Christmas in New York.

Christmas with Giovanni in New York.

There's nothing like it.

It's still a few weeks away, but the crowds have swarmed the streets and stores, determined to snatch up the good gifts before they are all gone. The storefronts are decorated to attract the most festive holiday-goers, laced with tinseled garland, and colorful flashing lights. Sidewalks are consumed by families, suits, hats, gloves, scarves. Lampposts are swirled in flashy decorations, dangling snowflakes. As you pass by, cheerful music sings into the streets, awakening the soul.

Last year was the first year Christmas meant anything to me, truly. I was unsure of everything. Him, me, whatever it was we had started. I missed all of this in my uncertainty, wondering how soon it would be gone. But with Giovanni's hand in mine right now as we maneuver through the crowded sidewalks, and the feel of the genuine gold ring of his against my skin, I'm reassured that this is real, and forever—and it makes the joy of the season something I can handle, and appreciate...bask in for the first time in my life.

I'm terrible at picking out gifts, and it turns out, so is he, which made shopping fun. No doubt the things we picked out for our friends and his family will be underwhelming, but we scoured the stores in mere minutes, only having to handle the torture for a short amount of time. It's a rare occasion that either of us appears in public, mostly because the news coverage we received was so consuming for months after the pregnancy release. Sam is leading our way, Raymond directly behind us, refusing to let anyone through, tense because we've been spotted by a few pedestrians.

When it begins to snow, coming down between the high-rises in sharp swoops of frozen wind, and tiny snowflakes, we dart into a small coffee shop, while Raymond and Sam head off to retrieve Jimmy with the car.

"Five hot coffees, please," Giovanni orders to the barista. I smile at his thought of them.

"It's on us. We're huge fans," the man says, glancing over at the other girl perched behind the counter, clearly flustered. Giovanni insists, handing over the cash. We both take the warm foam cups they extend. His hands are large, and can somehow manage holding two wedged between his slender fingers.

Knowing they may be a while, we find two seats by the window, squeezing between the other guests, mainly women, who blush and then pale when they catch sight of my husband. My mouth widens with pride when he exhales with a smile, claiming the back of my neck to kiss me chastely, settled in our own natural rhythm.

"Today was fun," I confess, holding the stomach that is weighing down my whole body.

"I find it so hard to believe that you never went out to do Christmas shopping before."

The warm trickle of coffee cascading through my throat soothes the tremors going through me. I reach out, brushing snowflakes from Giovanni's coat. "Rebecca's always been in charge of it. Money or baskets...the easy stuff."

"You're telling me you sent a basket to Norman?" he asks, chuckling. I nod, biting my lip in embarrassment.

"Wine and cheese."

"Oh, Scar."

I groan, blushing. "Hey, he never complained."

"Well, Rebecca might like the espresso maker you got her this time then."

"I really hope she likes something other than lattes. She may not even like espresso."

He shrugs. "Well, it will look nice in the apartment?"

I nod in agreement, ticking his coffee cup with my own. "It will look nice in the apartment. Anyway, if she doesn't, she could always re-gift it. That's a thing, right?"

"Sure. You have to make sure the person won't ever find out though."

"You'll probably re-gift all of my gifts to you."

He smirks. "You got me presents?"

"Yes, a few days ago. But, they are just as terrible as these."

"I don't know," he hums. "If you set out an espresso maker, I won't turn it away."

I set down my coffee, reaching for my phone.

"What are you typing?"

"A reminder to get you an espresso maker."

He grabs the phone out of my hand, laughing. I glare at him, without malice. He tucks it into his coat, and turns his attention back to me.

"I don't need any gifts from you. Not now."

Despite the intimidating public eye, he clasps my face gently, and I can't help but tilt my cheek into his smooth palm. His hand is warm, and comforting against my chilled skin, and my eyes close in reaction.

"You know when I first knew I loved you?" I say, the words stumbling from my tongue candidly. My eyes open when his hand moves down from my face until his fingers are sliding between mine in my lap, and find him, waiting. I've shocked him as much as I've shocked myself.

"Christmas...when I felt so alone, I couldn't think." I inhale, shaking my head with remembrance. "When I saw you, coming down the street, it was suddenly my only thought. I kept repeating it in my head. 'You love him. You love this man. It's happened.'"

His eyes say quite a bit, softening at the last part of my confession, revealing enjoyment, and a hint of unease—no doubt, mirroring my own expression. When he begins to smile particularly, my lips twist with suspicion.

"What?"

Taking my actual breath away, he flashes me a wide grin. "And yet, I had to pry the words from your stiff, stubborn fingers, didn't I? Took me damn weeks!" he teases.

