Page 3 of Silent Night With Adrian

“Fucking bastards,” I manage to choke out, earning a quick squeeze from him.

I never liked learning from my father, but one thing he did teach me: sadness is a luxury. Anger, though? Anger is useful. Depression keeps you stuck; spite gets the job done. And Dante knows that, too. When he says “we,” he means both of us. As his top negotiator, I’m already in this, like it or not.

“Thursday, Mia. Tomorrow.” Dante’s voice is firm, and it pulls me back as we step through the doors of the Vitale mansion.

Being the daughter—and now sister—of a mafia boss was never supposed to mean I’d be in the thick of it. Traditionally, women aren’t allowed within the inner workings, not in theworld we come from. But my father never cared for tradition, and Dante’s following in his footsteps.

That’s what makes him so dangerous—predictable men can be handled. But Dante? He’s unpredictable, without boundaries or limits. With him, nothing is off the table. Not even pulling me into the dirty dealings that oil the wheels of the Vitale empire.

“Just give me some time,” I plead. “We just buried Marco.” I want to lose myself in my law school assignments, to hide in a world that isn’t tainted by this... madness.

But Dante stops me, his hand on my arm, blocking my path up the grand staircase. “You know I need you now more than ever,” he says, his tone hard.

I grit my teeth. “Can we at least let the dirt settle on Marco’s grave before you ask me to attend another damn sit-down?”

“The other families are going to see this as a moment of weakness, a chance to cash in,” he snaps, his voice almost a hiss. “I refuse to let them think that. As far as anyone else knows, it’s business as usual.”

It’s always about appearances, about power. To Dante, winning is everything. He doesn’t care who he loses along the way. He learned that from our father, and he’s doubling down, determined to be the most powerful Vitale boss in history. Ruthless, relentless—a man willing to sacrifice anything, and anyone, to win.

“I’m not saying I’m walking out,” I shoot back, though the truth is, I want to. I want to walk away and never look back.

“Then what are you saying?”

“I just need time, okay? I’m not some cold-hearted family boss like you. I’m human, Dante. Just give me a moment to breathe.”

“Mimi.” His tone softens, just slightly, as he uses the nickname he and Marco used when we were kids. “You are a Vitale, and I expect you to step in when I ask you to.”

He holds my gaze, his icy blue eyes—the same shade as mine—piercing and unyielding. There’s a sternness in them, but something else flickers there too, something that makes him sigh, his shoulders relaxing just a little.

“Talk to me. You’ve done these deals a dozen times before. You’re a natural at it.”

I exhale, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m tired, Dante. Tired of the dirty dealings, the lies, the cheating... all of it.” But I don’t dare voice the word that haunts me. Death. The scent of it still lingers around me, like burnt ash clinging to the walls of this house.

He watches me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he steps forward, grabbing my shoulders, his gaze intense.

“You’re not going to last long if you keep fighting what we do.”

My eyes close, and I feel a single tear slip down my cheek. I hate showing weakness, hate that he can see just how fragile I feel. But I can’t help it—not when every part of me is fighting to escape this life, even as it drags me down.

Dante sighs, his grip loosening. “Fine. One week. That’s it. Then I need you back.”

And with that, he turns away, heading up the stairs toward his office—the war room, as I call it. It was our father’s old office, where he decided who would live, who would die, and what message their death would send. Mafia men love their messages. Every life taken, every body disposed of, is a message to someone.

“I’ll be there,” I whisper, the words almost choking me as they hang in the empty room.

But as I watch Dante disappear down the hall, a dark realization settles in my chest. In this life, there is no end, no escape. No matter how far I run, there will always be another message waiting to be sent.

Chapter 3 Adrian

Four days before Christmas

The city lights filter through the curtains, casting a faint glow over the tangled sheets beside me. Natalia—or maybe it was Nicole—sprawls next to me, her body still flushed from the pleasure I gave her. She’s breathless, smiling lazily, a satisfied look on her face that most men would take pride in.

But I’m not most men.

I lean back against the headboard, my muscles buzzing with a dull ache, my mind a million miles away from her. My hands roamed her body like they’ve done with countless others, teasing, claiming, bringing her to the edge again and again. She’ll probably think about me for weeks, replaying tonight as if it was something special.

But it wasn’t. Not for me.

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