Christmas Vows with the Devil

30. Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

Dante

“And we’re supposed to just trust them?”

“At this point, they’re the only ones we can trust,” Giancarlo tells me darkly.

I grit my teeth, keeping my voice steady. “Where’s the logic in that?”

Uncle Roman sighs, glancing up from the laptop where he’s sifting through surveillance footage of warehouses. “We contacted some old…friends, you could say. Looking for information, you know? No one’s willing to even talk about John. No one.”

“No one wants to get involved,” Giancarlo confirms. “Except the Russos.”

“And why is that? What’s their angle here?”

We’re crammed into my study, Vitale men seated on every possible surface. Rocco paces back and forth past the closed door, deep in thought. The air is thick, everyone’s nerves close to fraying, and a sense of hopelessness hangs over us.

Gia finally speaks up. “Your father was working with them a while back…”

She pauses, glancing at her own father. He stares out the window, a grim look on his face. I disguise my chuckle with a strategic cough. Clearly, Gia has been more involved in the negotiations than her father would like.

My stubborn, ballsy, little fighter.

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes, and continues. “He hired them to mess with your cargo. You got revenge. They decided it wasn’t worth the risk and refused to continue the partnership. He didn’t like that, I guess, because he’s blackmailing them.”

She spits out the entire story, stops for a breath, and hastily sits down in my leather chair. “They want him gone as much as we do.”

I mull this new development over, spinning it around in my mind, looking for holes. It would make sense for the Russos to want to remove him, and as far as I know, we’re even, so they have no ill will toward me.

For once, the Vitales and I are on the same side. But this alliance with the Russos, the only move we’ve got left to take down my father, feels like walking into the lion’s den with a blindfold on.

I’m letting too many people in. I’m relying more and more on others to keep me and mine protected, and it’s making me feel powerless.

“They have every reason to want your father gone,” Giancarlo finally continues. “Your father is coming at them with a vengeance. The Russos are pretty desperate, having no connections or alliances in the city yet.”

I stay silent, unwilling to give him any sense of agreement yet. The Russos are new here and I don’t know what they’re playing at, but if they’re as desperate as he says, they may be our only chance.

“The plan is to keep John’s attention on us. We’re making it known that we’re back in New York and looking for him,” Roman jumps in. “We’ll have him thinking that we’re gathering a force to go after him. Meanwhile, the Russos will ambush him with our support in the shadows.”

I nod, the gears turning in my mind. “We make him think it’s only the Vitales coming after him. He’ll be on guard for you, not the Russos.”

“Exactly,” Giancarlo says, nodding. “Your father has no reason to suspect their involvement. It gives us the upper hand.”

Just as I’m about to respond, my phone buzzes, and I pull it out of my pocket. Unknown number. My grip tightens, jaw clenching as I open it, already feeling the chill of whatever he has to say.

Time is ticking, dear boy.

His words feel like poison seeping through me, clouding every thought. I immediately hit the call-back button but the number is already disconnected. I hand the phone to Giancarlo instead of hurling it at the wall and he reads it with a darkening expression.

“He’s just playing his fucking games,” I say, bitterness lacing my tone. I told them about the ultimatum earlier and everyone agreed it was best to put off my response until we had a plan in place.

Giancarlo’s face hardens. “It’s more than a game, Dante. If we don’t take him down now, he’ll tear apart both our families.”

I know he’s right. My father’s been orchestrating chaos in both our lives for years, pulling strings from the shadows. Now it’s time for me to cut those strings once and for all.

“Call in Russo,” I say, my mind made up. “I want to talk to him.”

***

The Russos must have been waiting for the call because an hour later, Pietro Russo and a small crew stroll into my penthouse.

“We finally meet, Russo,” I say, rising from the leather sofa, and saunter toward him.

“ Il Diavolo himself.” He grins, extending his hand eagerly. He’s young, scrappy-looking, charismatic—exactly the kind of man I imagined him to be. We shake hands and I start to warm to him in spite of myself.

“Drink?”

“Business,” he answers, his charming smile giving way to a hard look of determination. I gesture for him and his men to join us and they arrange themselves around the living room. I glance around, shocked at the change in myself.

A week ago, I never would have even entertained the idea of hosting a room full of Vitales and Russos. And now, here I am, working with them. Gia’s eyes and soft smile pull my attention across the room like a beacon and I know it’s all because of her.

I’m mending the fences my father destroyed, just for her. To become a better man, a better father.

“We’re all here for one reason,” Russo starts, his voice smooth like a game show host. “John Manzo has pushed things too far, even for us. We’ve lost more than just assets because of him. He’s made this personal, and I don’t take that lightly.”

“Good to hear,” I say, my gaze never leaving his. “But if you’re serious about this, you should know there’s no room for hesitation. The moment he gets wind of what we’re planning, he’ll come down on us all.”

Russo’s expression darkens. “That’s exactly why we’re doing this my way. We’ll strike hard and fast. You Vitales distract him long enough for us to catch him off guard and I’ll pull the trigger myself.”

I chuckle darkly, meeting his eyes. “I’d like to do the honors if you don’t mind.”

Giancarlo’s phone starts beeping much too loudly, interrupting everyone’s focus. He fumbles in his jacket pocket, trying to find it. “Sorry, sorry…this damn phone.”

Finally, he pulls it out and glances at the screen. His face turns pale as he watches the video. I feel the blood drain from my own face when I hear Matteo’s little voice.

“Mommy!”

We all rush toward Giancarlo, elbowing our way in to catch a glimpse of the screen. It’s Matteo’s face illuminated by a dim, flickering light. He’s sitting alone, looking small and terrified in the darkness. His eyes are red from crying, his voice shaky as he calls for Gia.

Giancarlo’s expression hardens as he looks up. “This is a warning,” he says, his voice laced with quiet rage. “John knows we’re coming for him, and he’s using Matteo to try to scare us off.”

I can barely hold back the fury, the urge to tear down every wall between me and my son. I glance helplessly around the room, spotting Gia and pulling her into my arms.

She’s not crying, but her face is pale, her mouth in a grim line. She leans into my embrace, letting me hold her just a little too tight.

“He has no idea about the Russos,” she says, her voice low but determined as she steps up beside me. “He thinks it’s only us coming for him. That’s the only advantage we have.”

Russo lays out the details, explaining his plan more clearly. As he speaks, I feel Gia’s hand slip into mine, her touch grounding me, reminding me of the stakes.

I’m not just fighting for myself—I’m fighting for them—for the life I want with Gia and Matteo.

Once the Russos leave to prepare, Giancarlo glances around the room, his gaze landing on each of us in turn. “We have one shot at this. One shot to take him down and make sure Matteo is safe.”

I meet his eyes, and despite the ghosts of the past, there’s a sense of unity in the room, a shared determination that runs deeper than any rivalry, deeper than any loyalty to blood alone.

We’re all here for one reason—to put an end to John Manzo’s reign of terror once and for all.