My eyes roll, and I remove my hand from his, to clasp the nape of his neck. His dark curls tease the edges of my fingers as I pull myself close to him. His eyes sweep over my face with desire, and excitement as I press my lips to his cheekbone, and breathe against his skin, "I can say it easy now, can't I?"

"You know, why don't you practice?"

Instead, I kiss him. I kiss him until Sam interrupts us.

...

"When is Giovanni arriving?"

After a small malfunction in the dress I'd chosen to wear for his big show, to which Rebecca had to locate pins and sewing needles, the dress is decent to appear in public again. She makes sure the strapless black dress is secure by the zipper, while I revel in my embarrassment and discontentment.

"I hate this."

"It's completely natural. And you can't even tell."

"I've blown up."

"Gorgeously. You are carrying this baby very well."

I roll my eyes at her in the bathroom mirror, attempting to rid myself of the thoughts of being in front of cameras while my dress is being held together by pins. I answer her question.

"He'll be here in an hour for last minute revisions. The press should be arriving any minute."

"Where do you want me to direct them?"

"I've already laced off a corner, by the sculptures. Have the valet arrived?"

"Yes. Ready and waiting by the doors."

"Good...good." I sigh, and sit down to retrieve my shoes, unable to bend. The dress is beautiful and one Giovanni mentioned he liked. It's form fitting, meant for a pregnant woman...but I guess not this pregnant of a woman. Ending against my calves, I chose to endure black stilettos for the night, refusing to be caught in flats beside the man of the evening, who is wearing a genuine silk and wool suit from the new line that undoubtedly costs a small fortune.

My hair is twisted up into a knot bun, with weird chopstick things poking out of it. One of Gio's designers pulled me aside and tucked them in, promising it completed the outfit. I didn't believe him until the comments started about my chic-ness, how nice it must be married to a fashion icon.

"Where is Sam? I've grown used to seeing him hovering next to you."

"He's off for the night for his brother's wedding. Raymond is visiting his mother at the home."

"Wow, both off."

"There's plenty of security here. They shouldn't be needed. Giovanni and I live for the days where they aren't around, as nice as they are."

"Well, tonight's going to be a hit. The reviews of the preview have everyone showing up. Almost everyone RSVP'd. Some celebs even called in, wanting tickets."

"Fit in as many people as you can. This needs to be big. This needs to make headlines."

"I'll make sure they know about the after-party. We can make sure the photographer snaps pictures of them."

"Perfect."

We exit the bathroom, shocked to find people already filling the seats, and we haven't even dimmed the lights yet. I glance at her, and she nods, leaving to find the technician. Sasha strides over to me with a large smile, extending her arms.

"Look at this!"

I hug her, carefully. "You did good."

"Stop. This was all you, and you know it." She pulls back, and grabs my arms, holding at arm's length. "I love this look."

"Thank you," I blush, shrugging.

"Scarlett, this is magnificent. I mean, the sculptures, the stage...are those crystals? Real ones?"

I nod, crossing my arms, holding my tablet to my chest. "Sure are."

"You didn't tell me all of this was going to be here...was this still on budget?"

I look around to hide my guilt. "I, um, went...a little over. Contributed a bit of my own funds."

"He'd kill you."

"He doesn't have to know," I say, pointedly. She smirks, shaking her head.

"I'm sure he's smart enough to get it, but hey, your secrets safe with me."

I roll my eyes when she leaves, scanning the slim white benches, that extend around each side of the cross stage. The sound systems being tinkered with in front of the stage. The man glances at me, and with my nod, he starts the music—a slow, electronic beat.

I don't see anyone behind the bar, which should already be open, and with a sigh, move to find the company. After I've informed them where to go, having found them lost on the other side of the building, I return to find press entering at Rebecca's command. The moment they see me, they begin to attempt to retrieve my attention, but even pregnant, my feet hurry across the ground into the back rooms.

"Scarlett."

I turn, hearing Carlo's voice. He walks up and kisses my cheek with exuberance. "What's up?"

"The video cameras won't link to the system. I've been trying for a good twenty minutes, and it keeps shutting me out."

"Show me."

Knowing it's getting close for comfort, we hurry over to the cameras. When Carlo's tries again, and stubbornly the system fails. Seeing Giovanni step into the back of the room, checking out the main stage, I call over the sound guy, not sure if he'll be able to help and begin to head away.

"What do I do if I can't get it to work?"

"That's not an option. We need a camera. This is going to be shown live on the internet," I call back.

Giovanni's hand-custom suit is a show-stopper. Crisp, and freshly pressed, he looks like he should hop on stage and show off his creation in full fashion. The material shines against the darkly tinted lights as he walks over to me, glancing around at everything. When he's close, I inhale soap, cologne, and vanilla and I'm intoxicated.

