by M. Robinson
“It’s fine. Go.”
And it is fine. However I feel about this house, it’s been clear from the moment we stepped into the room that disaster is not imminent. No one is trying to catch my eye for help or to create a diversion. It’s Christmas Eve, the house is full of guests, and we’re all playing our parts tonight.
Lucian and Elaine saunter off. Behind me, my father laughs. It sounds genuine enough, and drunk. He could become a problem later. Not yet. Haley leans in close, looping her arm through mine, and looks up at me with her huge, blue eyes. The hope there is a sweet, soft carol. I’m not supposed to be in the business of wanting things that are sweet or soft.
Too late now.
The ring I gave her glitters on her finger, and underneath her dress are fading bite marks and bruises that she begs me for more of. I’d be lying if I said she makes me feel calm. She makes me feel alive, and awake, and intense, all of it focused through her. Tempered by her, in a way. Steadied.
“What do you think?” I gesture at the decorations. The chandeliers. The gold accents. Miles of holly. “It’s not as fancy as the Constantine parties.”
Haley bursts out laughing, and it’s such a beautiful sound. Pleasure answers in my heart. I lived a life largely devoid of pleasure before Haley, and to feel it at all is still a surprise. “Not as fancy,” she whispers. Several deep breaths later and she’s settled, leaning into me again, leaning close. “Where’s Eva?”
“I don’t know.” There are people everywhere. I would expect Eva to be in the middle of them, now that there’s no receiving line—part of the crowd, but in sight of the entrance. I take out my phone and send her a text.
Leo: ?
Her reply arrives almost immediately.
Eva: Kitchen
“Let’s go on a tour.” I keep Haley close and turn toward the far end of the foyer. I can feel her relief. Haley loves parties. She dreams about them, in fact. This one’s not as straightforward as a dream. We reach the end of the space, where there’s a door no one notices except for staff. The staff, and the children of the household.
This hallway runs along the side of the house and lets out closer to the back, where the kitchen is. It’s crowded with servers and all the many people who make a party of this size possible. None of them pay any attention to us. That’s where we find Eva.
She’s in her element. I have no idea what she’s fixing down here, in the middle of all these caterers and cooks, and I wish things were different for her. Perhaps it’s a foolish thing to hope for.
Not fixing yet. I was mistaken. She is planning. Eva turns her head at our entrance. “You’re here,” she says. “How are things upstairs?”
“Fine. I thought you hired caterers.”
“I did. And they screwed up the mince pies. They don’t know what they’re supposed to taste like, so I’m going to fix them before they go out.”
“Eva.” My sister looks up at me. The mince pies are important to our mother, but no one else will notice. “You’ll be here all night. There are a thousand of those things.”
“Can I help?” Haley steps closer, surveying the prep table in front of Eva. “Maybe both of us?”
“No, no. It’s better this way.” Eva’s not just saying this. She has a determined light in her eyes, and the smile that flickers across her face is real enough. “You should be with everyone else. I don’t need help. Show Haley the party.”
“I can wait,” Haley says. “It’s no big deal.”
“You will not wait,” Eva answers lightly, one hand in the air. She’s counting the tiny pies. “You will go upstairs, and look beautiful in your dress—I love it, by the way—and watch my brother try not to smile when they do the tree lighting.”
Chapter Three
Haley
Growing up, I heard a lot of rumors about the Morellis. People in my family repeated them so often and so easily that I assumed they were true. It was obviously true that all the Morellis were evil criminals. It was obviously true that one of them had murdered Uncle Lane. It was obviously true that they were worse than the Constantines. More corrupt and bloodthirsty and bad.
It embarrasses me now, to think of how I believed those things.
Leo whisks me back upstairs. On the way to the ballroom, we pass through a long hallway decorated with lush firs.
I enter the warmth and noise of the ballroom on Leo’s arm, my heart pounding. There’s his sister Daphne, cutting through the crowd with a smile on her face and a glass of champagne in her hand. There’s his older brother Lucian, his hand protectively on the small of my cousin Elaine’s back. Lucian turns his head to look out over the ballroom. I see him see us, and nod, almost to himself.
