Page 86 of Christmas Vows with the Devil

Suddenly, Giancarlo clears his throat and looks pointedly at me. I sigh, knowing what comes next, but make my way over to the kitchen table and join him. We stare at each other for a few seconds, a wealth of emotions passing between us.

He no longer looks at me with hatred, but I still see caution in his eyes. I glance at Gia for backup but her gaze is firmly fixed on her dwindling stack of pancakes.Traitor.

“So, I see that you’re doing well,” he starts.

I nod awkwardly. What do you say to your girlfriend’s father after abandoning her six years ago and prolonging a blood feud with her family?

“I just want to thank you for the role you played in bringing Matteo home,” he continues, tracing his finger on the wooden table. I stare at his thick gold rings to distract myself from my nervousness.

“He’s my son,” I say quietly, so Matteo won’t hear. “I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

“Good,” he looks at me finally, holding my gaze. “And what’s next?”

I sip my coffee, turning the question over in my mind.What’s next?

“Well,” I begin carefully. “I’d like to be a part of his life…and his mother’s life, in any way that she’ll allow.”

I glance over at Gia and see every single Vitale unabashedly staring at me. Russo, too. He’s sipping coffee and watching the entire scene play out like a soap opera, a huge grin on his face. Gia finally stands and comes over to save me from her father’s inquisition.

“Dante,” she asks, her voice filled with forced excitement. “Should we take Matteo for a walk in Central Park today? He’s never been to New York before.”

Matteo hears this and shoots out of his seat, crashing into Gia in his excitement.

“Please, please,” he begs, bouncing from foot to foot. “Can we feed the ducks, Mom? Please?”

I chuckle and nod, ruffling his curls.

“I’ll pack some bread for the ducks,” Gia’s mom chimes in.

And just like that, we’re bundled into Russo’s SUV an hour later, heading back to the city. Still on edge, I make sure to take two of my toughest guys with me, but with my father out of the picture, I breathe easier. Rocco drops us off near Central Park and circles around to look for parking.

We lead Matteo to the pond, armed with a bag of bread and hot chocolate in a thermos—whipped up by a group of overly enthusiastic Vitale women. He swings between us, each hand clasped in one of ours, and my heart heals a little bit. The last time I saw him, in my father’s headquarters, he looked haunted.

Now, his face radiates joy as he sprints toward the ducks. Gia laughs and calls him back, telling him to watch out for the water. And I can’t help but drag her toward me, planting a big goofy kiss on her cheek. She giggles and swats at me playfully.

This is it. This is what I want my life to be. Gia, Matteo, and I…happy.

We sit on a bench, watching Matteo run around and throw bread to the ducks. Gia strokes my hand gently, playing with myfingers. I know she has questions for me, the same questions her father likely had, but she’s holding back.

“We should tell him…here,” she says finally. I look down at her hopeful face, tilted toward me, and kiss her tenderly. She pulls away suddenly, insecurity making her fidget with her coat zipper. “I mean, if you want him to know, of course…I’m not going to force you to step up if you don’t want to.”

“Gia,” I grab her chin, tilting it up so she’s forced to meet my gaze. “I meant what I said to your father this morning. I want to be there…for Matteo, for you. Whatever that means, whatever I have to do.”

She smiles as her eyes grow watery. “Okay, okay, I need to get it together and stop blubbering like a baby.”

I wipe a rogue tear from her cheek and laugh, pulling her closer. She calls Matteo over and we pour out three tiny cups of hot chocolate to share. The scene is idyllic, with powder-like white snow blanketing Central Park in the early hours of the morning.

The sun illuminates the pond, bouncing off the snow and water, and throwing light across the trees. New Yorkers are slowly waking up, taking to the paths and trails surrounding the pond to jog or walk their dogs. We sit together on the bench, Matteo wedged between us, sipping our festive drinks and people-watching.

I know Gia is wracking her brain, trying to find a way to broach the subject of Matteo’s parentage in a way that won’t scare the shit out of him. I am as well, but coming up short. I glance at her and she shrugs her shoulders helplessly.

Matteo, being the perceptive kid he is, picks up on our awkwardness. He glances up at Gia and swivels to face me, a chocolate mustache crusting his upper lip.

“Are you my mom’s boyfriend now?”

Gia chokes on her hot chocolate, sputtering and smacking her chest. I hide my smile and nod solemnly.

“How do you feel about that?” I ask him, wanting to squirm in my seat when his pint-sized gaze appraises me, debating whether I’m suitable or not.

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