When we were decorating Santo insisted we wrap them around the tree or wrap them on the banisters since they’re battery operated, but I knew I was saving them for a moment like this.
I open the front door gently, holding my robe closed tightly and whisper toward Romeo.
His brown eyes meet mine, then quickly drop when he sees what I’m wearing.
“Would you like me to die today?” he hisses.
I chuckle. “Not at all. But I need the cameras off and full privacy. No one comes inside.”
“Boss is gonna lose his mind if I kill the feed.”
“Boss will lose more than his mind if you see me naked.”
Romeo blanches. “Shutting them down now.”
“Thank you!” I grin, backing into the house with my lights clutched to my chest.
“Vasi,” he calls after me, grim. “Tell him it was your idea.”
“Of course.” God help him if Santo thinks it was his.
I slip back inside, my heart racing with excitement.
The house is quiet, Santo’s still asleep upstairs.
I work quickly, unraveling the string of lights and strip off my robe before wrapping myself in the lights. I maneuver them perfectly that the battery pack can sit in the pocket of my robe as I shrug it back on. I click the Christmas lights on and giggle. I’m a glowing present, ready for Scythe to unravel.
Now where do I want to position myself—
Thud.
Crash.
“Vasilisa!”
My heart thunders as Santo’s voice echoes through the house.
“Dea!”
His voice thunders through the house, rough with panic.
My stomach flips.
“Santo?” I call back. “I’m downstairs!”
The steps pound like thunder through the house, and I freeze in place, clutching my robe closed over my ridiculous light display. Maybe this wasn’t such a brilliant idea after all.
Santo appears at the bottom of the stairs, his hair wild, eyes frantic, wearing only his pajama pants. The relief on his face when he sees me is immediately replaced with suspicion.
“Why are you down here?” he demands, crossing the room in three long strides.
He grabs me immediately pulling me into his arms, his nose burying in my hair, before he pulls back to look at me.
His eyes narrow as he takes in my appearance, the loosely tied robe, the faint glow peeking through the fabric.
“What are you doing?” he asks, voice low but intense. He cups my face. “Why did you leave our bed without a word?” Why are the cameras off?”
“I didn’t want to wake you,” I explain, feeling smaller under his intense gaze. “I asked Romeo to turn them off, I was trying to be romantic.”