No, the Morelli Manson is not my Aunt Caroline’s home. This space is darker. In general, the furniture is heavier, the ceilings higher, the air more weighted with expectation. It’s more formal here. I can see at least one person who might be a priest, or a bishop. The details are different.
But—and I’m ashamed to come to the realization so late, only after falling in love with Leo Morelli—his family is much more like mine than the Constantines want to admit.
Leo’s nodding to people with what I’ve come to know as his I’m-in-public expression. A glint to his eyes that might be dangerous. The hint of a smile around his mouth. “What about you, darling? A drink before dinner? Dancing? A sleigh ride?”
“Is that a joke?” There’s laughter in his eyes, but seriously—sleigh rides? The Morellis? “Are there really sleighs?”
He laughs. “The sleighs are deadly serious, and real. They’re taking people on tours of the grounds, if you want to go.” Before I can answer, he looks over my head. “Daphne.”
She’s at my side in an instant, eyes twinkling, cheeks pink. “He’s not here, Leo. You have to let go of this obsession.”
Daphne’s talking about her collector. She’s an artist, and from what I can tell, this man saw one of her paintings in a gallery one day and fell head over heels with the art. And maybe Daphne herself. Leo was not thrilled to find out that he’d broken into her apartment to leave a gift for her. He hated it so much that he had her moved into his house that day, and she’s living with us there now.
Leo narrows his eyes. “Is he not?”
Daphne narrows her eyes back. “No. Obviously. I’m not going to bring him to any party where you are.”
“You’re blushing like you have him hidden in one of the bedrooms.”
“Leo. When are you going to take me seriously? I’m an adult. You can’t protect me from everything.”
“I can protect you from men who break into your apartment.” He sighs. “I wasn’t going to ask you about your collector. You’re the one who started talking about him.”
“Then what?” Daphne teases. “You want to talk about the mural in my bedroom?”
Daphne is painting one of the walls in the guest suite where she’s staying in Leo’s house. She bothers him about it every day, and every day, Leo insists that she should do whatever she wants and stop asking him about it.
Daphne screws up her lips into a thoughtful pout. “A forest scene would make more sense in your house. I want it to make sense.”
“Jesus Christ, Daphne.”
“I want you to care, Leo. This is what matters to me. Care about this, and not about the collector.”
“You keep talking about him like he’s in the next room.”
“He might be.” She shrugs. “I don’t keep tabs on him.”
Leo throws a long-suffering gaze at the ceiling, then looks back down at his sister. Once upon a time she told me that he is her favorite brother. I think she’s only half-teasing about the painting. She really does want him to weigh in.
“It is Christmas Eve, Daphne,” he says. “I care deeply about your mural. I want it to be whatever makes sense in my house, as long as that’s what you want it to be, and stay away from strange men who sneak into your apartment. Okay? It’s all I want for the holiday.”
; She laughs. “I’m doing the ocean, then.”
“Good. I love the ocean. It’s fucking perfect. Do the best ocean you’ve ever painted and I’ll keep it on the wall forever.”
“I’d have to re-paint eventually,” Daphne says.
“My god.”
I can only describe the way they fight as extremely Morelli. Daphne bickers with a smile on her face, and Leo splits the difference between looking pissed off and amused. They could be having a lighthearted back-and-forth about a book or a TV show or negotiating a business deal.
Everything I heard about Leo before I met him painted him as dangerously volatile, at the mercy of his runaway temper. Not capable of a conversation like this one.
In reality, it’s the other way around. Life has caused him so much pain that he has no choice but to be in complete control of himself. It’s very rare for his anger to overpower him, and when it does, it’s because the situation is unbearable.
Not so different from some of the Constantines I know.
