Page 42 of Christmas Vows with the Devil

I press my forehead to the window again, squinting at the whiteness, and realize I’m inside of a giant snowbank. My wrist throbs as I swipe at a streak of blood on the glass, but I’m alive.

I sit in shock, half processing my situation and half planning my escape. How did this happen? I remember the deer, but I didn’t hit it. Memories slowly filter in, and it hits me that the brakes weren’t working.

Did someone tamper with the car? Was this some kind of attack? Or was my father due to replace a set of faulty brakes on the car?

I can’t shake the feeling of dread as I unbuckle my seatbelt and push open the door. The heavy snow surrounding me stops the door from budging more than an inch. I scramble to try the passenger’s side, but it doesn’t even move.

Kneeling in the passenger’s seat, I take in my surroundings. The entire vehicle is enclosed by a thick layer of snow. No one would even see me from the road unless they were looking.

I’m well and truly fucked.

I lean against the seat, trying to catch my breath. My father’s car. His precious Mustang. Totaled.

Panic sets in as I realize what could’ve happened. Was this a warning? Or something more?

And then it hits me. This wasn’t an accident. Someone wanted me—or more likely, my father—out of the picture.

I take a deep breath, my mind racing. I have to get back. I have to figure out what’s going on. But first, I need to get out of here before whoever did this comes to finish the job.

I root around in my pockets for my phone, only to realize I never grabbed it from the nightstand. Curling up in the seat, I let myself sob for a few minutes to get the fear out of my system.

Then I force myself to open a window and start digging. I have never been a princess who needs saving. I’m getting myself out of this mess.

Someone has it out for my family, and I’m not about to sit here and wait for help that’ll never come. For any of us.

Chapter Fourteen

Dante

She left.

I saw her leave, felt her steal out of bed in the early hours of the morning. I don’t know what I was expecting. But I gave her the grace to make her escape, pretending to be in a deep sleep.

Somehow, the combination of painkillers and last night’s activities lulled me back into jumbled dreams. Now, the sun shines through the open curtains, reflecting off the snow and blinding me. I check my phone, shocked that it’s past lunchtime.

The thought of Carla barging into a room reeking of sex and Gia makes me shudder, so I hastily throw on some clothes and head to the kitchen. I’m surprised to find it completely empty, but I pour myself a tepid cup of coffee and step out the back door.

The morning air bites at my skin, helping me shake off the haze from last night. The house is quiet, unusually so for a family like the Vitales. Normally, there’s noise—constant chaos, chatter, movement. But today, something feels off.

I spot Matteo’s toy car near the kitchen and smile to myself. That kid, he’s something special. Part of me can’t help but feel drawn to him. It’s a strange connection I can’t explain, but it’s there.

Shaking my head, I try to focus on something else, anything else, but Gia keeps creeping into my thoughts.

What the hell was last night? A one-time thing to tie up loose ends? Or was it the beginning of something new—something stronger than teenage puppy love?

The way she looked at me, the way her body felt so familiar in my arms again, it was like no time had passed. But I know I can’t get sucked back into all of that.

Not now. Not with everything at stake. Still, I can’t deny it any longer—I need her. I want her. There’s no use pretending anymore.

I scan the house while sipping my coffee. From the kitchen door, I have a clear view of the entire grounds, along with the stables, garage, and greenhouse.

Strange—it’s like the entire Vitale family disappeared overnight. A hard knot forms in my gut.

Is this a setup? What’s happening here?

My hand instinctively reaches for the holster for my gun, and panic shoots through me as I realize I left it upstairs. I grab my phone instead, checking for missed calls or emergency texts. Nothing.

Just as I’m about to walk back inside, Uncle Roman’s voice rings out from the grove of pines behind the garage.

---