Christmas Vows with the Devil

5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Gia

The drive up the mountain feels longer than usual. But maybe it’s just the dread gnawing at my stomach.

Snow-covered pines blur past as we near the lodge. Although, “lodge” has a different meaning in the Vitale household. Extravagant mansion tucked into the icy cliffs is a better description.

Matteo bounces in the back seat, staring out the window. He’s quiet, but I can feel his excitement simmering just beneath the surface.

“We’re almost there,” I say, more to fill the silence than to reassure him.

As we round the last curve, the Vitale Lodge appears. It’s grand, sprawling, and draped in twinkling lights. The windows glow with soft golden light, a warm contrast to the deep, snowy cold outside.

The sight of the house makes me think of eggnog and buttered rum and warm fireplaces.

As we are ushered inside by the butler, I notice that garlands line the balcony railings and fluffy wreaths hang on every door. A towering Christmas tree sparkles in the foyer.

It’s like stepping into a scene from a holiday movie, except this isn’t a fairytale.

This is the Vitale family. And nothing about this week will be easy.

Matteo lets out a quiet gasp as we wander inside. I turn to look at him and find his deep chocolate eyes—Dante’s eyes—wide with wonder.

“You okay, buddy?”

He nods, his dark curls bouncing with the movement. His innocence makes this harder. The poor kid has no idea what we’re walking into.

Matteo’s little hand grips mine as we step away from the massive front doors that the butler is closing behind us.

“It’s like the gingerbread house we made last year, isn’t it Mama?”

I glance down at his angelic face. He’s been denied this life for so long. I almost feel guilty for keeping him away from his family, but then I remember that my actions have kept him safe all these years.

But as I look at his wide-eyed wonder, I think that maybe this was a good idea after all.

The butler, Antonio, turns toward us as he closes the doors. “Ms. Vitale and young Matteo. Welcome.”

The foyer is filled with the scent of pine and cinnamon. Matteo drifts toward the nutcracker soldiers standing guard near the staircase, mesmerized.

My mother has outdone herself. Every inch of the place screams Christmas.

“Wow!” Matteo exclaims, his eyes glued to the wooden statues.

I force a smile. “It’s something, isn’t it?”

But I can’t enjoy it. The knot in my stomach tightens with every step. My father’s ultimatum hangs over me like a dark cloud.

He made it sound so simple. But I know that nothing is ever simple with my family.

As we troop into the living room, laughter echoes all around us. Father stands by the fireplace, his face set in a forced smile.

“Gia, I’m glad you decided to join us this year.”

He pulls me into a stiff hug before turning his attention to Matteo. His expression softens for just a moment.

“And Matteo, my little grandson. Look how big you’ve gotten.”

My gaze hardens as I watch them. Matteo deserves warmth and affection. But I can’t forget how cold my father has been to me these past few years. His ultimatum about this party after months of silence still stings.

“Matteo,” I say softly, trying to pull my emotions together. “Why don’t you go explore the lodge with Vitto?”

Matteo's eyes sparkle with excitement as he runs off. He’s already talking a mile a minute about the snowman he wants to build.

Aunt Carla bustles in next, cradling a small stack of our family’s vintage Christmas ornaments in her arms. Her over-the-top festive spirit is always something to behold.

"Gia, darling! Look at you!”

Her papery red lips crush against my cheek as she smothers me in a hug.

“You look tired. You should wear red—it suits the season! Gosh, it’s been years, hasn’t it?”

I offer her a weak smile. Aunt Carla is well-meaning, if a little much. But I’m in no mood for her enthusiasm.

After every relative in my family tree hugs and kisses me, I finally manage to escape.

I head up the sweeping staircase to my old room. The gnawing feeling in my gut roils and churns, threatening to bring my lunch back up.

Why the ultimatum? Why now?

Something about this entire event feels...wrong. Forced. I have a sinking suspicion that my father’s invitation isn’t just about Christmas.

As I flop onto my old four-poster bed, heady nostalgia hits me. This room holds so many haunting memories.

I look at the balcony where Dante had kissed me for the first time ages ago.

