The grand doors of the villa swung open just as Damien’s hand reached for the bell.
“Merry Christmas!” Giovanni’s voice boomed, rich and warm, like a fire cracking through fine bourbon. “What a pleasure to see you two again.”
He stood framed by soft golden light, the very picture of decadent charm. His emerald velvet blazer clung to broad shoulders with the kind of tailored ease only old money could afford. Dark hair slicked back, a kiss of silver at his temples, and champagne flutes in hand—Giovanni didn’t just celebrate holidays. He orchestrated them.
“Here,” he said, offering the glasses like a benediction. “To family. Old, new, and the kind that actually matters.”
Damien accepted his with a short nod, while Amelia took hers with a grateful smile, the cold crystal tingling against h
