Christmas Vows with the Devil

18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Dante

My fists clench as I watch the chaos unfold around me.

The whole family is in a frenzy, barking orders, calling in extra men, anything that can help us find Matteo. The boy she claims is mine.

I still don’t believe her. How could I? After all these years, she shows up and drops this on me, says I have a son? She’s lying. It’s all part of their game. It has to be.

But then, why does it hurt so much?

I grind my teeth, pacing back and forth outside the estate as I watch them prepare to search the town. The snow is thick on the ground, cold biting through my boots, but it’s nothing compared to the chill in my gut.

My stomach had twisted with dread the moment we found Matteo’s jacket crumpled on the ground. I hated the fear in Gia’s eyes as she looked at me.

Damn it.

I told myself I wouldn’t care. I swore I wouldn’t let this pull me in. Matteo isn’t mine. He can’t be. It’s just another way to get me under their control, to manipulate me.

But I can’t shake the unsettling feelings creeping in. I keep thinking that the kid out there, missing in the freezing cold, is mine.

“Dante.” Gia’s voice cuts through my thoughts. She’s by my side, her face pale, her eyes swollen from crying. She looks like she’s holding on by a thread, barely keeping it together.

I should walk away. This is her mess, not mine. But I can’t. I promised myself I wouldn’t let Gia shatter—not ever again.

“We have to find him,” she says, her voice shaking. “We have to.”

I nod, swallowing down the bitter taste in my mouth. “We will.”

The thought of something happening to Matteo, it’s twisting me up inside in ways I don’t want to admit.

I watch as her family moves out in groups to canvas the small mountain town. It’s isolated up here, cut off from the city. Whoever took Matteo must be nearby.

But who did it? What’s their motive? Something tells me it’s not the Russos this time. Or maybe it hasn’t been them all along.

“Start with the locals,” Uncle Roman calls out. “Someone might’ve seen something. Split up, cover every inch of town.”

My gut tells me this isn’t some random kidnapping. It’s targeted, planned. Matteo was taken for a reason. And if that’s true—he’s in more danger than anyone realizes.

Gia grabs my arm, pulling me closer. Her touch, even now, sends electricity through me, and I hate it. I hate how she still has this power over me. “You’re sure your men are on this?”

“I’ve got them looking into every possible option,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady. “They’ll find something.”

She looks at me like I’m her only hope. It kills me because I want to stay angry—I need to stay angry. If I get involved, if I believe her, then my whole world flips upside down.

But the way she’s looking at me...hell, it’s making me crumble, piece by piece.

“He’s not mine,” I mutter under my breath, as much to myself as to her.

Gia flinches, but she doesn’t argue. “Dante…”

“I’ll help you find him,” I say, cutting her off. “But this doesn’t change anything.”

She nods, but there’s something in her eyes—something broken—that makes me hate myself for saying it. But I have to draw the line somewhere. I can’t let her manipulate me again. I can’t let her make me believe Matteo’s mine just because she’s desperate.

Yet the more I think about it, the harder it is to deny. The kid looks like me. His eyes, the way he frowns when he’s serious, the smile. The pieces are all there, fitting together in a way that makes me sick to my stomach.

No. I can’t go down that road. I can’t let myself believe it.

With the family out on the hunt, the estate feels quiet, like it’s holding its breath, waiting for the worst.

“Dante,” Uncle Tony calls out from the door. “Get in here for a second.”

I nod at Gia, giving her one last look before heading inside. She’s watching me, her eyes filled with something that feels too much like hope. Hope that I’m not ready to give her.

Inside, Tony pulls me aside. “You sure about this? You’ve got your own problems back in New York. You don’t have to get tangled up in our family business.”

He’s right. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t care.

But I do.

“I’ll handle New York later,” I say, my voice harder than I feel. “Right now, we need to find Matteo.”

Tony studies me for a second, like he’s trying to figure out my angle. “We appreciate it, Dante. Gia needs you.”

Those words hit harder than they should. Gia needs me. Matteo needs me.

The fact that I want to be needed—that scares the hell out of me.

I grab my jacket, checking for my car keys in the pocket, and jog back to where Gia stands, still stunned. Tears are slowly streaming from her eyes as she clutches Matteo’s jacket. I guide her to my SUV and gently usher her inside.

We zoom down the drive, headed to town. The winding roads are empty in the darkness of Christmas Eve. Local families are hunkered down, waiting for Santa, while we search for a lost little boy.

The dark streets of the tiny town are deserted, ghostly in their festive decor. Only the Vitale family isn’t going to let them stay quiet, knocking on doors, searching alleys. Gia cries silently beside me in the passenger seat and frustration surges through me.

Hours pass, and the search feels like it’s getting us nowhere. No one’s seen anything, no one has any clues. It’s like Matteo vanished into thin air.

Anger is building inside me, and I can feel myself slipping. This whole situation is a mess. I’m supposed to be back in New York, dealing with the attacks on my men.

Instead, I’m pacing the eerie street where we’ve met back up to touch base. My breath fogs in the freezing air but my body is on fire with worry. That’s when I hear them. Gia’s aunts.

