CHAPTER 410: THE BEST CHRISTMAS GIFT

Roger carefully adjusted the final ornament on the small Christmas tree in the corner of his apartment’s cozy living room.

He stepped back, took a few pictures of the tree from different angles, and uploaded them to his social media with a cheerful caption.

He then made his way to the kitchen, where the delicious aroma of his home-cooked dinner filled the air. He set the dishes on the table, aligning everything just right.

"I still can’t believe Aiden bailed on me," Roger muttered to himself with a chuckle. "Maybe he’s dating someone and didn’t want to say it out loud." He smiled at the thought and pulled out a chair to sit when the doorbell suddenly rang.

He glanced at the clock. "Who could it be at this hour?"

Roger walked over to the door, puzzled, and opened it, only to freeze in place.

"Varya?" he blurted, clearly left stunned.

There she was, standing in front of him with a trolley bag parked beside her.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" he asked in shock and disbelief. His eyes flicked to her luggage. "You just flew in...? And how on earth did you even find my apartment?"

"I’m cold," Varya murmured.

"Ah—come inside," Roger said, snapping out of his daze. He reached for the handle of her trolley bag and gently wheeled it in as she stepped through the door.

She walked slowly into the warmly lit living room while he followed and let go of the bag near the couch.

"Merry Christmas, Roger," she said softly, holding out a small gift bag to him. "There’s a little cake inside."

"Merry Christmas," Roger replied, taking the bag from her with a surprised smile. "Thank you. That’s really thoughtful of you." He glanced at her, still trying to piece things together. "But... how did you even find my apartment?"

"Lucius gave me the address," Varya admitted, a playful glint in her eyes. "I wanted to surprise you, so I asked him."

A small, tender smile curved her lips as she stepped closer and gently pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Roger froze, blinking rapidly. His brain struggled to catch up with what just happened.

Before he could say anything, she inhaled the aroma of the freshly cooked food. "Did you just cook? Let’s have dinner then."

"Uh—sure," Roger said, clearing his throat and quickly leading her to the kitchen.

He pulled out a chair for her, and Varya sat down, glancing at the spread of food with delighted eyes.

"You really went all out," she said, picking up the fork and knife, clearly eager to dig in. "You’ve made so many dishes!"

"It’s Christmas," Roger said with a modest shrug as he picked up a bowl. He ladled some steaming hot minestrone soup and gently placed it beside her plate. "You must be freezing from the journey. Start with the soup. I hope you like it," he added softly, his gaze fixed on her, eager for her reaction.

He watched with quiet satisfaction as Varya enjoying the soup. Once she seemed settled, Roger served the main course—Pollo alla Cacciatora.

"You cook really well," Varya said as she lowered her spoon into the now half-empty soup bowl. "I totally suck at it."

Roger chuckled, offering a modest smile, watching her tuck into the main dish with the same enthusiasm.

"Do you have work in Rome?" he asked curiously.

"No," Varya replied simply.

"Then why?" Roger asked, still puzzled.

"I wanted to be here, with you." She took a breath. "I stepped down from my position. I’m no longer the mafia queen. From now on, you’ll have to take care of me," she declared.

"What?!" Roger blurted out, his eyes wide in disbelief. "You’re kidding... right?"

"I’m not," she said, shaking her head. "After I returned to Russia, your words... your face... they kept haunting me. That’s when I knew. I had to come back. I thought you wanted to date me and I felt I did wrong by walking away."

"I still want to!" Roger admitted quickly. "But... you loved your work. You were so firm about never leaving Russia."

"True," she said with a small smile. "But someone changed my mind." She didn’t mention Lucius. "For years, I didn’t even celebrate Christmas. No one wished me. Then you sent that message last night, and... I just knew I had to see you."

Roger’s heart thumped with joy as he gazed at her glowing face.

"I didn’t bring much with me, just some money. I’ve never lived with anyone before," she added, her eyes dropping to the table. "I’ll move out once I find a good apartment."

"You’re not going anywhere," Roger said firmly. "You’re staying with me. This—this is the best Christmas gift I’ve ever received. Thank you, Varya, for trusting me. I’ll take care of you. That’s a promise."

His sincerity reflected clearly in his eyes.

Varya gave a small nod, a soft blush dusting her cheeks. "Let’s eat before the food gets cold."

"Right," Roger chuckled.

Later, the two of them finished the Christmas supper together.

"You can wait for me in the drawing room. I’ll be there soon," Roger said as he began gathering the dishes, stacking them carefully before heading to the sink.

He washed them swiftly, humming a quiet tune, and then unboxed the pineapple cake. With practiced hands, he sliced two neat pieces and placed them on small dessert plates.

When he stepped into the drawing room, he found Varya standing by the Christmas tree, gently running her fingers over the danglings, her expression thoughtful and serene under the soft glow of the fairy lights.

"Have some cake," Roger said, offering her a plate.

Varya turned to him with a small smile, her eyes twinkling. "Click a picture of me first," she said, handing him her phone.

"Of course," Roger replied with a grin. He took a few steps back and snapped several pictures as she posed next to the tree. She glanced through them afterward, nodding in approval.

"I love them," she said before sitting on the couch.

Roger handed her the plate and enjoyed the cake with her.

"Your place is nice," Varya said.

"Thank you. It’s yours too," Roger added, placing the plate on the table before them.

Varya smiled softly, her tongue flicking over the dessert spoon as she finished the last bite of the pineapple cake.

"Varya," Roger said her name, drawing her attention. She turned her head to look at him, curious.

"Earlier... you kissed me on the cheek," he said, his voice low and thoughtful.

"Because we met again," she replied, as if that alone had been reason enough. She leaned forward to place her plate on the table, but before she could pull back, Roger gently took hold of her wrist, halting her movement.

"I think," he began, his gaze locked with hers, "we should kiss properly this time."

There was a moment of silence as their eyes met. Then Varya gave a small nod to him.

Roger leaned in, his lips brushing hers with a tentative softness. Her breath hitched slightly as she parted her lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. The sweetness of the cake lingered between them, mingling with the warmth of their breath as their mouths moved in perfect rhythm.

Their tongues met in a slow, passionate dance, the taste of dessert replaced by something far more intoxicating.

Varya tilted her head, inviting him in, her back slowly pressing against the couch. Roger followed her lead, his hand finding her waist as he pulled her gently closer.

His tongue traced the curve of her lips before he caught her lower lip between his teeth, giving it a playful nibble, then kissing her again.