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Then started laughing at the same time, and the sound puffed white into the air.

“Hold still,” Stas murmured.

I did.

He tugged off his gloves and cupped my cheek. His thumb, warm from the glove, swept icing from the corner of my mouth. Then he leaned in and kissed the spot he’d just cleaned, soft and quick. Not enough to draw attention, just enough to make my knees threaten mutiny.

“We’re in public,” I whispered.

“You’re good at stating the obvious.”

I shoved his shoulder. He grinned like he’d been waiting for that.

We wandered past stalls selling candles, wooden toys, and embroidered scarves. Someone was carving reindeer out of wood. Kids threw snowballs while musicians played a brass version of “Carol of the Bells.”

The world felt strangely… gentle. Like nothing could reach us here.

“So,” I said casually, “favorite Christmas memory. Go.”

He snorted. “Do I look like someone who has favorite Christmas memories?”

“Come on.”

He gave me a long, unimpressed stare.

“Fine. I was maybe ten. My mother burned the ham, destroyed the oven, ruined the tablecloth, and cried for half an hour.”

“That’s your favorite?”

He looked away briefly, jaw softening. “My father held her and told her she could burn the whole house down, and he’d still love her.”

My chest tightened unexpectedly.

“What was your worst?” he said.

“Hmm.” I shoved my hands into my coat pockets. “I was fourteen. My parents bought Zasha a bicycle. They bought me… nothing.”

He jerked his head toward me.

“I was being punished.”

“For?”

“Zasha accidentally broke my father’s phone. I took the blame for it.”

“Why?”

“Because he was too young to survive my father’s brand of discipline.”

“Your father was abusive?”

I snorted. “Wasn’t yours? Men in our world are hardly nurturing.”

“My father wasn’t,” Stas said softly. “He was a tough man, brutal. But when it came to our home, my mother insisted that it feel like one. He was in love with her and would do anything it took to make her happy. When she died, it broke his heart, and he never recovered. He stepped down and left me in charge. He drowned in our pool a year after she passed.”

“That’s tough.”

“Yeah. My father’s example taught me how to balance our business with family—that the people always come first, and the business next. I tried to raise Yelena that way.”