I smile with him, throwing my arms around his neck and my feet nearly slip out of my heels as I practically leap into his arms. He clasps my face with firm hands, shaking his head.

"You went overboard."

I kiss him. "No, I didn't."

"How much did this cost? I doubt what I set aside covered all of this."

"Well, I chipped in a little bit." I pinch my fingers together. "Just a little bit."

He glares at me, but I kiss him, deeply, determined to take his mind off of money, he melts and responds with just as much desire. I can't keep my hands from him. I nearly groan when his lips drift to my cheek.

"Fuck, I want this to be over. I love this dress. I want to take you home."

"This is your night, Gio," I whisper, shaking my head. "This is a huge night, after everything that's happened this year. You did all of this."

"Norman did, mostly. And you." He smiles, slightly, caressing my face gently with his thumb. "He'd be extremely proud of you, Scarlett."

A lump grows in my throat at the way his voice dropped when he said it, growing serious. I shake my head, smiling to stop the feeling of loss that fills within my chest and run my fingers through his hair, knowing he won't care if I mess it up.

"Give yourself more credit, Giovanni. I'm proud of you."

He kisses me sweetly, over and over until a loud, piercing sound from the system disrupts our bliss with its shrillness. We both turn to Carlos, who claps his hands together, despite the guests by the bar, looking at him disapprovingly. Clearly, he's fixed the problem.

"Sound issues?"

"No, camera systems were down. It's fixed now."

"I have to get to the back," he says, and I nod, fixing his suit, which I've wrinkled.

"Crap."

He pulls me in, wrapping a strong arm around my waist. "I don't care."

He plants his lips on my cheek. "Find me in the back when the show starts. We can have a repeat of the last show."

My eyes widen in shock as my face heats considerably, remembering our steamy make-out session behind the curtains, with all of his staff just on the other side of them. I shake my head.

"No."

"You know you want to," he teases, walking away toward where he came from.

...

"Congratulations. Fantastic show!" a man says as Giovanni passes by the crowds, saying pleasantries, receiving praise from a nearly perfect event. I smile softly, so glad everything went well. The press was positive, completely positive.

The after-party is sleek, and elegant. I notice photographers around the room, snapping pictures of the elite guests as they chat and drink and dance.

Rebecca appears beside me. "A successful night. Giovanni can't catch his breath. Everyone is all over him."

"As they should be," I reply, with a smirk. He reminds me right now of the man I first met, drifting through compliments and awed looks, holding himself with such confidence and grandeur. He's larger than life, a true celebrity and he owns it well.

Just in the moment when I think he's completely immersed in it all, his head tilts away from the man he's speaking to, and his midnight-colored eyes find mine. And instantly, I regret not finding him backstage and pulling him away from it all to show him what that look does to me.

But he knows. He definitely knows.

A hint of a smile moves across his lips as he turns his attention back to the man speaking, and Rebecca's arm moves around my back, her head leaning against my arm. The music is vibrating my entire body, irritatingly. I sigh, turning, forcing her to turn with me.

"That's not just me right? That's ridiculously loud?"

She nods. "Yep."

I force my achy legs to move, leaving her where she is. I travel into the next room, which is more scattered because the man of honor isn't around, and climb up the steps to the DJ booth.

"It's too loud. We need to lower it a bit," I say, over the music. "People are having to scream over each other."

"Oh, I thought this was good."

"The music's fine. Just turn it down a bit, please."

He turns the dial, and I instantly feel a strange chill cover my arms. As if in slow motion, I watch the small blonde hairs on my arms stand on edge, my blood creeping to a halt as I turn to complete stone.

"FUCK!" the guy beside me shouts, flinching, bending down behind the booth in fear. He shoves me down with haste and I drop to the ground, hearing loud piercing firings from a gun, bullets soaring through the air from the next room.

Shots.

And I can't breathe. My eyes round with horror as I scramble up onto my legs, as the screams ring out and the guests in our room begin to run for the emergency exit, tripping, shoving each other in a panic. People from the other side begin to swarm in droves into this space, trying to find a way out. All I hear is crying, loud shouts. I can't see over them.

My legs can't make it across the room fast enough.

"Giovanni!" I scream, as two men grab ahold of me when I'm pushing through the crowd, moving in the opposite direction as everyone else. "Giovanni!"

I manage to escape their strong hands, and continue to shove myself through the people, trying to see who is running out through my tears, terrified when none of them are him.

"Giovanni!"

The hands grab me again this time, and despite my pleadings, they drag me in the direction of safety, and away from my husband.