Were it not for the reminders of Enrique, who was impossibly happy to leave, he would have completely forgotten that they had agreed to spend Christmas in the Alps. After all, he probably would have liked something more family-friendly, within the castle walls, but the word was out. They packed warm clothes, a few essentials and flew from Germany to Switzerland. The weather looked beautiful, especially at the foot of the Alps. The winter quarters of the Tornatore family were a three-story cottage styled like other surrounding buildings, with a white plastered ground floor, a huge, partially glazed terrace, and upper floors lined with light wood. The whole thing was covered with a dark, asymmetrical roof. She stretched with her feet on the ground. She looked lovely in a white, quite loose sweater with braided shoulders, a thick shawl wrapped around the neck, tight blue jeans with light insulation tucked into brown trunks. She pulled a large cap with a large tassel over her ears a little tighter over her ears and over her loose blond hair. He adjusted the turtleneck of a gray sweater under his black coat that draped over dark trousers that fell over black trunks. She talked him into it one fall day while browsing the local stores looking for a scarf ... which she hadn't bought anyway. In the end, the purchase was good, definitely suitable for snow-covered areas. Before entering, Oliver and Enrique were waiting, and next to the fair-haired two girls he had seen for the first time. A green-eyed blonde girl with a long braid, in a pink coat and high boots, and a redhead, nut-eyed, with the ends of her hair curled up to the sides, in a turquoise longer jacket, wrapped around her neck in a long scarf. As soon as they saw them approaching them, they squealed with delight.
- Gee, Ricky, we thought you were lying to us!
- And that's really her!
Could have expected. Wherever she appeared, she was a sensation. She was like a living legend, especially among representatives of the same sex. The world skating champion, the face of the Koroliov Fashion House, their leading model, frequenter of shows, various events, the Russian Beyblade champion ... It's hard for them not to know her. It was enough to just be interested a little. It immediately crossed his mind that he had little interest in himself, since he didn't know her until she came to see him. She cuddled up and looked at her honey eyes, making the squeals of two girls completely stop disturbing him.
- Oh gosh, Nadia Koroliov ... Nice to meet you, I'm Bianca. - The blonde said as soon as they approached.- And I'm Rosetta. - The redhead added, clutching the blonde's shoulder. - Aren't you cold? My fingers managed to stiffen in the frost...
- Frost? - she laughed pearlly. - I put my jacket on when the temperature drops to -20. However, I will gladly leave my bag somewhere ...
- Oh sure, come in, make yourself at home! Piddlesworth will show you room. - Enrique said cheerfully. - We're still waiting for Johnny and Heather.
- Who? - Robert was surprised.
- I don't know her either, and Johnny didn't seem too happy to inform me that he was coming with her. - the host replied with a shrug. - We'll see.
The interior of the building was kept in warm, varnished wood and matt bricks. The ground floor consisted of a living room connected with a dining room, into which a lot of sun shone through the large window. The living room was dominated by a large fireplace with crackling flames around which leather and suede sofas with large cushions were placed, and between them an ebony table, over which hung a large, wide chandelier decorated with antlers. Behind the seats was a long table lined with a long white tread lined with chairs with covered backs. Above one row of chairs he noticed a wooden mezzanine lined with soft poufs and lined with bookshelves. On the other side, there was an alpine-like, somewhat rough staircase. The butler of the Tornatore family led them to the first floor, and Robert prayed to find a bed in the room, instead of the bizarre structure to resemble it. The bedroom was stylish as well, all lined with warm wood, with lighting placed in the gap between the slats above a wide bed covered with steel sheets and a sand blanket. In front of him, he found a large recess with a wardrobe, and next to it a bathroom door, lined with wood-like stoneware, in which most of the space was taken up by a shower without a shower tray.
- They sailed with the climate, don't you think? - she laughed, taking off her cap and placing it on the first shelf on the edge.
- They sailed ... and I think they almost drowned. Zero class. - He muttered, turning to face the blonde embracing him. - I don't even know what I would change.
- You would tear everything down and put it up again. - she replied, pulling him to her and kissing him passionately. - I know how you don't like this interior style.
- "I don't like" is a bad word. I rather think it is a terrible waste of wood. - He sighed heavily, placing his hand on one of the logs attached to the wall. - And with such a quantity, the effect is terribly parochial.
- The living room looks quite cozy ...
- Oh, yes ... if only to ease the mezzanine. - he added, pulling her towards the bed. - The key that is missing here is balance. Pretty good on the outside, a complete disaster on the inside.
- I noticed one more drawback. - She whispered taking off her sweater and feeling that she was resting her against the edge of the piece of furniture. - It's so warm in here.
She was wearing a tight-fitting black tank top. He felt that he was getting hot too. She wrapped her arms around his neck, gently pulling him towards her. He was almost touching her lips, feeling the warmth emanating from them.
- Johnny! Finally! - they heard Enrique cheerfully exclaim.
It was preferable for them to go down to the rest. He sighed heavily at the thought, but tossed his coat over the bed and let her go ahead. The redhead actually finally showed up, wearing a bright sweater, rather loose green plaid pants, and sturdy trekking shoes. Next to him stood a petite brunette with two short braids, a black sweater, a red checkered mini skirt and black opaque tights. McGregor made no attempt to hide his displeasure. He spoke very rarely, perfunctorily, at dinner, especially to her. The girl, in turn, looked more and more scared with every moment. She huddled under his gaze, didn't say much. She was the complete opposite of Enrique's chatty companions, chattering nonstop about new outfits. There was something about them that was far more irritating than the horrific materialism of someone else's wallet. The longer he was forced to listen to them, the more they irritated him.