I knew Greta had been practicing ballet in secret when I wasn’t home. She didn’t want to dance in front of me yet, not happy with her performance. I couldn’t wait to see her dance again but I wasn’t going to push her. I was just happy that she seemed to settle in much better than I’d feared. She got along great with Sara, and the rest of the Trevisans. My mother positively adored her and pretty much saw her as another daughter, and even Marcella and Greta bonded over their shared love for dangerous beasts, in human and animal form. Marcella had become a softie since giving birth anyway. It was a strange thing to witness.
I tried to imagine Greta as a mother. The thought always made me smile. We hadn’t decided when to start our own family, but we needed more time together and for our families to arrange themselves with the new situation.
Greta finally ended the call and hopped over to me, giving me a kiss. I caught the hint of concern in her eyes.
“Let me guess, your brother messed up again?”
“Not worse than before. It’s impossible to talk to him.”
“He’s lucky Aurora ran to you and not her parents.”
“You can’t ever mention it to Fabiano or anyone.”
“I swore it.”
I stroked her hair away from her face. “You can’t save everyone, especially not your brother.”
“I know, but Nevio needs someone.”
Nevio needed an exorcist at the very least.
“When will you see Aurora again?”
“Tomorrow in Gianna’s gym. We’re doing yoga together.”
Nevio’s mess up had one good thing at least. Greta had Aurora as a familiar face in New York, at least for a while, and Mom had someone to dote on now that Valerio had moved out.
“If you want you can invite her to the Hamptons too. She can spend time with you, Sara and Isabella when I go jetskiing with Maximus.”
“Really?”
“Really.” I kissed her then risked a glance into the pot. It was some sort of creamy soup with gnocchi. “Soy cream?” My lips curled.
Greta pursed her lips. “I tried a cream on coconut base this time. And the gnocchi are homemade since you didn’t like the last vegan ones I bought.”
I sighed. “I love everything about you, except for your food ethics.”
“You can eat meat and eggs and cheese any time you want, I just don’t want to prepare it.” She narrowed her eyes in a playful manner. “And I bet you had an emergency hot dog on the way home.”
I grinned. Maximus, Matteo, and even Dad had taken it upon themselves to supply me with meaty snacks and lunch during the workday. “I like meat. You know I’m not a good man, and eating meat is one of my less severe sins.”
Greta shook her head. “Will you try my gnocchi soup?”
“You know I always do. And if it’s inedible I’ll wash it down with plenty of wine.” I kissed her indignant mouth to soften the impact of my words then helped her set the table. Even if I had to eat tofu scramble, seitan schnitzel and soy ice cream for the rest of my life, I’d still be the happiest asshole in the whole world.
“I’m ready,” Greta said with a nervous smile as she took my hand and led me toward the ballet room she’d installed in our new house. We’d only moved in a few days ago and hadn’t unpacked the majority of our boxes yet. We’d be celebrating Christmas in Las Vegas this year and our flight was leaving in the morning so we hadn’t rushed unpacking.
“I’ve been practicing every day. I hope you’ll like it.”
“I’ll love it,” I said when Greta released my hand to walk into the center of the room. I hadn’t wanted anything for Christmas from her except for a dance and today she’d finally grant me my wish.
My mouth ran dry as I watched her. I wasn’t sure why Greta had waited this long to dance for me. She was pure perfection as she twirled and bent her body to the music. She was grace and passion wrapped in one. If her knee gave her trouble, she didn’t show it.
I could have watched her forever, especially the utter happiness and passion on her face as she gave herself to the music.
When the final note faded away, Greta straightened from where she’d bowed low. Her eyes shone with excitement, then hopefulness.
“It’s the best Christmas present I could ask for.”
She smiled broadly. “It feels amazing to dance again.”
She headed for the bar at the mirror. “I still have trouble holding the Grand Plie for long and sometimes my leg cramps if I’m standing on my toes for very long but I’m improving every day.” She showed me which moves she meant, completely in her element. She raised one leg while she rose on her tiptoe, and I was momentarily distracted by the way her thong wedged between her ass cheeks. She was watching me in the mirror as she lowered the leg back to the ground. I prowled toward her like a starving lion. Her nipples puckered beneath her leotard. She wasn’t wearing tights or a bra. Apparently, I would be getting another present. All my fantasies about claiming Greta in her ballet outfit would finally become reality.