Page 72 of Christmas Vows with the Devil

I think about the brief moments we’ve had together. He’s such a bright, happy kid—full of Gia’s sassiness and boldness. But I see bits of myself in him too. The serious way he approaches the things he’s passionate about, the way he listens more than he speaks, always observing and learning.

I don’t want this life for him. I don’t want him to know the coldness of the world, the brutality of it. I want him to be thekind of person I never got to be. It’s strange, this desire to protect him, to shield him from everything that once shaped me.

I stub out my cigarette and grab the letter. It feels heavy in my hand, burning through my skin. I stroll casually to the front door and spot the man of the hour. Josh, a scrawny kid I hired last month, slouches against the door, his gun jutting out from his holster.

He’s been on door duty for the past few days and it didn’t take me long to realize he’s the rat. His shifty eyes, his demeanor—he’s uncomfortable—scared to be up here spying on me for my father.

“Hey kid,” I say, my voice casual. He jumps to attention, puffing out his chest, trying to impress me.

“Boss.”

“Here,” I thrust the letter into his hand. “Get this to John Manzo. I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding him.”

His face morphs into something like a shocked goldfish—eyes bugging out, mouth open. “Sir, I have no idea…isn’t he…I mean…”

I put the kid out of his misery, spinning him out the door, patting his shoulder in mock friendliness. He moves to take a step and I wrap my fingers around his neck, leaning in close.

“Give this to my father,” I whisper, my voice laced with venom. “I hope he promised to protect you because if I see your sorry ass again, you’re dead.”

I turn away, heading for the elevator with a sense of finality. This is the last hand I have to play.

Either it works, or we all lose. There’s no middle ground.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Gia

I wake up with a start, soft sunlight filtering through the blinds. Outside my door, I can hear my family, up and about. The smell of coffee and pancakes fills the penthouse and I smile at the thought of Aunt Carla trying to cook in Dante’s high-tech kitchen.

Reaching across the bed, my fingers brush the empty sheets where Dante should be. My chest tightens. It feels wrong—like something's missing like he's been ripped away from me.

My heart pounds as I pad into the adjoining bathroom, hoping to find him. Empty.He’s probably out there with my uncles and father, strategizing, chugging coffee.

I brush my teeth and splash cold water on my face, noting my puffy racoon eyes. I tell myself that there will be no tears today—I need to stay strong, think clearly, for Matteo. Tossing on some clothes haphazardly pulled from a pile on the floor, I make my way to the kitchen.

Several heads turn to look at me when I enter, their eyes saying everything. No one has seen him. They don’t know where he went.

“Dante?” I say, hoping I’m wrong. My father stands, shaking his head.

“He’s not here,” he says, walking over to me with a fresh mug of coffee. “Even Rocco doesn’t know.”

Nausea curls in my stomach. It's not just his absence that bothers me. It's the weight pressing down on my chest, the cold realization that without Dante, nothing feels secure.

Somewhere along the way, he became my rock, my grounding force, always bringing me back down to Earth, always there to kiss away my tears and stroke my back.

There’s no pretending—I love him, and I can’t stand the thought of losing him. I thought I could shield myself, but it’s too late.

Uncle Tony steps forward, placing a steadying hand on my shoulder. “We’ll find him, Gia. He didn’t just vanish.”

I take a shaky breath, trying to gather my thoughts. I won’t lose him, not now. We need help, someone who can offer more than we can manage alone. That’s when Tony suggests something that pulls me out of my panic.

The Russos.

My father leads me to the kitchen table. “We need support, Gia. I’ve been out of the game too long. I have contacts, sure…but, we need someone more capable.”

“With more knowledge too,” adds Uncle Tony. He explains that they received a tip early this morning about the Russos. They’ve been working with John Manzo recently—and they’re not happy with the arrangement.

“It could be the perfect opportunity,” Uncle Roman says excitedly. “They want out of their deal with him, and he willrefuse. We get them on our side and kill the same bird with two stones, you get it?”

---