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The warmth of the crackling fireplace was a blessing after their impromptu snow war. Luca was still half-frozen, wrapped in the thickest blanket he could find, with a hot cup of cocoa Damien had all but forced into his hands.

Mochi had claimed the best seat in the house—the middle of the couch, curled into a smug little ball of fluff, not at all bothered by the fact that he'd betrayed Luca mid-battle by knocking him straight into Damien's arms.

Luca wasn't bitter. Not at all.

"You know," Damien mused, sipping his own cocoa with obnoxious calm, "we could always just stay here. A nice, quiet life in the mountains. No family drama. No rivals."

Luca snorted, blowing at the steam from his cup. "No, thanks. I'd rather not freeze my ass off every time I step outside."

Damien smirked, setting his cup down before pulling Luca into his lap—blanket and all.

Luca squawked. "What—"

"You never complained about the cold when I was keeping you warm."

"Damien."

"What?"

Luca sighed, but let it happen. Complaining would do nothing—Damien lived for excuses to hold him like this.

Not that Luca minded.

(Okay, fine. He minded a little. But only because Damien was too smug about it.)

"...You still haven't told me what your sister is even here for," Luca mumbled, resting his head against Damien's shoulder.

Damien sighed. "Honestly? I don't know. She just said it was 'important.'"

Luca frowned. That didn't sound great. "And you just... ran?"

Damien gave him an unapologetic look. "I prefer the term 'strategic retreat.'"

"You're such a coward."

"And yet, here I am, on vacation with my favorite person, drinking cocoa in a luxury cabin while my sister deals with whatever chaos she brought. Sounds like I'm winning."

Luca rolled his eyes, but... he couldn't exactly argue. This was nice.

Warmth. Comfort. Peace.

Damien probably wouldn't admit it, but Luca knew he needed this break just as much as he did. The past few months had been a mess of business deals, rival threats, and the stress of Luca launching his clothing brand.

If they got a few days of pretending the world didn't exist? Luca wouldn't complain.

...Much.

Damien's lips brushed against his temple, voice softer now. "We should take more trips like this."

Luca hummed. "As long as you don't use them as an excuse to avoid your sister."

Damien grinned, completely unrepentant.

"...Damien."

"I make no promises."

Luca groaned.

This man was impossible.

Luca had suspicions.

Damien was too relaxed. Too smug. Too much Damien.

Which meant one thing—his peace was about to be ruined.

And oh, how right he was.

Because the next morning, after a lazy breakfast and a peaceful hour of watching the snowfall, Damien's phone buzzed.

He glanced at it. Froze.

Then immediately got up and started putting his shoes on.

Luca, still wrapped in a blanket on the couch with Mochi curled up beside him, narrowed his eyes. "What's happening?"

"Nothing," Damien said way too quickly.

"Why are you putting your shoes on?"

"No reason."

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

Luca stared at him. "Out where?"

Damien sighed, rubbing his temples. "Luca—"

Then the cabin door burst open.

Luca barely had time to flinch before an icy-cold gust of wind swept in—along with a woman.

Tall. Elegant. Unimpressed.

Her fur-lined coat screamed money. Her heels defied the snow-covered ground. And her eyes? All Damien.

Luca knew immediately.

This was her.

The Sister.

She flicked her gaze to Damien, arched a brow. "So. This is where you ran off to."

Damien sighed, already looking exhausted. "Mireille."

Oh. Mireille.

Good name for a terrifying woman.

Mireille's gaze shifted to Luca. "And you're the boyfriend."

Luca, who had absolutely no idea what to do in this situation, just blinked.

"Uh. Yes?"

Mireille huffed a quiet laugh, then turned her gaze back to Damien. "Well. Are you going to invite me in or let me freeze to death?"

Damien gave Luca a deeply pained look before stepping aside.

And just like that, their vacation was officially ruined.

Mireille had opinions.

Lots of them.

Most of them aimed at Damien.

Apparently, she hadn't come all this way just to check on him. She had business. Serious business. The kind that involved the entire family.

Luca didn't poke too much. Not because he wasn't curious—because he absolutely was—but because he knew that if Damien wanted him to know, he'd tell him.

(And also because Mochi had immediately claimed Mireille's lap, and Luca was fascinated by how uncomfortable she looked about it.)

"Why does he look at me like that?" Mireille asked, eyeing Mochi warily.

