuffs once you’re finished with your meeting,” the cop said.
Lucian should have taken that as his first clue today was going to be a good day for him. Instead, he got distracted by the man waiting inside the judge’s chambers as the door was opened for him.
Giovanni.
His brother.
His lawyer.
“Care for a get out of jail free card?” Gio asked.
Lucian smirked. “Pulled that out of your ass, did you?”
“Gotta save my tricks for the bad ones, man.”
Damn.
He loved his brother.
“Antony is going to owe me big time for this one,” the judge muttered behind his desk.
Lucian cocked an eyebrow as the door was closed behind him. Apparently, he should also be thanking his father.
He wasn’t surprised.
December 20th
“Oh, you girls did wonderful.”
Jordyn smiled at her mother-in-law’s praise. “We really did try, Cecelia.”
“I know. And I did shove it on you all last minute, didn’t I?”
“A little,” Jordyn said with a laugh.
Cecelia shrugged, and spun a small circle in the great hall of the Marcello mansion. It made the skirt of her deep green dress spin wide around her legs, and showed off the kitten heels she wore. Even at her age, Cecelia still liked to wear heels. It always made Jordyn smile.
“Yes, well, no matter. You all did amazing. Look at this place.”
Jordyn had.
A lot.
Several times over the past few days.
The final details of the Christmas party had come together fantastically. It helped that each of the girls—her, Kim, and Catrina—each fulfilled their duties, and without issue or complaint. Nothing was left hanging. Everything fell into place just so.
The decorations were up.
A live tree was in every room.
Lights twinkled.
Hot food was waiting.
Jordyn and Cecelia stepped to the side as servers carrying trays moved from the kitchen through the great hall. The hired staff moved quietly between spaces as they readied for guests. They didn’t seem to need much help with their jobs.
For that, Jordyn was grateful.
As it was, the girls still had enough to handle on their own. Greeting guests. Making sure every single little thing planned for the night went off without a hitch. Keeping Cecelia placated and happy so that she would trust them more often with parties and the like.
Cecelia eyed one of the trays with sweets as the last of the servers passed them by. “I tried one of those earlier.”
Jordyn gave her mother-in-law a look. “Cecelia.”
“I had to try the food, now.”
“Seriously.”
Cecelia waved a hand. “I had to. It’s very good, by the way.”
Jordyn hid her smile by taking a sip of water she had been nursing for a half hour. It was supposed to be her time for a break, after all.
“Is that so?” she asked.
“Quite good.”
“Even for catering?”
Cecelia rolled her eyes upward. “Well, I do know you girls cooked a bit.”
“We did.”
“But the catering is also good, Jordyn.”
She let her smile bloom in full force at that, not bothering to hide it a bit. Despite all of the reservations Cecelia had seemed to have for this party, Jordyn was pleased to see the woman was impressed, and enjoying herself.
So far.
The guests had yet to arrive.
Speaking of which …
Jordyn checked her watch.
Jordyn nodded. “Just about. Cars will be coming up the drive soon enough.”
Cecelia turned to look over the only tree in the great hall. It stood tall at over twenty feet. The top damn near grazed the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The girls had opted for a different color scheme in each space where the guests would be using for the party. The main room was blue and silver. The kitchen, gold. The entertainment room, green and red.
The main hall?
White and red.
The large tree was all decked out in the Christmas colors. White twinkle lights flashed along with the music that pumped out from the sound system at a low level. Instead of traditional Christmas carols, they had opted for a more choir feel in their choices.
From the living room, Jordyn could hear the kids laughing and playing with toys. Gifts that their grandparents had allowed them to open early.
“Everything is perfect,” Cecelia said, smiling to herself.
Even as she said that, Jordyn thought she heard an echo of sadness in her mother-in-law’s tone. She wasn’t entirely sure, but she didn’t want Cecelia upset in any way. This was intended to be a good, happy, and relaxing day for her.
“Something is wrong,” Jordyn said. “So what is it, Cecelia?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“Just tell me. I’m sure I could fix it. We’ve got …” Jordyn checked her watch again. “Well, like three minutes. But hey, have faith. What is it?”
Cecelia laughed quietly, and turned to pat her daughter-in-law on the cheek with a soft, gentle palm. “Nothing, dear. I was just thinking it would have been nice to have Lucian here, that’s all. He likes Christmas—it’s the only holiday he does care for. But … what can you do?”
Jordyn’s own happiness deflated a bit.
She couldn’t help it.
“Apparently, we can’t always get what we want for Christmas,” Jordyn murmured.
Cecelia sighed. “No, we cannot.”
“Cecelia, I am not wearing this damn Santa hat!”
Antony’s shout echoed from somewhere upstairs on the second level. Cecelia gave Jordyn a little wink before heading in the direction of her husband’s voice.
