Christmas with the Beast (The Fiore Family 1)

“So I’m leaving,” Mia says.

“Why? It’s the twenty-third.” It makes no sense for her to leave only to come back tomorrow especially because I heard the weather is going to bring us a white Christmas early.

“Yeah, and I’m not ready for tomorrow. I still have some last-minute shopping to do.”

“You? Last-minute?” Mia is the queen of on time for everything and well planned in advance.

“Yep. Now take it easy. I’ll be here tomorrow night to help with our family.” She gives me a kiss on the cheek and leaves. Damn it. Now I’m all alone, itching to bring Isabelle to me. Luis’s words have been playing in my head for days. Still, it’ll have to wait for the holidays to be over. I can’t have one of my family members doing the noble thing and letting her escape. Although can my Belle really love the Beast?

Mia leaves the house and that’s when I see my dogs are wearing matching green Christmas collars with two bells next to their tags. I laugh and take them out for a walk, making sure to grab my cane because I might be getting stronger, but I’m not even close to a hundred percent.

Chapter Six

Isabelle

“How is your brother doing?” I ask my boss as I prep for closing since tomorrow is Christmas Eve and the restaurant and myself have the next week off. I ask about Franco from time to time, although I don’t do it as much as I’d like because then he’ll know that I’m pathetically in love with his brother.

After he woke up nearly two years ago, he’d gone into isolation, not wanting to be seen by anyone but those who he had no choice but to deal with. Fabio hadn’t missed the connection between Franco and I, but he knew like everyone else, that any hopes of that coming back had left that day.

Fabio runs his hands through his hair. “Interesting that you ask—”

I cut him off. “Why?”

“Well, my family wants to cheer him up, so we’re forcing him to host Christmas for us at his home in Rochester.” That’s surprising. I’ve driven that way so many times in hopes that I’d run into him. It’s crazy, but I can’t help myself. I’ve been madly in love with the man. I don’t care about his scars—never had. Fabio has shown me pictures of his brother over the past two years, and every year he improves, even though his spirit hasn’t.

“Has he really been that down?” My heart crumbles knowing that.

“Well, he’s been a mess since his accident. He’s improving physically, but he’s getting more and more depressed. He’s genuinely like the beast in the animated movie. Grumpy, miserable, and all alone most of the time.”

“It has to be hard, isolating himself like that.” Tears fill my eyes as I picture him sad. I can’t believe that he’s so broken because I remember the tall, muscular, heart-stealing, irresistible man in a suit.

Franco’s dark brown hair was slightly longer on top and cut short on the sides and back, or at least that’s how he looked before. He had a medium build under that well-tailored suit that fit him perfectly. The jacket had been unbuttoned, and I could see his trim waist that told me he probably worked out a lot and didn’t eat meals like this often. I’ve dreamed of taking his suit off him so many times over the years, even though I’m positive that will never happen. I want to see him, but I probably won’t. He’s a recluse.

Two years ago, Franco Fiore strolled into the restaurant, dined with his beautiful cousin, and then demanded to meet me. My eyes met his and my heart skipped a beat. It was like in the movies when the room stills. I’d never been looked at with such unhidden hunger and lust. It looked as if he planned to maul me right at the table, but then he got himself under control and proceeded to thank me for the meal with civility. Well his control slipped a little when he pulled me in for a soul-altering kiss, still he mainly kept it together even though I’d lost all brain function.

When I finally gathered up the courage to speak, I barely could get a word out before an issue happened that required me back in the kitchen. Franco called out, saying he’d be back soon, but he wasn’t going to be able to keep that promise.

The next day he’d been in a helicopter accident. He was the only survivor, but he suffered some significant injuries. I haven’t seen him since.

“I’m glad you’re sympathetic to him because I promised him that you’d be our cook for our Christmas Eve dinner.” My eyes fly wide open, mouth practically falling onto the floor. My ears ring like I’ve just been clocked in the head by a heavyweight champion, okay, maybe a featherweight contender.