Page 36 of Christmas Vows with the Devil

“I’ll go out with him,” my mom volunteers, worry clouding her face.

I nod as Matteo slips on his boots and rushes out the door with my mother following closely behind.

I shouldn’t have come home for Christmas. I should’ve stayed far away, protected Matteo from this life, from everything it represents. But I couldn’t say no.

Not to my father’s ultimatum. Not to Matteo’s desire to meet his family.

And now I’m stuck here, in the middle of a brewing avalanche, with the people I love trapped in the middle of it.

“That Dante sure looks delicious with his shirt off, doesn’t it?” Aunt Carla’s overly dramatic whisper tears me from my brooding thoughts.

“Even with the bloody bandage,” adds Aunt Lucia with a wink. I glare at them, wondering how they can joke at a time like this.

“What? Gia, you need to stop being so uppity and start appreciating that Greek god parading himself right in front of your nose,” Carla pushes.

“He’s not parading,” I grumble, arms crossed like a petulant teenager. “And he’s not even that good-looking.”

The aunts gasp in mock horror, acting like middle-school girls. Aunt Lucia fans herself, pretending to swoon. Aunt Carla cackles, making kissy faces out the window where the men are returning from their perimeter patrol.

“Stop it,” I toss a sugar cube at each of them, but I can feel the giggles rising inside me. When Dante walks in through the kitchen entrance, the aunts freeze, blushing like teenagers caught red-handed. I can’t help it, I burst out laughing.

That sets them off and we’re collapsing around the kitchen island, giggling like lunatics. Dante stares in confusion, his gaze darting between us. The stunned look on his face just encourages us more and I have to wipe the tears streaming down my face.

I haven’t laughed this hard in what feels like a lifetime.

Dante shakes his head and limps out of the kitchen, clutching his side. I instantly feel a little guilty for laughing.

Aunt Lucia senses the change in my emotions and wraps her arm around me, pulling me close.

“Sometimes, laughter is the best medicine.”

I nod, staring sadly at Dante’s retreating form.

“And if that doesn’t work,” Aunt Carla chimes in, winking and shoving me through the kitchen door. “You can always count on great sex with a Greek god—if you’re lucky.”

Chapter Twelve

Dante

I wake in a haze, the pain medication clouding my mind and vision.

The sky outside my bedroom window is awash with purple and pink hues, telling me I’ve been asleep for most of the day.

After the Vitale’s personal doctor stopped by and removed the bullet from my side, I ate a stack of Aunt Carla’s pancakes—personally delivered by the chef herself.

I’m lying in bed, waiting for the medication to fully kick in and knock me out, but my mind had other ideas.

It isn’t the pain keeping me awake. It’s Gia.

Seeing her terror-stricken face during the attack did something to me. I’ve never been so desperate to protect another human before, not even my right-hand man or closest family. The drive to keep Gia safe was so strong it scared me—but it fueled me, too.

Now, her presence lingers in every corner of this room, clawing at my control, gnawing at my thoughts. I should befocusing on finding out who’s behind the attack, but instead, I’m dreaming of her.

Flashes of Gia’s fear early this morning mingle with her laughing in the kitchen.Goddamn, I missed that laugh.I shift in the bed, grimacing as the movement agitates my stitches. A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts.

“Come in,” I grunt, priming myself for more of Aunt Carla’s aggressive flirting.

Instead, Gia steps in, her eyes darting to my bandaged torso, then back to my face. She shuts the door behind her softly, like she’s afraid of waking a sleeping monster. I sit up a little, propping myself against the headboard. My heart pounds with every step she takes closer.

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