People are having a good time. There are smiles on faces and drinks in hands, and the swell of conversation is the normal lift and fall of a large group. Laughter bubbles over from a pair of women nearby. If the Morellis really were all unhinged murderers, why would anyone be at this party? If they were the true scum of the earth, why would all these people have dressed up in their best black tie?
They’re not. That’s the real answer. The Morellis, like the Constantines, are haughty and privileged and ultimately decent people who care about each other. They have their complications. Some of them are better than others. But I can’t judge the evil ones more harshly than the Constantines. Not now that I know the truth about Caroline. Both families have their monsters.
“That’s my daughter.” My dad steps around a couple, who move out of his way with indulgent smiles. My brother is right behind him. “Sweetheart. We just got here a few minutes ago. This place is enormous.” He gives me a quick hug. “Leo! Daphne. Thought we’d get lost finding you. Lots of people here, eh?”
“Dad!” My dad got a smudge of make on the breast of his black tux. I wipe at it. “Be more careful,” I scold, but there’s no heat in it. I’m too happy to see a familiar face in this sea of unfamiliar ones.
“Sorry. Have my head in the clouds,” he says ruefully.
“Or more specifically, in his latest invention,” Cash says, looking grown up in his tux. He hugs me, too, more careful of my makeup. “Hey, Hales. You look great.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“I’m happy to talk about it,” Leo says, his smile indulgent. “In fact I saw the Chaplin brothers across the ballroom. They own a manufacturing factory that might be perfect for—”
My father’s eyes light up. “You think they have the precision? We need a variation of no more than 0.04 millimeters to get the calibration correct.”
“Let’s go ask them,” Leo says.
“Right now?” my dad asks with an enormous grin on his face. Making progress on one of his inventions is the best Christmas present he could ask for.
“Is that okay?” Leo murmurs to me, his voice lower.
The truth is I’m nervous about standing in the middle of the Morelli gala without Leo by my side. But I also don’t want him to feel trapped. What if he thinks I’m clingy? He’s brave. I should be, too. Besides, I have Daphne and Cash with me. “Of course it’s okay.”
Then they’re off, weaving through men in tuxes and women in elaborate gowns.
That leaves my brother and Daphne, two people I love.
“He loves his work, doesn’t he?” Daphne asks Cash.
“He loves it so much he’s willing to burn the house down for it.” Cash rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Other than a few kitchen fires, we’ve managed to keep it to a small explosion in the basement. The fire extinguisher worked, thanks to Haley checking them regularly.”
Daphne’s eyes go wide. “An explosion?”
The crowd next to us parts and Sarah Morelli appears. By next month she’ll be my mother-in-law. We’ve met multiple times, but only when I was with Leo. She’s petite and pretty with red hair and fine features I recognize from Leo’s face. Her eyes move over the three of us. The look in her eyes is distant, haughty, and a little bit sad. I know better than to relax my guard, though. “Daphne. Haley.” She finally settles on Cash, who stiffens. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.
“This is my brother, Cash. I think you might have met him at the engagement party.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Morelli.” Cash looks nervous under her cool gaze.
She inclines her head in a regal nod.
“Sarah!” comes a voice through the throng. A woman pushes her way to us. She looks about the same age as Sarah Morelli. “So nice to see you. Thank you for the invitation, of course. My Rolly and I adore spending time in your lovely home.”
“Victoria,” Sarah says, her voice no warmer for this woman than it was for Cash.
The woman named Victoria looks at me. And does a double take. I can tell she recognizes us as Constantines from the way she tenses. I don’t recognize her, but that doesn’t mean much. The Constantines are notorious, even the poor cousins like me. And with my white-blonde hair I can’t hide my identity.
“Hello, Mrs. Lowell,” Daphne says, breaking the awkward silence. She sounds nervous. Which matches my mood. “This is Haley, Leo’s fiancée. And her brother Cash.”
Another heavy pause. My stomach drops. It’s clear that Sarah Morelli won’t step in to save us from whatever wrath this woman holds against the Constantines. Maybe my mother-in-law wants me to face Victoria Lowell’s insults. She must feel like her tongue is tied since Leo insists she acts decent to me. Perhaps this is her revenge.
