Christmas Vows with the Devil

23. Chapter Tweny-Three

Chapter Tweny-Three

Gia

“Oznam Enterprises,” Rocco sneers, tossing his phone on the rich mahogany desk.

Dante paces the length of his office, illuminated by the twilight and sliver of moon that hangs over the city.

I glance at my father as he shakes his head in wonder. “How did no one catch that before?

Oznam Enterprises. John Manzo’s secret operation. It’s so simple, so stupid. Manzo, but backward.

Rocco got the text earlier this evening and gathered the key members of the Vitale family in Dante’s office. We’re still wary of Dante’s men after his father’s cryptic message—better to keep inside information to a select few people.

“You have the location, Roman?”

My uncle is hunched over a laptop, pulling up maps and databases. Excitement runs through the room. We’re getting closer and closer to finding John Manzo. We’re getting close to Matteo.

“They have a few legitimate offices,” Uncle Roman explains, pointing to his screen. “But that’s not what we want.”

I watch him make a few calls, punch more words into the database. Meanwhile, Dante continues to pace. His face is stormy, rage flashing behind his eyes.

“Got it!” Uncle Roman announces suddenly. He pulls up an image of a dilapidated-looking warehouse in Queens. Looking at the building, no one would ever think it’s still functional. The roof is partly caving in, the windows boarded up.

It’s the perfect place to hide what you don’t want people to see.

Finally, my father speaks, his voice low. “We need to approach carefully, as if he already knows each move.”

His tone is grim, and though he doesn’t say it outright, I know he’s worried. We’re all out of our depth with a man like Dante’s father—someone who’s faked his own death, someone who’s likely steps ahead of us even now.

Roman nods, tapping the image in front of him. “It’s a likely hideout based on the intel we have. It’s remote but guarded, and we’ll need to get in and out without tipping anyone off.” He pauses, his jaw tight, his eyes centered on me. “We have no idea what we’ll find.”

The room falls silent, each of us turning inward, preparing for the worst. Dante’s gaze drifts back to mine, a flash of worry in his dark eyes. There’s a question there, one I don’t want to answer right now, about whether I’m ready to face the danger tomorrow brings.

But he doesn’t need to ask. I’m ready to do whatever it takes.

As the family disperses to their rooms, I linger, not yet ready to leave Dante’s side. He finishes up the last notes with Uncle Roman and Rocco before glancing my way.

When we’re alone, he walks over, taking me in his arms. His expression is softer now, as though he’s let go of the steely resolve he displays in front of everyone else.

“Are you all right?”

I nod, but there’s no hiding the anxiety building in my chest. “It’s just…a lot. All of this.”

He reaches out to brush a loose strand of hair from my face. His touch is gentle, a quiet comfort. “We’ll get through it, Gia.”

But there’s a hesitation in his eyes, and I know he’s worried, too. About Matteo. About his father. About the lengths we’re all willing to go to tomorrow.

We fall silent, neither of us wanting to say what we’re truly thinking. There’s a chance, a very real one, that tomorrow could go wrong. That either of us could end up hurt or worse.

But Dante pulls me closer, his hand resting at the small of my back as though grounding himself. He leans down, his forehead resting against mine. “You’re all I care about, Gia. You and Matteo. That’s it.”

The sincerity in his voice sends a shiver through me. I take a shaky breath, feeling the weight of his words, the promise there. We’re standing on the edge of something.

I want to tell him everything I feel, how much he means to me, but the words stick in my throat. Instead, I tip my face up to his and steal a light kiss. We’ve been so busy running, plotting, and worrying that we haven’t even faced whatever this is—whatever we are now.

Dante scoops me up and sits me on his desk, brushing away maps and photographs. He’s standing between my thighs and we are staring at each other—memorizing every tiny detail. His thumbs gently stroke across my eyebrows, down to my cheekbones, and skirt over my lips.

The breath I’ve been holding threatens to escape my lips, but he kisses me, stealing it. I run my fingers through his wild dark curls, pulling him closer. And then we’re lost in each other, in the feeling of familiar hands and lips meeting. Of memories of the past and visions of the future.

He traces the curve of my breast over my thin sweater, stretching the collar to cover my neck with soft kisses. He’s being too gentle, like I’m fragile. Like I’m about to break.

“Stop.”

He freezes, his breath coming in hard, his eyes glazed over. “I’m sorry Gia, I couldn’t help myself.”

