Pucca Santa Novels & Stories

"Mamma pretty! Belly!" I almost cried. My Bronx loud laugh came out instead. "Luciano, people are staring." "Good," he said. He stood, pulled out his phone, and took a picture of my belly in that cut dress. "Let them." The clerk coughed. "Do you, Luciano De Luca, take Isabella Reyes—" "Isabella De Luca," Luciano corrected. "She signed last night. She is already De Luca." The clerk swallowed. "Do you take her..."

I didn’t understand why she seemed so scared of me. I hadn’t said or done anything wrong to her. Or maybe she feared Valentina and what Valentina could do to her. I smiled as I pulled away from the door. "Thank you. " I turned and walked back to the car. Dante got back in and told the driver where to take us. I cracked my neck and asked, "Dante, what is the Santa Philip?” He turned a bit to look at me. “It's a casino. It’s also a club with a fighting ring. It’s very illegal.”

My stomach twisted. “I want to be up next, she is sexy,” Another guy added and they erupted in laughter. I moved closer until I could see them gathered near the field. Daemon stood in the center, tossing a puck between his hands. He looked so normal, so relaxed, like he hadn’t just shattered everything, like he hadn't ripped my heart out of my chest I gulped hard and stepped forward. “Daemon?” Their laughter seized immediately they heard my voice. “Ava, what are you doing here?”

Anna added, tapping the picture. “He’s fat,” Jeremy said, laughing. “Not cute chubby… Just fat.” “Shush, Jer!” their mother said. “I’ll find your baby book next and we’ll see who wins the pudgiest baby…” “Please,” Anna agreed. “Is this some sort of new holiday tradition I didn’t know about?” Elijah asked. “Public humiliation?” “There’s no shame in you being an adorable baby,” his mother said sighing. “You’re so tense. I think you’ve gotten worse than Jer these days.”

“YOU HAVE TO LET ME GO, YOU TRUNK OF A MAN!” A low, sinister chuckle leaves his lips at my lame insult, his wide shoulders shaking slowly at the motion. “My name is Santino Ricca.”

Luka smiles at Bianca. “Mmmhh, it smells good,” I give out compliments. “Nobody asked you, but-“ “Luka!” Both Paula and Bianca reprimand him. “What?” Luka shrugs his shoulders casually, biting his sausage. “Behave. This is my bodyguard, not my boyfriend so please stop treating him like he is courting me,” Paula stands up, going to get another plate and gets back to dish out for me. She puts a croissant on my plate and a pincho de tortilla which is a Spanish potato omelette.

I followed Knox out of the rink like a girl who definitely wasn’t already replaying his wink on loop in her head. The cold slapped me harder outside, wind whipping through the parking lot like it had a personal grudge against California transplants. My boots crunched on the salted sidewalk, and Knox—still half in pads, helmet tucked under one arm—looked like he’d just stepped off a magazine cover titled “Hot Guys Who Don’t Own Coats.” “Truck’s this way,” he said, nodding toward a beat-up black pickup that screamed small-town hockey royalty. Stickers plastered the back window: EVERGREEN EAGLES, a cartoon bird flipping the bird (ironic), and one that read “I brake for slapshots.”

said Jackson once everyone was seated. No words were said as they all dug into their food the only sounds were the scraping of utensils. Luca bit into his pancakes and hummed in delight. He couldn’t remember the last time he tasted something so good for breakfast. Typically he would simply have an apple or a beagle from the bakery near his apartment, not having money for much else. “So what should we do today?” asked Saint as he took a bite of a strawberry. “Now that Luca is out of the hospital we should all do something fun.”

About an hour later they came out of the study. Papa had the look of a man who'd just closed the deal of his life. Luca behind him, jacket on, that same face that gave nothing for free. "Sunday the fourteenth," Papa said to me. Not a question. "Engagement dinner. Luca's father comes from Palermo, his sisters. Wear something that does this family credit." I kept my face completely still. "Of course." Luca looked at me when I said it. Something in his expression I couldn't quite name not triumph, nothing as obvious as that. More like he was watching to see what I'd do. What version of me showed up right now.

I said nonchalantly and Nanny Agatha frowns, “Isn’t he too old to marry a young beautiful girl?” “No Nanny! Santa Clause is not old! He is young. He never gets old. He has told me.” After pausing for a minute I ask Nanny Agatha, “Tell me Nanny Agatha, if Santa grows old then why his pictures of this year shows the same Santa as few years back?”