Christmas morning arrived wrapped in silence and soft gray light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the chalet.
Fukky woke slowly, body still heavy with the ache of last night’s teasing, the memory of three sets of eyes devouring her naked skin on the living-room rug burned behind her eyelids.
She stretched beneath the thick duvet, expecting cold sheets and solitude—then froze when her hand brushed something smooth and wrapped.
Three gifts sat on the pillow beside her, each tied with a different ribbon: black velvet for Rafael, deep crimson silk for Augustine, matte silver for Gabriel.
Her heart kicked hard.
She sat up—still naked under the covers—and reached for the first one.
Rafael’s gift was small, heavy.
She tore the black paper carefully.
Inside a slim velvet b
