Page 74 of Christmas Vows with the Devil

Russo laughs appreciatively. “I love a woman ready to fight,” he says. “Most women I encounter in the game are only too happy to enjoy the lavish lifestyle their husband provides. They don’t want to get their manicured hands dirty.”

I reach my hand out to shake his. He raises an eyebrow but accepts. I can feel my father fuming beside me, my uncles casting sidelong glances at me.

“I’m ready to fight,” I say. “And this time, I’m fighting dirty.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Dante

Oznam Enterprises sits like a steel behemoth under the dim glow of dawn. The towering corporate front of my father’s hidden empire is cold, impenetrable, and twisted. Everything about this place reeks of him—a grandiose statement wrapped in power and shadow.

But today, on this bleak gray morning, I’m here to put an end to it.

I stroll up to the back door by the loading docks like I’m supposed to be here. Glancing around, I spot no one—no security, no snipers hidden in the shadows. A shiver runs through me.Something feels off.

I punch in the security code—my mother’s birthday—knowing it’ll work. With one last glance behind me, I slip into the loading area and press myself into the shadows.

As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I spot pallets, stacks of boxes, and forklifts. Nothing out of the ordinary. No one here but me and my hammering heartbeat. I take a few deep breaths,trying to calm my nerves, and my hand creeps to the gun under my coat.

I came here to kill John Manzo. I came here to get my son back. I need to stay calm.

I move quickly through the shadows of the warehouse and crack open a door, sliding into a deserted lobby. The faint hum of the air conditioning is barely noticeable above the pounding in my ears. The cold opulence of the lobby stuns me for a second, but I keep moving.

As I take the elevator to the top floor, I brace myself. There might be a hundred men facing me with guns when the doors open, or there might be a dead end. Either way, I’m ready.

The doors slide open, and there he is, standing by the wall of windows like he’s been waiting for me. He turns, unperturbed, a smirk playing on his lips. It’s almost eerie, the calmness in his face.

I’ve seen him like this before—that calculating gaze, the eyes that have torn apart empires and left nothing in their wake. But this time, I’m not his protégé or his pawn. I’m his adversary.

I’m Il Diavolo.

“Dante.” He stretches my name out like an invitation. “You didn’t think you’d slip in unnoticed, did you? But I’m glad you’re here. We have a lot to discuss.”

I step forward, unable to hide the disgust in my voice. “You really thought you could hide forever, that I’d just fall in line and keep playing your game?”

The words feel like they’re burning in my throat.

He raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “It’s what I trained you for, my dear boy.”

His calm tone ignites something in me. I stride toward his desk, slamming my fists down, the force rattling his collection of pristine paperwork.

“Dear boy?” My voice shakes. I’m fighting to keep myself under control. “You ruined my life, destroyed my future, all for what—some twisted test of loyalty?”

He folds his hands calmly, looking me over as though appraising a piece of art he’s crafted. “Of course, it was a test. You’re my son, Dante, the only one who could carry on my legacy. But you were becoming weak—distracted, smitten with that Vitale girl. I couldn’t risk you aligning yourself with them.”

“So, you set me up? Set us all up, let me believe you were dead? You’re more insane than I thought.”

My fists clench, and every fiber of me screams to put an end to this. But his eyes remain glued on me, that dark glint still as sharp as it’s ever been. He gives a small, dismissive shrug, as though my reaction is nothing more than theatrics.

“Let me ask you something. Would you be the man you are today if I let you choose your own path? Would you be the king of New York City?Il Diavolo? Feared, admired, respected?”

He pauses for dramatic effect and my fingers twitch. I feel the cold hardness of the gun tucked against my ribs. It’s a reminder of why I came.

“Or would you be driving a minivan? Taking your son to soccer practice? Pretending like you don’t miss the glory of ruling over this city?”

“You never gave me a chance to choose, did you?” I spit back, anger and resentment surging through my veins. Any normal human would shrink beneath my gaze. They would cower and beg for mercy, but he just smiles coldly, shaking his head.

“I wanted to know, Dante. Could I trust you? Would you choose them over me, just because of a pretty face? It was a test,” he laughs, winking at me. “One you almost failed, by the way.”

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