Christmas Vows with the Devil

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Gia

Six Years Ago

Dante's rough hands slide slowly down my back. His touch sends shivers through me as I arch under him. The warmth of his breath, the steady beat of his heart—this is heaven.

His dark chocolate eyes hold mine, full of that fierce need that always pulls me under.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he whispers, his lips brushing my ear. I shiver under his hot breath.

"I know."

I know I’m acting coy and his low laugh drips with desire. In one swift motion, our bodies are flush against each other. I tilt my head back, eyes half-closed, savoring the moment.

A moan escapes as his lips trail down my neck, hands exploring the curves of my body. Every touch, every kiss, is fire against my skin.

We’ve been like this for months now—two crazy kids in love, unable to keep our hands off each other.

I tangle my fingers in his messy, dark hair, pulling him closer. With a soft groan, he grips my waist, guiding me back onto the bed. I’m completely lost in the heat between us, the world outside fading away.

"Dante..." I whisper, my voice needy.

He settles his intense gaze on me, committing every inch of me to memory.

"You’re mine, Gia," he murmurs, his voice rough. "Always."

"Always.”

Our lips crash together in a hungry kiss. His hands roam over my curves, inching my sundress up higher and higher. My ragged breathing gives away my desperation.

I arch into him, needing more, craving the connection only he can give me.

Dante Manzo is everything I’ve ever wanted—dangerous, intoxicating, and all-consuming, but with a soft, sweet side he brings out just for me.

He growls, then sends my panties flying in the air. My sundress follows the underwear. He slides inside me, groaning with pleasure. In that moment, it’s just us.

The world outside the room ceases to exist. I don’t think about our family names or the chaos that constantly surrounds us. I don’t give a damn about our fathers and who they are or their petty arguments.

We move in a rhythm we’ve perfected this summer. Our bodies are entangled, hearts racing. I feel myself inching closer and closer to that delicious release, begging him not to stop.

“Say it again,” he growls against my neck.

I’m lost in a world of bliss.

“Say what, Dante?”

“Tell me now,” he commands, voice dark and heavy with pleasure.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you, Dante.”

I know the words will send him over the edge. He proves me right.

He loses control, driving deeper and harder into me. My name is on his lips like a sacred promise.

“I love you, too,” he breathes, as we both reach our release.

Hours later, satisfied and sore, I stretch across Dante’s bed. His dark eyes follow my every move, that familiar smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“You have a staring problem, you know that?” I tease, running my fingers through my silky raven hair.

“I just can’t believe you’re mine.” His voice, soft and vulnerable, gives me pause.

He leans down, brushing a kiss against my hair. For a moment, everything is utterly perfect.

Until it isn’t.

The door slams open, tearing a scream from my throat as Dante shoots to his feet. My stomach plummets when Rocco storms in, eyes wild.

“Dante, it’s your father.”

“What happened?” Dante goes into full battle mode in seconds. He tosses on last night’s pants, the ones I’d so desperately tugged off. A white linen shirt covers his beautiful tattoos, which decorate his solid arms and broad chest.

“He was attacked. They’re saying it was the Vitales.”

The words float around my brain, not making sense. My family? I sit up, the sheet clutched against me as I try to make sense of this.

“What?” Dante’s voice is low, dangerous.

Rocco shifts, glancing at me apologetically. “They left their calling card.”

I feel the blood drain from my face.

“Dante, you know that’s not true,” I whisper. “You know my family would never ...”

“Then why are they claiming the attack?”

“I don’t know! Maybe someone’s setting us up!” I can hear the desperation creeping into my voice, but he’s not even listening.

Rocco tosses him a phone, and I watch as Dante’s face hardens.

His jaw is clenched, knuckles white around the device. “Your name’s all over this, Gia. My guys say there’s been money sent to you on a regular basis and the phone calls…how could you?”

“I didn’t do this. Dante, I swear. Why would I do this?”

I’m hysterical now, climbing out of bed and dragging the sheet with me. I need to touch him. I need him to feel our love again.

His eyes go cold and distant. It’s not a look I am used to seeing from my sweet, protective Dante.

“I really thought you loved me.” He laughs cruelly. “How could I be so stupid?”

“No, please.” I glance around wildly, setting my sights on Rocco. “Tell him! Tell him I had nothing to do with this.”

“Once a Vitale,” Dante growls. “Always a Vitale.”

The words punch me in the gut, knocking the breath from my lungs. I stand there stunned, the sheet we’d just made love on slipping to the floor. Rocco shifts his eye but I’m too distraught to care about my nakedness when my heart is lying shattered like glad on the floor. The man I love, the man I thought I’d spend my life with is looking at me like I’m nothing—like I’m the enemy.

“Dante, please, you have to believe me,” I try again, my voice cracking.

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out, Gia!”

His words slice into me, leaving me raw and shaking. Tears well up in my eyes, but I blink them back. I will not show weakness. I’m innocent.

Not bothering with my clothes, I wrap my trench coat around me and bolt through the house.

I don’t look back.

I can’t.

I run until I can’t anymore, hunching over and leaning against the wall of one of the many fancy houses in the area where Dante lives.

Gasping for air, I pull out my phone and call the only number that is set in my favorites. When the line is picked up, I just say, “9-1-1. I need picked up.”

I hang up the phone and slide down the wall, barely caring if my long coat is covering my nakedness. I hunker against the cold cement behind me, my heart feeling like it’s struggling to beat.

Teddy, my father’s trusty driver, doesn’t take long to come to my pin. He spares me a worried glance and ushers me into the dark sedan. The tinted windows, bulletproof of course, hide my tears from the world. I weep the entire way home, lamenting my fate.

I couldn’t have known then, that the storm had just begun, barreling right through my life to tear it all apart.

I didn’t know I was about to be a single mother.

I couldn’t imagine that I’d be leaving New York, my family, and the only life I had ever known.

I had no idea there were so many worse things than a broken heart. But I was about to find out.