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He ducked through the garage door and I followed him into the kitchen, dumbfounded. He grabbed a drink from the fridge and made to leave, but I cleared my throat.
He froze, glancing up.
“You don’t have responsibilities, Hugo, you don’t even have a bank account,” I said. “And if I catch you driving the car again, so help me God, you will regret it.”
He swallowed. “Sorry, dad.”
I scared my sons sometimes, but it wasn’t the worst thing because often that was the only way to get them in line. I narrowed my eyes and jerked my head at the door, dismissing him. I could tell he felt my annoyance because he walked out in silence, his shoulders slumped.
That had been yesterday. After a sleepless night and a chaotic breakfast, Hugo and I were back on good terms again. Iris, Duran, and their eldest daughter, Angie, left after dinner with the promise to drop by on Christmas Day.
Now, it was minutes until my wife was back.
I pulled myself back to the present. The twins were crouched at the end of the driveway of the restored Victorian farmhouse we lived in, piling snowballs they inevitably planned on throwing at me the first chance they got.
I’d bought this house for Olivia after we’d returned from exile. We spent almost a year living in the ancestral Barone mansion. Olivia was traumatized from losing her home and my near death experience. She wasn’t ready to find a new home until she was done mourning the old one.
But one morning, she brought me her phone and set it on my desk. On the screen was a photo of a pale yellow house with dozens of shuttered windows.
“I want to go see that house,” she declared.
I balked. It was a triple story, large farmhouse on fifty acres in the hills on the other side of the river. The interior hadn’t been updated since the fifties and I knew we’d be stripping it down to the shell to get it liveable.
But somehow, she saw through all the problems. Just as she had with me. We toured it the next day and she fell in love instantly. I followed her around the dusty floors, captivated by how her eyes glittered.
She had a vision for how she wanted to live so I wrote a check and made it happen.
I was glad I’d trusted her. It took almost a year, but the farmhouse was completely restored into the most comfortable place I’d ever lived. She covered everything in hardwood, put a sizable addition onto the back, and ordered comfortable furnishings. Everything had a cozy Americana feel I liked.
And I finally had an office again so I had no complaints. I’d been working out of an empty room in the attic for a year. Now I had my own space with a huge fireplace, Turkish rugs, and an antique desk.
A rumble sounded and my eyes flicked to the road. Marco’s SUV pulled around the corner and moved slowly up the drive. The twins pelted the sides with snowballs as it passed them and I heard Marco yell at them from inside.
I descended the steps and pulled Olivia’s door open.
My chest tightened. God, she was so perfect.
She wore a deep red sweater and jeans. Her dark waves were knotted at the nape of her neck and there was the sexiest strip of gray in her feathery bangs. Marco, sensing what was about to happen, jumped out the car and slammed the door.
I leaned into the car and kissed her mouth. Slowly and thoroughly. When I broke away, she had a little blush over her cheeks and nose.
“I have a surprise,” she whispered.
“I hope it’s your cunt,” I said against her neck.
“Lucien!”
I kissed her neck and helped her out of the car. She’d gotten her nails done with a glossy, wine red and I had to keep my thoughts from straying to images of her wrapping those hands around my cock later.
“Where’s Hugo?” she asked.
“In the lounge,” I said. “We had a bit of a disagreement, but we’re good now.”
Her lips compressed. “What did he do?”
“Nothing you need to worry about,” I said, giving her a little spank behind the car door. “Get that ass inside. Marco and I will carry everything.”
She was flustered and blushing as she gathered up the twins and they went into the house. Marco circled the car and sent me a look, his brow raised.
