Page 3 of Christmas Vows with the Devil

“Dante, it’s your father.”

“What happened?” Dante goes into full battle mode in seconds. He tosses on last night’s pants, the ones I’d so desperately tugged off. A white linen shirt covers his beautiful tattoos, which decorate his solid arms and broad chest.

“He was attacked. They’re saying it was the Vitales.”

The words float around my brain, not making sense.My family?I sit up, the sheet clutched against me as I try to make sense of this.

“What?” Dante’s voice is low, dangerous.

Rocco shifts, glancing at me apologetically. “They left their calling card.”

I feel the blood drain from my face.

“Dante, you know that’s not true,” I whisper. “You know my family would never ...”

“Then why are they claiming the attack?”

“I don’t know! Maybe someone’s setting us up!” I can hear the desperation creeping into my voice, but he’s not even listening.

Rocco tosses him a phone, and I watch as Dante’s face hardens.

His jaw is clenched, knuckles white around the device. “Your name’s all over this, Gia. My guys say there’s been money sent to you on a regular basis and the phone calls…how could you?”

“I didn’t do this. Dante, I swear. Why would I do this?”

I’m hysterical now, climbing out of bed and dragging the sheet with me. I need to touch him. I need him to feel our love again.

His eyes go cold and distant. It’s not a look I am used to seeing from my sweet, protective Dante.

“I really thought you loved me.” He laughs cruelly. “How could I be so stupid?”

“No, please.” I glance around wildly, setting my sights on Rocco. “Tell him! Tell him I had nothing to do with this.”

“Once a Vitale,” Dante growls. “Always a Vitale.”

The words punch me in the gut, knocking the breath from my lungs. I stand there stunned, the sheet we’d just made love on slipping to the floor. Rocco shifts his eye but I’m too distraught to care about my nakedness when my heart is lying shattered like glad on the floor. The man I love, the man I thought I’d spend my life with is looking at me like I’m nothing—like I’m the enemy.

“Dante, please, you have to believe me,” I try again, my voice cracking.

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out, Gia!”

His words slice into me, leaving me raw and shaking. Tears well up in my eyes, but I blink them back. I will not show weakness. I’m innocent.

Not bothering with my clothes, I wrap my trench coat around me and bolt through the house.

I don’t look back.

I can’t.

I run until I can’t anymore, hunching over and leaning against the wall of one of the many fancy houses in the area where Dante lives.

Gasping for air, I pull out my phone and call the only number that is set in my favorites. When the line is picked up, I just say, “9-1-1. I need picked up.”

I hang up the phone and slide down the wall, barely caring if my long coat is covering my nakedness. I hunker against the cold cement behind me, my heart feeling like it’s struggling to beat.

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