Christmas Vows with the Devil

35. Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Five

Gia

We find Rocco illegally double-parked outside the main gates, blocking the road. A delivery driver curses at him while he calmly smokes a cigarette. We pick up the pace and duck inside the SUV, smiling apologetically at the delivery driver.

My family informed us that everyone was heading back to the lodge for the New Year’s Eve celebration tonight. Russo, apparently a huge softie for happy family reunions, loaned us his SUV, so we head straight there from Central Park.

Matteo peppers Dante with questions during the drive and Dante handles them like a champ. I smile down at his happy little face, finally allowing myself to fully relax.

“Are you gonna move to our house in Silver Springs?” Matteo asks happily. “Wait, or are we gonna live in New York City?”

“I’m not sure yet, buddy,” Dante answers carefully, glancing up at me. “All I know is, we’re going to be together, wherever we are.”

We finally pull up to the lodge and I feel a sense of unease for the first time in a while. This is where Matteo disappeared. Would he feel scared to be back here? Would I feel scared to stay here again?

Matteo bounds out the car, running straight into the house to find his family. I let my breathing steady and follow behind him with Dante’s firm hand on my lower back.

The house is still decorated for the holidays but the staff have outdone themselves setting up the formal room for a celebration banquet tonight.

“Gia!” My mother rounds the corner, once again the picture of grace and elegance. “There you are! We took Matteo to see his cousins before Aunt Lucia gives him a bath for tonight.”

“Great. Thanks, Mom.”

“Enjoy your time alone,” she glances quickly at Dante and winks, heading to the kitchen.

“A steamy hot bath sounds nice right about now,” Dante whispers, nuzzling my hair and tracing his fingers down my back. I swat his chest but practically race up the stairs, my heart kicking up its drumming to a frenzied march in my chest.

Dante chases me up the stairs, and our laughter rings throughout the house, making it feel even more merry. We explode into my bedroom, closing the door and falling over each other, giggling like teenagers. He traps me against the door, trailing wet kisses across my cheek.

I lick his nose in retaliation and suddenly, the air shifts and we’re kissing. Not in the playful way we were before, but in an urgent, passionate way. Passion clouds my mind and makes my body weak.

Dante’s hands slip down from my waist, cupping my ass cheeks, and pulling me closer to him. We’re still wearing our winter layers from the Central Park adventure and my body burns with desire. A fever is spreading through me, needing Dante.

I nudge his chest, walking him toward the bed as we shed our layers, coats and scarves leaving a trail behind us. His thighs hit the bed and I sink to my knees, gazing up at him, all my love for him contained in a single glance.

Running my fingers up his thighs gently makes him shiver. He moans my name, tipping his head back, and threads his fingers in my hair gently. I stroke the length of him, watching him grow and get hard for me.

Murmurs of good girl and my love float around me in a hazy dream. I wet my lips and slide my tongue up his cock, relishing in his moan of approval. He gazes down at me like I’m a goddess on my knees, worshipping me with his eyes.

I take him in my mouth, stroking him with my tongue as I do. He doubles over, cupping my head in his hands, chanting my name until he explodes down my throat. I swallow it, licking my lips, and rocking back on my heels to study the love-drunk look on his face.

He gathers me in his arms gently and lays me down on the bed, the love-drunk look replaced by an urgent hunger.

“You’re mine, Gia,” he says, kissing his way up my thighs, his hands inching my legs apart wider and wider.

“Always,” I try to say, but it comes out as a heady moan as his tongue dips inside of me.

He takes his time, torturing me with exquisitely deep, slow licks. Goosebumps break out over my skin, puckering my nipples, causing me to arch off the bed. He chuckles, the vibration hitting my sensitive clit with earth-shattering pleasure.

“Please,” I beg him, not caring about how needy I sound. “I need you, inside me. Please, Dante.”

He takes his time, trailing kisses against my hipbones, up to my ribs. My nipples get far too much attention and then I’m pulling him up, forcing him to move faster.

“Is this what you need?” he asks, sliding inside me. I gasp in pleasure, holding him still, savoring the feeling of him filling me up. He makes me feel complete—like I was missing a big chunk of my heart for six years.

“Yes,” I pant. “Slowly, please.”

“Oh, now you want it slowly?” he teases, laughing against my neck as he nibbles and sucks at my earlobe. Ever so agonizingly slowly, he pulls out and slides back inside me. We both still, our bodies radiating with pleasure.

It’s like every part of my being is alight with electricity. Every touch, every kiss feels different. I want to relish in it, but I also need him so much. I hook my knees around his waist, pushing him in deeper.

Dante gets the hint and starts up a steady smooth rhythm, thrusting himself deeper and deeper each time until I’m screaming his name. As we both find our release, we lock eyes.

The connection is so deep, so potent, that I almost cry.

Dante Manzo is my soulmate.

I’ve known it since I first met him when we were kids, and then again when we fell in love as teenagers.

I’ve known it my whole life.

And there’s nothing I want to do more than spend the rest of my life in his arms.

***

New Year’s Eve is frigid and snowy, but the Vitale lodge is warm. The place is lit up from every angle with fairy lights and sparkling decorations.