I’ve been avoiding them all night, not wanting to get tangled up in their gossip. But now, their voices float toward me from where they huddle in a storefront doorway.

“You think Dante really cares about this?” one of them asks, her voice low.

“He seems invested enough,” the other one says. “Matteo is his son, after all.”

“Poor Gia, though. Can you imagine having a child with such a dangerous man? I admit he’s handsome as sin, but that alone isn’t enough to make him a good husband or father.”

I stop in my tracks, my heart thudding in my chest.

The rage that’s been simmering inside me bursts to the surface. I want to confront them, tell them I will make an excellent father, that I’m fully invested in this search to find Matteo. Instead, I turn and walk away, my mind racing.

Matteo is my son. This isn’t a game.

It all makes sense, really. Everyone seems to know about my son but me. Some rival organization has likely figured out that he’s mine. Otherwise, why would someone kidnap him?

A wave of anger crashes over me, but underneath it, there’s something else. Something softer. Something I don’t want to feel.

I care more than I should.

I want him to be mine for real. I want a future where Me, Gia, and Matteo—we’re a family.

I march back toward the group of Vitale men who are gathered under a streetlight. The snow crunches under my boots, my mind spinning with what I’m going to do next. Gia might have lied to me, kept my son from me, but none of that matters right now.

All that matters is finding him.

Just as I tap Giancarlo’s shoulder, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and we both glance down at the screen. My blood runs cold.

It’s a grainy shot of a little boy being led into a black sedan. Two men, their faces obscured by shadows, follow behind him. In the distance stands a rustic wooden cabin, its doors and windows shuttered.

One of our guys got the shot. Tried to follow the car but was run off the road. He’s still in upstate New York, about an hour from you. The accompanying text from Rocco doesn’t give me much, but at least we know Matteo is still close—and alive.

Giancarlo grabs the phone out of my hands, studying the photograph closely.

“Gia!” he hollers. “Get over here! We’ve got a lead!”

In seconds, Gia is elbowing me out of the way, pawing at the phone. She breaks down in tears, nodding.

“That’s him,” she chokes out between sobs. “That’s definitely him. We need to go.”

It could be a trap. Hell, it probably is. But what choice do we have? This is the first real lead we’ve gotten all night.

Gia is hysterical and determined, as only a mother one step closer to finding her child can be. She glances at me, her eyes pleading.

“That looks like Tom Myrtle’s cabin down by Moose Lake,” says Roman, zooming in on the photo. “I don’t know for sure, but it looks very similar.”

“How far is it?”

“About thirty minutes in good weather,” Giancarlo cuts in, eyeing the flurry of snowflakes starting to surround us.

“We can’t just walk in there without a plan,” Uncle Leo protests. “What if it’s a setup?”

I gaze down at Gia, her raven hair and thick eyelashes coated by the softly falling snow. She has tear-streaked cheeks and puffy eyes, and she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.

And she’s mine. She’s my past. My future. My everything.

Her body is buzzing with nervous energy, and I catch her eyeing my car keys like she’s one moment away from swiping them and driving off herself. I nod, decision made.

“Giancarlo,” I turn to her father. “Get your men set up with eyes on the roads leading to New York. This doesn’t seem like a small-town kidnapping. I’m betting they’re taking him to the city.”

“The rest of the family,” I continue. “Head back home, wait for information. I’m going to the cabin.”

Protests rise up around me, but I block them out, my eyes focused on Gia. She’s staring up at me with a mix of admiration and hope.

A look worth dying for.

Uncle Leo clears his throat, elbowing his way closer to me. “Kid, this is nice and heroic and all, but you can’t walk in there alone.”

“Better than the entire Vitale family busting in and getting shot at,” I retort. “Besides, according to my men, they left the cabin. I’ll be fine. I just want to see if I can find tire tracks to follow them to their next location.”

“We’ll head straight to New York,” says Roman, gesturing to the men. “If you think that’s where they’re going, that is.”

Everyone disperses, running towards waiting cars. I figure Gia will follow her aunts, but she falls into step with me, marching to my SUV with determination.

“Gia…”

“No!” She spins around, almost losing her balance in the snow. “Don’t even start. I’m coming with you. You can either shut up and accept it or fight me every step of the way.”

I should say no. I should tell her to stay here, where it’s safe. But the look in her eyes tells me it’s useless to argue.

This damn woman. I just want to keep her safe, and she keeps throwing herself into every dangerous situation she can.

“Fine,” I say, unlocking the doors. “Let’s go.”

We drive down the single road out of town, heading toward an unknown destination. I glance nervously at Gia beside me. Her eyes are trained on the road ahead, her rosy lips set in a grim line.

She looks like determination personified. And strength and persistence.

All words I would describe Gia Vitale, the woman I’ve loved my entire life.

She turns then, blessing me with a soft, warm smile, and I melt inside the chilly vehicle.

This is the woman I’ll risk my life for. Die for, if I have to. Why has it taken me so long to admit this to myself?