Page 46 of Christmas Vows with the Devil

“Nothing.”

“You seem distant,” I push. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He nods and goes back to dragging his chicken across his plate.Weird.

Is it because I snuck out of his room this morning? But he saved me from the accident. He held me so tightly at the bottom of that cliff, like he never wanted to let go.

I stare at Dante all throughout dinner, noting every muscle twitch, every small action. I must look like an insane stalker, but he doesn’t say a word. He checks his phone every few minutes,tapping out quick messages every now and then.Business not going well?I wonder.

When everyone’s had their share of my mother’s perfectly cooked cranberry chicken, the family begins drifting to the living room for party games. I move to join them, but Dante quietly slips away.

Indecision makes me draw to a halt, frozen in the empty dining room. To my left, the bright family room beckons me, Aunt Carla’s laugh like a warm hand drawing me closer. To my right, a cold dark kitchen awaits complete with a cold, angry Dante.

God, why am I always trapped in indecision? Why can’t I just do something already? Make a move, say the right thing, act in some way.

I feel like I’m always hovering between should I or shouldn’t I—and frankly, I’m sick of it. I spin on my heel and walk into the silent kitchen, flipping on the lights. It’s empty as I walk toward the back door, but I spot a flicker of light on the porch.

It’s freezing when I step outside, the air biting at my skin. But I spot him instantly, leaning against the porch railing, a cigarette between his fingers.

“Since when do you smoke?” I ask, stepping closer.

He doesn’t turn around, just takes another drag, exhaling a plume of smoke into the cold night air. “Since tonight, apparently.”

I fold my arms, watching him closely. “What’s going on, Dante?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” I move closer, the tension between us thicker than the fog of smoke surrounding us.

“Something’s wrong. I can tell.”

He’s silent for a moment, staring out at the snow-covered lawn. Then he sighs, stubbing the cigarette out on the railing. “It’s New York. There’s been an attack.”’

“An attack?”

“Three of my men,” he says, his voice rough. “They were killed. Ambushed.”

I feel the ground shift beneath me. Someone’s targeting the Manzos, and things are escalating.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He finally looks at me, his eyes dark and stormy. “Because it’s not your problem, Gia. It’s mine.”

“But itismy problem,” I say, my heart pounding. “My entire family is already involved. The attack on the estate, the letter, the brakes on the Mustang, and now this? It can’t be a coincidence.”

“These things just happen,” he says, shaking his head. “I can handle it.”

“No, you can’t,” I snap, frustration boiling over. “Not alone. This is bigger than you, bigger than the feud between our families.”

I know I’m pushing him, but I don’t care. We’re in danger. All of us.

“I need to talk to my father,” I say, already turning toward the house. “We need to do something.”

“Gia…” Dante grabs my arm, slamming me against him, his grip tight. “This isn’t your fight.”

I freeze for a second, savoring the comfort, the feel of him against my back.Now isn’t the time, Gia,I chide myself.

I spin around and stare up at him, my pulse racing. “Maybe not. But I’m not going to sit around and wait for someone to take another shot at my family…or yours.”

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