Page 85 of Christmas Vows with the Devil

I love you.

I love you, too.

You did the right thing.

I know.

We rifle through the closet and pull out clean clothes that somehow fit neither of us. Too tired to care, we climb into bed, Matteo firmly nestled between us. He stirs but doesn’t wake and Dante raises an eyebrow at me, asking if this is okay.

“It’s fine,” I whisper, reaching over Matteo to stroke his arm. “We’ll tell him the truth when he wakes up…the whole truth.”

Something in Dante breaks and his eyes shine with hope, love, and devotion. I close my eyes, savoring the moment, and fall into a deep, satisfying sleep.

***

I wake with the early morning light on my face and instantly reach out to feel for Matteo. He’s still snoozing soundly, his little arms wrapped around Dante’s thick one. I lounge in bed, staring at my boys—Matteo a miniature version of Dante.

Their soft snores are timed to the same rhythm and I creep out of bed, trying not to wake them. I glance back before slipping out the door and my heart feels so full, like it might burst from joy.

Downstairs, the kitchen is lively with early morning chaos. Sometime during the night, all the Vitales made it back to the safe house, exhausted but unhurt. Russo sits at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and chatting with my father. His arm is bandaged in a sling, but he grins from ear to ear when he sees me.

“Morning, princess!”

I nod at him and shoot him a shy smile. I don’t normally mess with these low-rung mafia kind of guys but Russo proved himself last night. He got my boys back to me, safe and sound, and for that, I’m forever grateful. I’ll even let him call me princess if it makes him happy.

I join my mom and aunts at the kitchen island, desperate for food. Aunt Carla slides a thick stack of her famous pancakes in my direction and my mom fills an empty cup with coffee.

“All good upstairs?” My mom winks at me, slipping her hand over mine and giving me a comforting squeeze.

“So good,” I say and dig into the pancake stack. The aunts chatter around me, going over the details of last night, but I tune them out. I don’t need to hear how everything happened.

All I need to know is that we’re safe now. And we are.

I’m lost in thought when I hear Dante’s rich voice float across the kitchen. “Carla, do you happen to have a few extra pancakes for us, you divine woman?”

Aunt Carla giggles and rushes to the warming plate, piling a big stack of pancakes on a clean plate. I turn to see Dante, his hair mussed and eyes bleary, framed in the doorway. He’s holding Matteo’s hand, who couldn’t look any happier at the moment.

Dante meets my gaze, smiling softly, and I burst into tears.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Dante

Gia sits at the kitchen island, a stack of pancakes half demolished in front of her. Her thick, raven hair falls in waves over her shoulders. She’s still pale, the exhaustion showing under her eyes, and yet, I’m awestruck by how beautiful she is.

Then she bursts into tears and I panic for a second.Should I not have brought Matteo down here? Maybe I shouldn’t be holding his hand?

But the second he opened his eyes this morning to find himself snuggled against my chest; he’d been a ball of excitement. He’s the one that forced me out of bed and dragged me downstairs toward the smell of pancakes.

Gia smiles, wiping away her tears, and I realize it’s joy that’s causing her tears.

I’ve become too used to her crying out of fear, anger, and sadness over the past few days. It’s shocking to see her so relaxed, so lighthearted. I swoop Matteo up onto my hip and stroll over to Gia, kissing her on the top of her head.

Her cheeks turn pink but she doesn’t pull away. The Vitales casually go about their business, pretending they don’t see the scene unfolding in front of them—theveryfamilial scene.

“Matteo,” Aunt Carla pipes up, saving us all the embarrassment. “I have a pancake with your name written on it.”

Matteo instantly scrambles down to the floor, demanding to see his name written on a pancake. I chuckle and take the stool next to Gia, slipping her hand into mine underneath the counter. Aunt Lucia and her mother hide their smiles, avoiding our eyes.

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