Luca smirked. "Because he knows you're an enemy."

Mireille snorted, the first real smile she'd cracked since she walked in. "I like you."

Damien groaned. "God help us."

By some miracle, Mireille didn't stay long.

She said her piece, told Damien what he needed to know, judged Luca in every possible way, and then left just as quickly as she arrived.

Once the door shut behind her, Damien collapsed onto the couch beside Luca, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes.

"Worst trip ever," he muttered.

Luca just grinned, resting his head on Damien's shoulder. "I don't know. I kinda liked her."

Damien groaned. "Don't say things like that."

"Why? Afraid I'll run away and join your terrifying crime family?"

"Yes, actually."

Luca laughed, reaching over to ruffle his hair. "Don't worry, Damien. I like you better."

Damien's arm fell away, revealing a soft smirk. "Yeah?"

Luca hummed. "Yeah."

"Then I win."

Luca rolled his eyes. "You always think you win."

Damien pulled him in closer, pressing a kiss against his temple.

"That's because I do."

For the rest of the day, things were peaceful.

No Mireille. No surprise visits. Just Damien, Luca, and Mochi, curled up in their cozy little cabin as snow flurried outside.

And then.

The ski trip happened.

Because Damien—always full of brilliant ideas—suddenly decided they needed to go skiing.

"You're in Switzerland," he reasoned. "You have to ski. It's the law."

Luca, who valued his life, wasn't convinced.

"Damien," he said, staring up at the terrifyingly steep slope. "If I die, I'm haunting you."

Damien smirked. "If you die, I'll just bring you back to haunt me in person."

Luca glared. "That's not how ghosts work."

"Who says?"

Luca groaned, knowing there was no escape.

The ski trip started fine.

Started.

Luca had barely gotten the hang of it when Damien got cocky.

(Which, in hindsight, should've been expected.)

"Race you to the bottom," Damien grinned, already pushing forward.

"Absolutely not," Luca called after him. "I just learned how to stay upright—"

Too late.

Damien was already speeding downhill, laughing, completely in his element.

And then.

He hit a patch of ice.

Luca winced as Damien's skis jerked sideways, sending him tumbling down in an ungraceful heap.

It was beautiful.

Luca skied down—slowly, carefully—and finally reached where Damien had landed.

Damien lay spread-eagle in the snow, groaning.

Luca, smug beyond belief, leaned over him.

"So," he said. "What was that about always winning?"

Damien cracked one eye open, glaring. "Shut up."

Luca grinned. "No."

Mochi, who had been watching from the sidelines (wrapped in a tiny sweater, because of course he had one), let out a triumphant meow.

Luca laughed, reaching down to ruffle Damien's hair.

"Come on, tough guy," he teased. "Let's get you warmed up."

Damien sighed, letting Luca help him to his feet.

"...Fine," he muttered. "You win this round."

Luca beamed. "Damn right I do."

Back at the cabin, Luca was living his best life.

A steaming mug of hot chocolate in one hand, a blanket burrito situation wrapped around him, and Damien—bruised ego and all—sulking across the couch.

Mochi, betrayer of the century, had curled up with Luca, smug and cozy.

Luca took a slow sip of his drink. "So," he said, voice dripping with amusement. "How's Switzerland treating you?"

Damien narrowed his eyes. "You're enjoying this too much."

"Just a little."

Damien muttered something under his breath before flopping down next to Luca, throwing his arm over him.

Luca snorted. "What are you doing?"

"Warming up," Damien grumbled. "Skiing was a terrible idea."

Luca let out a dramatic gasp. "Did the mighty Damien just admit he was wrong?"

Damien refused to answer.

Instead, he nuzzled into Luca's shoulder, sighing.

Luca bit back a smile.

This was rare—Damien actually letting himself relax.

No mafia business. No stress. Just them.

And then, as if to perfect the moment, snowflakes started drifting past the window, covering the world outside in a quiet, soft white.

Luca watched them fall, suddenly feeling something warm bloom in his chest.

They sat there for a while, just wrapped in each other's warmth, Mochi purring softly between them.

Luca exhaled. "Okay. Maybe Switzerland wasn't the worst idea."

Damien smirked—victorious once again.

Even when he lost, he won.

Luca sighed. Ridiculous.

But he still leaned into Damien's warmth, his hand resting over Damien's.

And just like that, Switzerland felt like home.

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