“Nice to see you again, dear,” Victoria murmurs to Daphne. Then she turns back to Sarah without acknowledging me. Or Cash. “You are beautiful as ever, Sarah. As is your home, but you might want to call a plumber. There’s a terrible smell in this ballroom.”
Daphne gasps. Cold washes over my body, as harsh as a bucket of ice water dumped on my head. This isn’t a small slight or a minor insult. This is a direct assault in the warfare of society. I never fit in at the Constantine parties. We were too poor, too weird, too bookish. I’m used to snide comments and innuendos, but this is on another level.
My body flushes first cold and then hot. I wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole. Cash shifts uncomfortably beside me. He always defended me at Constantine parties, but here, surrounded by Morellis?
“That was rude,” Daphne says, more of a whisper than words.
She’s trying to stand up for me, and it breaks my heart. She shouldn’t have to do that. If Leo knew what happened he’d probably rampage around the gala like the beast they think he is. He can protect me from fists and bullets, but not from this.
Sarah watches me steadily.
This has become a test. To see whether I can survive in the deep waters of the Morelli empire.
The weight of the ring on my left hand reminds me that I do belong here. I glance down at the black diamond flashing there. I am one of them now, or I will be in a matter of weeks. Leo chose me. He’s going to marry me, and that will make me a Morelli whether this woman likes it or not.
I lift my chin, determined to establish my place. “I noticed the smell, too, but I wasn’t going to say anything. It only started when Victoria arrived.”
The older woman gasps. Her mouth drops open. No words come out.
Leo glides his hand along the small of my back, the heat of him announcing his presence. “Is there a problem? Mother?”
She gives him a cool smile. “Victoria and I were just leaving. Enjoy the gala.”
“What happened?” His dark eyes are on me now.
I laugh, and he arches an eyebrow like I’m deranged. I laugh louder. Someone in the crowd looks over at me, concerned. Well, maybe I am slightly deranged.
But I did it. I stood up for myself against a wealthy
, powerful matron at a Morelli event. In front of my mother-in-law, no less. And if I’m not mistaken there was a glimmer of new respect in her green eyes when she left.
I don’t need Leo to protect me. I can protect both of us.
Chapter Four
Haley
“Well,” Daphne says. “That was…” Her cheeks are still red, and I read an apology in her eyes. “I think I’ll get another drink.”
“I’ll go with you. If that’s fine.” Cash wants out of this crowd, and probably to make sure my dad hasn’t entrapped the Chaplin brothers into spending the rest of the evening hearing about his inventions.
“Of course.” Daphne sashays away into the crowd, Cash following.
Leo turns me so I have to look into his eyes. “Tell me what Victoria Lowell said to you.”
“No.”
He takes my hand in his, angling us a different way, and that’s how thin the line is. Arguing. Dancing. We can do both at the same time. The music is loud enough, other couples are close enough. “Yes.”
“What she said doesn’t matter.”
“I disagree.” We’re fully on the dance floor now. People stay out of Leo’s way. That’s because he has no hesitation about taking up space, and also because they’re wary of him. His reputation is real here. “If she insulted my fiancée, I want a word with her.” Anger flashes in his eyes. I can feel it where I’m touching him. It’s a tension like an electrical storm.
I move my hand up from his shoulder to the side of his face. “Don’t think about it for another second. It’s done. I handled it.”
“I’ll throw her out of the party,” Leo says, leaning into my touch. It’s subtle with him, unless you’re paying attention.
“I know.”
“I’ll cause an enormous fucking scene. I don’t care.”
“Yes, you do. It’s Christmas Eve. It’s your favorite, and they haven’t done the tree lightning yet.”
“I don’t care about—” I tip my head up and kiss him. Leo takes instant control, tasting and nipping. But then he pulls back. “Are you sure?”
