Christmas Vows with the Devil

7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Gia

I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at the ghost in the reflection.

Last night shook me to my core. My skin is too pale and dark circles ring my eyes.

I didn’t sleep a single second after I ran back to bed. Last night’s run-in with Dante played on repeat in my mind.

I can still feel the heat radiating from his body. His gaze had felt like a touch, igniting something deep inside me that I thought I had buried.

No. I can’t let this happen.

Matteo deserves a life away from all this chaos. Away from the mafia. The lifestyle I’ve fought so hard to keep him from.

I vowed to give him freedom and safety. I want him to have everything I didn’t have.

But Dante complicates everything.

The way he looked at me—touched me— shakes me. I have to keep my distance. It would put everything at risk if he discovers the truth about Matteo. I shudder at the thought.

But how could he not know? Matteo is like a carbon copy of him, right down to his chocolate eyes and crooked smile.

I splash cold water on my face, trying to wash away the anxiety. But I can’t rinse away the lingering memories of last night.

You’ve got this, Gia . You’ve been through worse. Just get through this week and get out.

I just want to go back to the flower shop, Frank and Julie, and my quiet little life.

I slink downstairs, praying Matteo is busy building a snowmen army with Vitto instead of finding out who his father is.

The festive spirit vibrates through the house but I’m not in the mood. My aunts are already up, bustling about the kitchen. They’re in full holiday mode, preparing for the extravagant Christmas Eve party.

“Gia!” Aunt Carla’s voice cuts through the clatter of pots and pans. “Come help us with the baking!”

I force a smile, pushing my worries aside.

The kitchen is alive with color and chaos. Red and green streamers sit in a tangled heap, ready to be sorted. The smell of cinnamon wafts through the air, ticking my nose and stirring up my hunger.

I can’t help but feel a pang of guilt. While the family is busy planning this celebration, I’m holding onto secrets.

“Matteo’s gonna love this!” Aunt Lucia says, her eyes sparkling.

She’s always been the optimistic one—a beacon of light amid the shadows of our family.

“Where is Matteo?” I ask casually, hiding my instant panic at not knowing where my own child is.

“He went sledding with some of the cousins,” Lucia explains, pushing a mixing bowl into my arms.

I release an anxious breath. He’s safe with his family. We’re safe. I hope.

“Everyone else hit the slopes early this morning,” Aunt Carla adds brightly. “You look like you needed the rest though.”

I sigh, acknowledging my puffy raccoon eyes, and stir the gingerbread dough dutifully. I let my gaze wander over to the fluffy snowflakes dancing outside the window as the aunts chatter.

“Do you think he knows?” Carla’s voice cuts into my daydreams.

“Carla,” warns Aunt Lucia, casting me a sidelong glance. “I don’t think she wants to talk about this.”

“What? Who?” I’m genuinely confused. Did I miss that much of the conversation? I slide the mixing bowl over to Aunt Carla and busy myself with the tangled streamers.

“Dante. Do you think he knows?”

I glance sharply at Carla.

“About Matteo, I mean.”

“No, Aunt Carla,” I face her, a hard look stealing into my eyes. “And you need to watch your words—and your volume.”

I glance nervously toward the entrance to the kitchen, half-expecting Dante to be eavesdropping by the door. Shaking the deranged thought out of my head, I grab the jumble of streamers and head to the living room.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

I walk into the living room only to find the devil himself. Dante glances up from his laptop, fixing those intense cocoa eyes on me.

I’m trapped.

I can’t walk out without looking insane, so I tentatively plop down on the sofa with my streamers. I feel his intense gaze studying me, sliding all over me.

“Need some help?”

The laptop clicks shut and heavy footsteps make their way over to me. Every step echoes my beating heart.

“It’s fine.” I aim for nonchalance with my tone. “You seem busy.”

He sits on the opposite end of the sofa and grabs a handful of streamers.

“Where did everyone disappear to today? I only found your aunts in the kitchen.”

“Most of the family went skiing,” I explain, focusing all of my attention on the task at hand. “Matteo went sledding with some of the cousins.”

“Matteo.”

