Page 6 of Christmas Vows with the Devil

Hell, I’ve been single for six years. Ever since Gia…

Stop. She doesn’t exist anymore for me.

I turn to Rocco, who’s wiping blood from his face.

"Clean this up. Leave nothing behind."

As I head back to my office building, my mind drifts lazily to thoughts I usually bury deep—thoughts of the life I could have had. My brain warns me not to go there again, but I can’t stop.Gia.

We were young, but I loved her in a way that scared me. I was ready to give up everything for her.

Until that night. Until I saw the proof that her family had betrayed mine. Thatshebetrayedme.

I had to walk away, no matter how much it tore me apart. And now, after all these years, it still haunts me.

But I can’t afford to be haunted.

The city lights cast shadows over my face as we speed through the streets and I bury my regrets deep inside my shattered heart. If I don’t look too closely at my feelings, I don’t have to acknowledge that they are there at all.

***

“They’ve got him downstairs.”

I nod, standing up and adjusting the cuffs of my shirt. “Let’s get this over with.”

The hidden basement is colder than the blustery air outside. The kid tied to the chair in the center of the room is already bloody and shivering.

I see my guys have put in some work on his face. It’s so swollen he can only open one eye. He’s shaking, but trying to hide it.

Good, that makes it more fun.

I circle him slowly, the weight of my father’s favorite knife heavy in my hand. His breath is ragged, uneven.

“You know who I am?” I ask, my voice calm.

He nods, barely able to keep his head up. “Il Diavolo.”

“And you know what happens to men who steal from me?”

He doesn’t answer. I don’t expect him to.

The fear in his eyes tells me everything I need to know.

I flick the switchblade open, watching the light reflect off the steel as I twirl it between my fingers. “You think you can steal from me? You think I wouldn’t find you?”

“I—please…” His voice cracks as he speaks. I can see the panic rising in him—the failure. It’s pathetic. “I didn’t do anything…”

The blade slices through his skin before he can finish. He screams, his body jerking in the chair, but the ropes hold him tight. Blood runs down his cheek, pooling at the base of his throat. I wipe the knife clean on his shirt.

“That’s the first cut.” I lean closer. “There will be many more. But I’m a fair man, after all. Tell me who you’re working with and I’ll try to make this quick.”

“I can’t.”

The look in his eyes makes me go still.

He’s so young, so goddam young—no older than a high school senior.

I can’t do this shit.

---