Christmas Eve dinner unfolded like a carefully orchestrated performance, every detail designed to remind Fukky exactly where she stood in this house.
The dining room was vast, all dark wood and high ceilings, lit only by tall silver candelabras and the fire roaring in the massive stone hearth.
The table was set for four—white linen, crystal stemware, heavy silver cutlery that caught the candlelight like knives.
Rafael sat at the head, posture perfect, black cashmere sweater clinging to the hard lines of his shoulders and chest.
Augustine lounged to his right, sleeves rolled to his elbows, golden forearms flexing every time he reached for the wine decanter.
Gabriel sat opposite her—silent, watchful, gray eyes reflecting the flames like polished steel.
Fukky felt like prey invited to t