His tone forces me to look up and meet the gaze I’ve been avoiding. I can almost see the wheels turning in his mind.

“Are you and Matteo’s father still together?”

I snort. “No. Absolutely not.”

We stare at each other, so many unspoken words and emotions passing between us.

I should have come up with some sort of lie.

“And how old is Matteo?” His tone is relaxed. Light. Like he’s not doing the math and coming up with the same undesirable answer every time.

Lie, Gia. Lie, dammit.

“He’s…” I hesitate.

“Oh, there you are!” Aunt Carla’s shrill voice cuts in.

I shoot off the sofa, thanking my lucky stars for Aunt Carla’s existence at this very moment.

“Gia, I need a favor.” She pads over to me, eyeing Dante knowingly. He’s busy bundling up a length of red streamers, studiously keeping his gaze on the hardwood floor.

“Anything.” I mean it, too. I’d rather amputate my own arm than continue that conversation.

“We’re missing quite a lot of ingredients and supplies from our list,” she explains. “Lucia’s fault, not mine, of course.”

“Of course,” I answer graciously.

“Well, you know my little convertible can’t handle the snow, and neither can my eyesight.”

Dante and I both smile politely as she laughs to herself.

Perfect. An excuse to get the hell out of this house for a few hours.

“I’ll go!” I jump in, eager to get away. “It’s no problem.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Gia. Thank you.”

I start to gather the streamers I dropped in my haste to get away, piling them on the sofa. Dante can amuse himself with that shitty task, thank you very much.

“You know…” Aunt Carla begins and I immediately stiffen. I know that tone.

She’s got something up her sleeve and it’s not going to work out in my favor.

“The snow is really coming down out there. I’d feel much safer if you weren’t driving around alone.”

No.

“Dante, dear?”

God, no.

The false note in her voice makes me cringe.

Don’t say it.

“Why don’t you and Gia head out together? Your vehicle looks sturdy enough to handle the snow.”

Dante is the first to speak. “Of course. I’ll meet you outside in a few minutes.”

I stare angrily at Aunt Carla as she winks at me.

“Great! Gia, come along. I’ll write out a list for you two.”

I trail after Carla, shooting daggers at her back the entire time. I know I’m acting like a sullen teenager but really—the meddling old ladies need to give it a rest.

Aunt Lucia shoots me an apologetic glance as we walk in. “For the record, I told her not to do it.”

“But we really do need these items!” Carla protests. “And I really do feel safer if you’re not driving around alone!”

“And?”

“And he’s Matteo’s father! Don’t you think it’s time you put your little teenage breakup behind you?”

There it was. The real reason.

“Listen to me.” I level my gaze, sweeping from Carla to Lucia. “I know you mean well—I do. But I’m Matteo’s mother and I decide what’s best for him…and that’s not having Dante or the Manzos anywhere near him.”

Carla nods and shifts her attention to the list. Aunt Lucia hums quietly, bustling around the kitchen. The tension is thick. Awkward.

But I said what I needed to say.

I trudge through the lodge with the list in hand, every step bringing me closer to a full day alone with Dante.

My body tries to intervene and I trip in my impractical heeled boots. Steadying myself, I take a deep breath, pull on my jacket, and step outside.

The crisp winter air hits me hard, tiny snowflakes pelting my face. A soft, glittering blanket of snow covers the ground as far as the eye can see. The world feels both serene and suffocating at the same time.

And there he is.

Dante stands by the edge of the porch, gazing out into the distance and twirling his keys.

He looks handsome, rugged, and impossibly distant.

My heart races, a mix of emotions swirling within me. The man I loved six years ago turns his head and gives me a tentative crooked smile. It’s the same boyish smile that made me fall for him all those years ago.

Get a hold of yourself, Gia.

He’s not the boy you loved anymore. He’s Il Diavolo now. He’s feared by everyone. He can’t love you, and he certainly can’t be a good father.

But what if he still does love me? What if all that love and softness is buried deep inside him, waiting to be awoken once again?

What if my child is missing out on the chance to have his father in his life, all because I’m stubborn and scared?