Page 13 of Christmas Vows with the Devil

As we are ushered inside by the butler, I notice that garlands line the balcony railings and fluffy wreaths hang on every door. A towering Christmas tree sparkles in the foyer.

It’s like stepping into a scene from a holiday movie, except this isn’t a fairytale.

This is the Vitale family. And nothing about this week will be easy.

Matteo lets out a quiet gasp as we wander inside. I turn to look at him and find his deep chocolate eyes—Dante’s eyes—wide with wonder.

“You okay, buddy?”

He nods, his dark curls bouncing with the movement. His innocence makes this harder. The poor kid has no idea what we’re walking into.

Matteo’s little hand grips mine as we step away from the massive front doors that the butler is closing behind us.

“It’s like the gingerbread house we made last year, isn’t it Mama?”

I glance down at his angelic face. He’s been denied this life for so long. I almost feel guilty for keeping him away from his family, but then I remember that my actions have kept him safe all these years.

But as I look at his wide-eyed wonder, I think that maybe this was a good idea after all.

The butler, Antonio, turns toward us as he closes the doors. “Ms. Vitale and young Matteo. Welcome.”

The foyer is filled with the scent of pine and cinnamon. Matteo drifts toward the nutcracker soldiers standing guard near the staircase, mesmerized.

My mother has outdone herself. Every inch of the place screams Christmas.

“Wow!” Matteo exclaims, his eyes glued to the wooden statues.

I force a smile. “It’s something, isn’t it?”

But I can’t enjoy it. The knot in my stomach tightens with every step. My father’s ultimatum hangs over me like a dark cloud.

He made it sound so simple. But I know that nothing is ever simple with my family.

As we troop into the living room, laughter echoes all around us. Father stands by the fireplace, his face set in a forced smile.

“Gia, I’m glad you decided to join us this year.”

He pulls me into a stiff hug before turning his attention to Matteo. His expression softens for just a moment.

“And Matteo, my little grandson. Look how big you’ve gotten.”

My gaze hardens as I watch them. Matteo deserves warmth and affection. But I can’t forget how cold my father has been to me these past few years. His ultimatum about this party after months of silence still stings.

“Matteo,” I say softly, trying to pull my emotions together. “Why don’t you go explore the lodge with Vitto?”

Matteo's eyes sparkle with excitement as he runs off. He’s already talking a mile a minute about the snowman he wants to build.

Aunt Carla bustles in next, cradling a small stack of our family’s vintage Christmas ornaments in her arms. Her over-the-top festive spirit is always something to behold.

"Gia, darling! Look at you!”

Her papery red lips crush against my cheek as she smothers me in a hug.

“You look tired. You should wear red—it suits the season! Gosh, it’s been years, hasn’t it?”

I offer her a weak smile. Aunt Carla is well-meaning, if a little much. But I’m in no mood for her enthusiasm.

After every relative in my family tree hugs and kisses me, I finally manage to escape.

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