Christmas Vows with the Devil

14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Dante

She left.

I saw her leave, felt her steal out of bed in the early hours of the morning. I don’t know what I was expecting. But I gave her the grace to make her escape, pretending to be in a deep sleep.

Somehow, the combination of painkillers and last night’s activities lulled me back into jumbled dreams. Now, the sun shines through the open curtains, reflecting off the snow and blinding me. I check my phone, shocked that it’s past lunchtime.

The thought of Carla barging into a room reeking of sex and Gia makes me shudder, so I hastily throw on some clothes and head to the kitchen. I’m surprised to find it completely empty, but I pour myself a tepid cup of coffee and step out the back door.

The morning air bites at my skin, helping me shake off the haze from last night. The house is quiet, unusually so for a family like the Vitales. Normally, there’s noise—constant chaos, chatter, movement. But today, something feels off.

I spot Matteo’s toy car near the kitchen and smile to myself. That kid, he’s something special. Part of me can’t help but feel drawn to him. It’s a strange connection I can’t explain, but it’s there.

Shaking my head, I try to focus on something else, anything else, but Gia keeps creeping into my thoughts.

What the hell was last night? A one-time thing to tie up loose ends? Or was it the beginning of something new—something stronger than teenage puppy love?

The way she looked at me, the way her body felt so familiar in my arms again, it was like no time had passed. But I know I can’t get sucked back into all of that.

Not now. Not with everything at stake. Still, I can’t deny it any longer—I need her. I want her. There’s no use pretending anymore.

I scan the house while sipping my coffee. From the kitchen door, I have a clear view of the entire grounds, along with the stables, garage, and greenhouse.

Strange—it’s like the entire Vitale family disappeared overnight. A hard knot forms in my gut.

Is this a setup? What’s happening here?

My hand instinctively reaches for the holster for my gun, and panic shoots through me as I realize I left it upstairs. I grab my phone instead, checking for missed calls or emergency texts. Nothing.

Just as I’m about to walk back inside, Uncle Roman’s voice rings out from the grove of pines behind the garage.

“Dante!”

I almost instinctively drop to the ground. The last time Roman yelled my name in warning, I was shot. I quickly scan the perimeter, and finding no sign of imminent danger, head toward Roman.

“It’s Gia!” he yells as I get closer. He’s panting, his hair wild. “You haven’t seen her, have you?”

Immediately my blood runs cold. Gia’s missing. Because of me.

I pick up my pace as much as my bullet wound will let me. When I reach Roman, he’s got his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath as well.

“She’s gone?”

“She told Carla,” he starts, stopping to inhale deeply, “that she was going for a walk…hours ago. Haven’t seen her since.”

“You tried calling her?”

“Of course.” He shoots me a look like it’s my first day on Earth. “Her phone’s on her nightstand.”

Panic rises in my throat. My hands instinctively search for my phone to call her myself—not that I have her number, but I’m not thinking clearly right now.

“We didn’t wake you because we figured you need the rest, but… “ He trails off, waving his hands vaguely. “The whole family is searching the property. So far no sign of tracks or anything to tell us where she went.”

I glance down, noticing the slushy mess at our feet. Gia’s a tough girl, but she hates getting wet. Rain, slush, all of it bothers her. She wouldn’t be traipsing around in this.

“Maybe she went for a drive?” I suggest, already heading for the garage. Roman jogs to keep up with me. We pull open the garage doors to find a chaotic cluster of cars, all parked haphazardly at odd angles to fit into the space.

“Her car is in the back corner,” Roman points out. Shit. Well, there goes that idea.

“Wait…” He’s got his eyes set on the far end of the garage. A tarp lays on the ground next to a suspiciously empty space. “The Mustang. She wouldn’t.”

We slip around all the cars, reaching the empty space. Roman pulls out his phone. Why would she take her dad’s Mustang? It’s her father’s most prized possession. Everyone knows the car belongs to Giancarlo, and no one touches that car.

I glance at Roman, his face tight with worry, phone pressed between his cheek and shoulder. “Giancarlo? She took the Mustang.”

He wanders out of the garage as I stare stupidly at the tarp on the floor. A fucking Mustang in this weather? What the hell is she thinking?

“She's a fool,” Giancarlo mutters, as I step outside to join the quickly assembling family members. “I left the keys in the usual spot. They’re gone?”

Roman nods. The family falls silent, no doubt imagining the consequences of driving a vintage Mustang through snow, slush, and ice down the serpentine roads.

“We need to form a search party,” I say, already patting my jacket pockets for my car keys.

“Elizabeth,” Giancarlo barks, grabbing his wife’s hand. “Get the kids inside and stay by the phone in case there’s news. Everyone else, get your cars out and split up.”

People chime in with potential routes Gia might have taken and slowly disperse to form the search party. I’m in my car in seconds, thanking past me for parking outside.

“I’ll head down toward town,” I shout as I start down the driveway, already driving too fast. A light layer of snow covers the slushy driveway, but I spot tire tracks turning left. I follow them, praying they’ll lead me to Gia.