“No,” I say, frustration creeping into my voice. “Stop treating me like I’m made of glass.”

He’s confused, his hand still stroking my hair softly. “I…I don’t think that…”

I lean in closer, pressing my forehead against his eyes. My eyes are on fire, my body too. I squirm on the desk, my pussy soaked and desperate for him.

“Fuck me, Dante,” I beg, throwing any ladylike decorum aside. “And not like I’m about to shatter. I want to feel it. I can handle it.”

His hand stills in my hair, his breath catching in his throat. Those chocolate pools of fire staring at me go up in flames as he trails his gaze from my eyes to my mouth. A devilish smile plays on his lips and he chuckles.

“Be careful what you ask for, Gia.”

Slowly, he peels my sweater off, tossing it casually across the room. My leggings follow and I’m naked in the soft moonlight, sitting on Dante’s desk. He paces quietly in front of me like a wolf, his hungry gaze setting me on fire.

I almost pass out from anticipation when he kneels before me, spreading my thighs, and gazes up at me. I lean down, pressing a kiss on his forehead, and slip my fingers into his hair. The moon casts shadows across his face, making him look both sinister and handsome.

He licks his lips and gently pushes me down, spreading me across his desk. My hips fly up the second I feel a rough bite on my inner thigh and I know I’m done for. Dante’s going to tease the fuck out of me.

He continues up my right thigh, licking, biting, kissing. I feel his breath ghost over my pussy, and I thrust up, so desperate for his tongue but he smirks and moves to my left thigh, licking, biting, and kissing down to my knee.

I huff in frustration, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Oh, did I miss something?”

“Dante, I swear…”

“Why don’t you tell me exactly what you want?” he says, rising and slowly unbuttoning his shirt. I gaze in reverence as his tattooed arms glow in the moonlight. He unzips his pants, letting them fall to the floor.

“I want you…” I falter.

“How?”

“I don’t know.” Desperation and frustration make my voice climb higher. I’ve always been shy when it came to giving him instructions. He used to revel in my shyness, trying to coax me out of it, to be explicit.

“Well,” he says, his voice low, dark. “Why don’t you think about it while you’re on your knees?”

Entirely too enthusiastically, I clamber down from the desk and drop to my knees in front of him. He’s hard when I grab ahold of him, ready for me. I stroke him slowly, looking up to meet his eyes. He sways, love-drunk, threading his fingers into my hair.

I lick up his length, holding his gaze and he groans, tossing his head back. The room, heavy with the smells of cigar smoke and spicy whisky, spins as I take him into my mouth. The feel of him, the taste of him, it’s so heady—like a potent drug I haven’t touched in years.

I worship him on my knees, licking and sucking, taking him as far as I can. His moans fill the room, his body thrusting involuntarily. Suddenly, he pulls out of my mouth, grabbing me around the waist. He spins me around, bending me over his desk.

My fingers glide across it to grip the other side, my cheek pressed against the smooth wood. A flash of pain sears through me as Dante’s strong hand slaps my ass, followed by a gust of pleasure as he kisses it lightly. And then, he’s pushing inside me.

I’m so turned on that I’m barely hanging by a thread, already floating towards my orgasm. He’s thrusting hard, pushing deeper and deeper. I moan, the sound muffled by my heavy hair. He brushes my hair aside, pressing himself close to me as he continues to thrust.

“Let me hear you moan, Gia.” His voice is rough, wild. I let go, giving him what he wants. Another heavy-handed slap on my ass sends me into another dimension and I whisper his name like a promise.

“Dante, Dante, Dante, please.” I’m so close, and yet, I never want this to end.

“I love you, Gia.” Dante’s breathless whisper echoes in my ear, sending me to the edge. I reach my climax, shivering and shaking underneath him.

“I love you too, Dante.” I whisper as he explodes inside of me. He falls on top of me, pinning me to the desk. His heavy breath like a drum beat against my skin. The crushing feeling of his body feels like home, like where I want to be for the rest of my life.

And just like that, I realize that it’s true. I love him. I loved him six years ago, I loved him when he broke my heart, and I love him now.

He trails a line of kisses tenderly down my spine, pulling me up to stand with my back pressed against him. The moonlight streams in, casting a filmy haze on our intertwined forms. He bends, kissing behind my ear.

“When this is all over,” he says softly, “and we have our boy back…I’m going to ask you a question. And I really hope you say yes.”