Montedoro was beautiful at Christmas. This year, the beautification committee put up a forest of brightly lit trees in a rainbow of colors around the casino and the Triangle d’Or. As always, all the staterooms of the palace were decorated, each with its own Christmas tree, with swags and lights on every banister and mantel.
There were parades and special Christmas markets, and an endless round of gala celebrations. Damien went to the market as was expected. He attended the parties. At the Christmas Ball, he danced with his mother and sisters and sisters-in-law.
He went through the motions required of him. He smiled. He chatted. He held up his end. If anyone noticed his heart wasn’t in it, they had the good sense to keep their observations to themselves.
Noah surprised him with a call on Christmas Eve. “Merry Christmas, Dami. I saw the pictures of you and Lucy and that hot blonde. Didn’t like seeing those.”
What could he say? “It was embarrassing. I should have handled it better, seen Susie coming.”
“Her name is Susie, huh?”
“We all have regrets, Noah,” he answered flatly. “Things we should have done better. Things we probably shouldn’t have done at all.”
“Hey. I hear you there.” And then Noah actually laughed. “I talked to Lucy about those pictures. She told me—again—to stay out of her business. I’m trying to do that. She says I’m getting better. Alice says so, too. I’m telling myself that’s progress.” A pause, then, “Lucy says you’re not seeing each other anymore.”
He felt a definite twinge somewhere deep in his chest. “That’s right.”
“That’s too bad. I was kind of getting used to the idea of the two of you together.”
He really didn’t want to talk about it. He said nothing. Maybe Noah would take a hint.
No such luck. “Alice says...” Noah let his voice trail off, leading him on.
And Dami took the bait, demanding bleakly, “Alice says what?”
“That you’re in love with my sister and that Lucy loves you back. That the two of you have been in love almost since you met—it just took you both a couple of years to figure it out.”
Dami had no idea what to say to that.
Noah spoke again. “I make it a point to listen to Alice. She’s usually right.”
“Noah.” It came out loud and very aggressive. He lowered his voice with effort. “It’s over.” He was not, under any circumstances, going to ask about her. But then, of course, he did. “How’s she doing?”
“Okay, as far as I can tell. Celebrating Christmas with her new friends. That would be Tabby from Lucy’s favorite diner and Tabby’s new boyfriend, whose name is Henry, and the older woman on Lucy’s floor in your building, the one recovering from a heart attack.”
He’d been wondering about Mrs. Nichols even though he’d never actually met the woman face-to-face. “Viviana’s her name. She’s getting better, you said?”
“She’s doing well. And she’s at home now. One of her daughters is staying with her. After New Year’s she’s moving to Chicago, I think Lucy said. Lucy said her neighbor is very independent, but she also understands that the time has come when she needs to live near her family.”
“Luce will miss her.”
“I think she’s already making plans for a visit to Chicago.”
Damien made a low sound that could have meant anything and then kept his mouth shut. Better to leave it alone, stop talking about her.
When the silence stretched out, Noah said, “Well, I only called to wish you happy holidays. Alice sends her love.”
“Take good care of my sister.”
“I will— And, Dami?”
“What?”
“You’re an idiot, you know that?”
He didn’t even bother to get angry. There was nothing to be angry about. It was only the truth on a whole lot of levels. “Happy holidays, Noah.” And that was that.
Christmas morning he had breakfast in his parents’ private apartments. Five of his siblings were there, along with their spouses and children. It was a happy time. They ate and opened the gifts piled high under the fifteen-foot Christmas tree, set up as always in the curve of the stairway by the door.
Around noon, on his own, he took several small brightly wrapped packages and walked to the café in La Cacheron where he’d taken Lucy at Thanksgiving. The café was always open on Christmas Day from nine to two. Regular customers appreciated being able to get their croissants and beignets fresh even on the holiday. The walk was a pleasant one and he didn’t spot a single paparazzo. Apparently, even the tabloid vultures took a little time off for Christmas.
The café was quiet when he got there, with only two customers, one at the counter and another at a table by himself in the center of the room. Dami took a corner seat and put the presents on the table. Justine served him his usual coffee and pastry. She chose a gift and smiled a thank-you. One by one the others came by. Each took a gift and thanked him. They all knew what was inside. He gave them all the same Christmas tip every year, each one tucked in a small box and wrapped in bright paper tied with a shiny bow.
He was sipping the last of his coffee when the door opened and in strode Vesuvia. Before he had time to do anything but wish himself elsewhere, she spotted him and stalked over like a lioness on the hunt.
“There you are.” She posed with her nose in the air, one hand on the back of the bentwood chair across from him. “I knew you would be here.”
“Come on, V. Let’s not do this again. I’m through, you’re through. It’s over, long over. And we both know it.”
She yanked back the chair and flung herself into it. “This is ridiculous.” At least she was whispering. And the café remained nearly empty. It was just possible he could get rid of her without too much of a scene. She added, “I know that you and the tacky little wannabe fashion designer are through.”
Fury blasted through him. “Do not speak of her,” he said, very softly. And how did she know that he and Lucy were through? Better not to ask.
V sneered, “She doesn’t matter, anyway.”
He smacked his fist on the table. His cup, spoon and plate jumped.
Vesuvia’s sculpted nostrils flared. But when she spoke again, still whispering, she had the sense to leave Lucy out of it. “You must stop being so stubborn. I want to get moving on our wedding plans. It’s going to be the wedding of the decade, Dami. And as of now, we have only a year to put it together.”
“There isn’t going to be any wedding,” he said.
For