I think of the walk-in shower where I almost lost a tooth trying to recreate a steamy sex scene I read in a smutty book.

I’m lying on the bed where I gave myself to Dante for the first time.

Oh God, I need to get out of this place.

I throw on my jacket and head outside to find Matteo—if only to escape my ghosts.

The mountain lodge sparkles like it’s been plucked from a holiday postcard. Red and gold ribbons twine around every banister. Fresh pine boughs hang above the grand entrance. Twinkling lights cast a warm glow over the sprawling estate.

Matteo, my little ball of energy, is already caught up in the magic of Christmas. I laugh at Vitto’s stern face as he shows Matteo how to roll proper snowballs.

Maybe this week won’t be that bad. Maybe I can avoid that bedroom and all my memories as much as possible.

I hang out on the front lawn, watching Matteo’s cheeks turn rosy from the cold. As daylight slips into dusk, dark sedans start pulling into the driveway. More family and friends showing up for the Vitale extravaganza, no doubt.

After Matteo and Vitto proudly show off their snowmen, we head inside to get ready for dinner. Since tonight’s dinner is adults only, I bribe Matteo with an entire cheese pizza and an extended curfew. Vitto, seemingly relieved to be on babysitter duty, settles in to watch old Christmas movies in my room with Matteo.

I dress slowly, desperate to avoid tonight’s festivities. When I’ve procrastinated as much as I can, I finally opt for a forest green velvet dress and slip out of the room.

The formal room is bursting with holiday cheer. The ornate chandeliers glitter overhead as the scent of mulled wine fills the air. I nod and smile at old family friends and head straight for the bar.

Uncle Leo is at my side in an instant, dragging me into a conversation with his old cronies. I field questions about where I’ve been and what I’ve been up to. Thankfully, Mom swoops in to save me and we make the rounds, welcoming friends and family.

I see a few famous faces—powerful men and women with important family names in the mafia world. Say what you will about our family, but we’ve always been known to play nice with others.

Except with the Manzos , I think bitterly. Why did it have to be the Manzos who became our sworn enemies?

A sudden shiver runs down my back and I freeze.

There’s a shift in the atmosphere. The conversations around me turn into hushed murmurs and I note some worried faces. I glance at my mother and instantly recognize the pained, yet polite, look she’s wearing.

Slowly, I turn. My heart pounds like the wings of a trapped hummingbird.

And then, I see him.

Dante.

For a second, time ceases to exist. I blink nervously, thinking I’m imagining him.

He stands at the entrance of the ballroom, looking every bit the dark, brooding devil that haunts my dreams.

His tailored suit clings to his powerful frame, his dark eyes scanning the room like a predator. When they landed on me, my brain screams run !

But my feet are glued to the floor. Our eyes lock, and the memories—the pain—come rushing back in full force.

The betrayal.

The loss.

The heartbreak.

His intense gaze burns through me like fire.

My heart thuds in my chest. Anger, hatred, and something else entirely wash over me and threaten to spill out.

I hate him.

I despise him for what he did, for how everything fell apart.

But Lord help me, I still crave him.

Dante’s expression darkens as he makes his way across the room. Every step is slow and deliberate. I feel the tension building, like a taut wire ready to snap.

“Gia.”

And just like that, I’m thrown back six years in time. I’m standing on the edge of a love I’d once believed would last forever.

Except I’m older now. Wiser, too. He’s not the sweet boy he used to be, either.

And forever was a lie.

“Absolutely not”, I choke out. “I’m not doing this.”

I can feel his molten chocolate eyes searing into me as I spin around and stomp out of the room.

Not wanting to frighten Matteo, I head for the garage instead of my bedroom. For one wild second, I pray Dante follows me.

I imagine him grabbing me around the waist with his big, strong hands, pinning me to the wall and trailing a million heated kisses down my neck. I feel my hands gliding through his dark curls as my body presses greedily against him.

Ugh! STOP IT.

I slam the garage door to shock myself out of the sick train of thought. My mind feels like a chaotic windstorm, rattling my thoughts around. I sink onto the cold marble stairs and burst into tears.

The idea of a week with Dante was once my heaven.

Now, it’s my personal hell.