Page 75 of Vicious Impulses (The Capo and Ballerina)
“For me?”
“What do you think?” She tugs open the door to one of the hallway closets and reveals the boxes upon boxes of decor stacked inside. “We’re going to have our work cut out for us. I’ll tell you that.”
I step forward and pick up a glittering silver streamer. “We’ll get it done. Do you think we can leave the tree for last? I’d like if he’d decorate it with me.”
“You are a cute little thing. So hopeful. We’ll see howthatgoes.”
We spend the rest of the morning hanging wreaths and mistletoe. Streamers and Christmas lights go up throughout the large manor. Poinsettia plants are put out on display, along with candles that’ll make the place not just look like Christmas but smell like it too.
I place my hands on my hips, admiring the end results in the den. The room glitters in a way that would put anyone in a festive mood.
Maybe even Caelian.
The naked fir tree stands tall at the far side of the room, awaiting our decorative touch. Ms. Poitier called on Umberto and another staff member to help us set it up.
“Well, let’s hope Caelian’ll decorate it with you,” she says, nudging my side. “Lord knows that man could use a little Christmas cheer.”
* * *
Dinner is the first time I see Caelian all day. He strides into the room with his broad, bulked-up shoulders looking as if they’re carrying the weight of the world. He takes his seat to the right of me with barely a glance or acknowledgment of my presence.
His expression is no better—his jaw holds tension, and any warmth has been extinguished from his dark gray eyes.
I frown even as I try to remain unaffected. “The kitchen staff prepared one of your favorites: osso buco. I’ve never tried it before, but it smells delicious.”
Caelian gives a grunt, but otherwise makes no attempt to engage me.
He’s heaped large portions of food onto his plate and begins working his way through it in moody silence.
I struggle controlling my next exhale of breath—I’m so tempted to draw it out and make it known his bad mood irritates me.
It’s only after I remind myself we’ll wind up in a fight that I don’t. He’s probably had a stressful day dealing with his family’s operation and the ongoing feud with the Vorones. We were attacked a second time in weeks by the rival family. Could relations be worsening even more than they already have been?
I clear my throat as I spool linguine around my fork. “What do you think of the Christmas decorations? Ms. P and I spent all day on them.”
Caelian nods, his mouth full of food, the muscles in his jaw and throat bouncing as he chews. I wait another moment to see if he’ll offer any real words once he swallows. Wishful thinking that doesn’t come true; he merely goes for more polenta and veal.
“I was hoping we could do the tree together…”
He reaches for his wine glass and washes down what he’s eaten with a long drink. If possible, his expression has grown moodier, less engaged. His behavior couldn’t be more standoffish and dismissive. He still hasn’t looked me in the eye.
My stomach roils. I search for what could be the cause. Things had been so good between us last night. We’d gone out to the theater, and though we’d been attacked, it had been a good time. We enjoyed ourselves and came home to act out the passion that had been building for hours.
Could Caelian be feeling unwell?
“If you don’t want to decorate, we don’t have to…”
“We’ll do it,” he snaps, even his tone cold. Finally, he pierces me with a look. Hard and almost reproachful. “If that’s what you want to do this evening, we’ll decorate the tree.”
The roiling sensation in my stomach goes nowhere. It only intensifies, making me lose what little appetite I’ve had.
I can’t help feeling like I’m missing something. Something Caelian refuses to tell me.
Once the table’s cleared and dinner is over, we move into the den where the huge fir tree awaits to be decorated.
Umberto delivers a step ladder for me to reach some of the higher up spots on the tree. I thank him and turn to Caelian with a miniature nutcracker in hand.
“Do you want to hang the first ornament?”