Firelight flickers in every hearth throughout the house, dancing over polished floors and catching the shimmer of crystal champagne flutes as guests flood in. The atmosphere hums with life, voices, and laughter filling every corner.

In the middle of the crowded room, surrounded by friends and family, I catch sight of Dante. We got ready separately, to surprise each other. He leans against the doorway, a champagne flute dangling from his fingers. His wild curls are brushed back tonight and he wears a black suit.

God, he’s so beautiful. I can’t believe we found each other again.

A painful memory of this room just one week ago flashes through my mind. Walking in and finding Dante here hurt like hell, but thinking about everything we went through together put things in perspective.

He loves Matteo as much as he loves me. It’s all more than I could ever hope for.

He’s watching me with that quiet intensity that makes me weak as if I'm the only person in the room. I do a little twirl for him, showing off the blood-red silk dress I picked for tonight. It dips low in the front and skims my curves without being too showy.

I toss my hair over my shoulder for good measure and he smirks, lifting his glass in a silent toast to me. I watch Matteo run over to him, pulling on his sleeve to ask a question. Dante nods and kisses the top of his head, sending him to join his cousins.

My heart grows three sizes.

As the night carries on, everyone’s spirits rise with each glass of wine, each cheerful laugh. The guests trade stories, jokes, and promises of a brighter year ahead.

I see Aunt Carla throwing her head back and laughing with Rocco, her glass of red wine miraculously still in one piece. Shaking my head, I catch Rocco’s eye and he looks away, secretly enjoying her attention.

What an odd couple. Odd but still perfectly matched.

The clock ticks closer to midnight. There’s a surge in the energy of the room, everyone buzzing with excitement as the final moments of the year slip away. I drift through the crowd, past uncles and cousins and friends, until Dante’s hand catches mine, pulling me to his side.

"One more minute," he murmurs, his voice rough in that familiar way that sets every nerve alight. I smile up at him, reveling in his undivided attention.

Someone starts the countdown. “Ten...nine...eight...”

The voices get louder, turning into a chant, each second a heartbeat, closer to midnight. We’re surrounded by a sea of faces, all eyes fixed on the clock as it hits three ...two...one...

“Happy New Year!”

Voices explode around us, and confetti showers the room, bursts of gold and silver raining down like stars. Glasses clink, and someone pops another bottle of champagne. People are hugging, laughing, cheering.

But Dante doesn’t join the cheers or reach for a drink. Instead, he pulls me close, his dark eyes steady on mine.

His hand slips into his pocket, and then he’s down on one knee, right there in the middle of the crowded room. The world fades around us, everything going quiet as he takes my hand in his.

“Gianna Vitale,” he says, his voice low but sure, carrying above the noise. “Gia, my love.”

“Dante, what is this?” I laugh nervously, glancing around the room. All eyes are focused on us, anticipation growing as people elbow each other to get a better look. I spot my mother across the room, misty-eyed and a little drunk, hanging on my father’s arm.

“I don’t want another year to pass without you at my side,” he continues. “We’ve already lost six and that’s a damn shame.”

I stare, open-mouthed, as he opens a small velvet box, revealing a ring that catches the light and sparkles like the stars in the sky outside.

“Will you marry me?”

Time stops and the air whooshes out of my lungs. I hear my pulse, feel the weight of every promise we’ve ever made, every shared look, every risk taken. It’s all culminated in this one moment.

Tears prick at my eyes, blurring my vision, even though I promised myself I’d stop crying all the time. I can barely get the words out, my voice thick with emotion.

“Yes,” I tell him, coming out in a whisper. I try again, louder this time. “Yes, yes, of course, yes!”

Dante stands, pulling me to him, kissing me as the room erupts in applause and joyful cries, the noise a blur around us. I can only focus on his arms holding me tightly. The weight of the ring on my finger feels surreal, solid—like an anchor.

“I ran it past Matteo,” he whispers, holding me close. “He gave me his very solemn blessing. I had to make certain promises, though.”

I laugh through my tears, peppering his jaw with kisses, as family and friends descend on us to give us their best wishes.

The rest of the night is a whirlwind. People come forward, one by one, to hug us, clap Dante on the back, and offer me winks and grins. Aunt Carla insists on a wine-drunk speech that ends somewhat disastrously. Uncle Tony keeps trying to start a toast, but the excitement is too wild for anyone to focus.

My father comes up to me, his expression solemn, yet proud. He holds me close, and for once, words aren’t necessary. When he pats Dante on the back and welcomes him to the family, I know everything will work out.

Dante is never far from my side. His hand finds mine at every turn, his thumb brushing over the ring as if he’s as amazed by it as I am. At some point, he leans in close, whispering in my ear, “Always.”

I glance up at him, the champagne and wine clouding my vision. “Always.”

The night feels like a dream, each moment surreal. I lose track of time, of who I’ve hugged, of how many times I’ve been pulled to the dance floor, laughing and spinning, until my feet ache.

Midnight slips into morning, and the first light of the new year creeps over the horizon, soft and golden.

As the sun rises, casting a glow over the world, I lean into Dante, happier than I’ve ever been.