The winding road to town is in pretty bad condition, and I can’t imagine Gia navigating it very well. She always hated driving almost as much as she hated having wet feet. I keep my eyes trained on the tracks, scanning the guardrails and dense forest whenever I lose them.

She must be somewhere around here. She has to be alive.

Maybe she innocently drove herself to town to get a coffee and lost track of time. But deep in my gut, I feel like something’s wrong. She’s hurt, wherever she is.

After a few minutes of aimlessly driving down the empty road, I spot the tracks again, but this time, they’re veering in every direction. I slow the car, creeping down the steep decline, following the chaotic tracks.

Then I spot it. A broken guardrail.

My heart beats wildly, threatening to leap from my chest. I pull up right beside it, shooting a quick text off to the group chat one of the aunts added me to.

I freeze for just a second, willing myself to move, but terrified of what I’ll find beyond the cliff. Realizing I’m wasting precious time, I shoot out of the warmth of my car into the frigid wind and cold. I stop at the guardrail, scanning the field below.

It’s white as far as I can see, covered in a thick blanket of fine snow. She has to be down there. I don’t know how, but I know she is. My soul feels like it’s being pulled down the cliff, so my body follows, slipping and sliding through rocky snow.

I feel my stitches split open and curse, but I keep going. When I reach the bottom, I’m panting and clutching my side, but my eyes are scanning the field. Clumps of trees sway in the wind, and the sunlight bounces off the snow, blinding me and playing tricks on my eyes.

I almost miss it, mistaking it for a reflection. But no, a few feet away is a blinking orange light, buried deep in the snow. I rub my eyes to make sure I’m not insane. The mound of snow itself almost looks like it’s moving.

“Gia!” I yell, running to the blinking hazard light. “Gia, are you here?”

The mound stops moving for a second, and a muffled call gets lost in the snow.

“Gia, wait, I’m coming!”

The mound begins moving again. I’m limping toward the taillight now, out of breath, clutching the wretched stitches in my side.

Suddenly, pale fingers pop out of the mound. I instantly recognize the blood-red nails as hers. A heady flashback thrusts me back to last night when those same nails were clearly visible as she wrapped her hand around my cock.

I grab her fingers, squeezing tight three times. It’s our little silent I love you from when we were kids. The hand stills for a second and then starts digging wildly. I’m on my hands and knees in the snowbank, shoveling snow away from her hand.

Slowly, a delicate wrist appears. Then a flash of black nylon. I grab her arm, yanking hard, pulling her out of hell and into my arms. She collapses on top of me, gasping for breath.

I roll her off to check every inch of her body for injuries. She has a nasty cut on her forehead and across her cheekbone but other than that, everything seems to be in the proper place.

“Gia, what the hell happened? What were you thinking? Talk to me!”

I’m yelling like a madman, and she’s still trying to catch her breath, coughing and panting.

“You took your dad’s Mustang? In this goddamn weather?” I yell, frustrated and terrified that I almost lost her. “Were you that desperate to get away from me?”

She sits up slowly, taking deep inhales and blinking to focus her eyes again. I know I should calm down, ask her if she’s hurt anywhere, but I can’t.

The horror swirling in my stomach when I saw the broken guardrail pushes me to lash out.

She could have died. She almost died trying to run from me .

“Talk to me, Gia!”

“Would you shut up for a second?” she chokes out. “You just pulled me from a snowy fucking grave. Let me catch my breath, will you?”

I sit beside her, rubbing her back through the thin nylon jacket, feeling like an asshole. Of course, she must be terrified. But patience has never been my strong suit.

“What happened?” I try to soften my tone.

“There was a deer,” she finally answers.

“What the hell? You almost died because of a damn deer?” Rage hits me hard again. “Just hit the damn thing, Gia. There’s no need to swerve off the road.”

She stands in a huff, stalking away from me. I get up less gracefully, putting pressure on my torso to relieve the pain, and follow her.

“Where are you going?”

She whirls around, anger making her fairy eyes sparkle in the bright sunshine. I stop short of crashing into her and glare back.

“You think I’m stupid?” she yells back, getting in my face. “You think I’m down here because of a deer?”

I must look confused because she shakes her head and throws her hands up in the air.

“The brakes, Dante.” She glares at me, but her face falls, and tears stream down her cheeks. “Someone cut the brakes.”

Shit. That’s the last thing I expected.

“Gia! Dante!” Giancarlo’s booming voice rings out above us. We both spin to face the cliffside and find it teeming with Vitale family members. “Stay there! The fire department is coming to get you up.”

We nod, shivering in the bitter cold and wind. There’s no way in hell either of us is climbing back up the embankment without help. I spot Gia rubbing her hands together, her flimsy jacket doing little to keep her warm.

Without hesitation, I pull her into my arms, cradling her head against my shoulder. She feels like she’s made from ice—frozen, delicate, ready to shatter. But I won’t let that happen.

I’ll fight to my death to make sure Gia Vitale doesn’t shatter ever again.