Christmas Vows with the Devil

Epilogue

Dante

One Year Later

Snow dusts the windowsills of our New York townhouse like powdered sugar. Soft lights drape our home, twinkling like tiny diamonds.

It's Christmas Eve, and Gia is beside me, radiant and glowing. Her hand rests gently on her growing belly as she twirls in front of the mirror. With her hair gathered in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, and the emerald green dress draped artfully over her curves, she looks ethereal.

I duck out of the bedroom to check on Matteo’s progress with his suit. He insisted on getting ready himself and I chuckle at the soft grunts coming from his room. Peeking in, I see him struggling with his bow tie—a miniature version of mine.

“Need a hand?”

“Daaaad,” he drags the word out, frustrated. “It looked so easy on YouTube.”

I kneel in front of him, fixing the bow tie until it’s perfect and spin him around to face the mirror. His curls are neatly brushed back and he looks so much older than the little kid I met a year ago.

“Keep practicing and you’ll get it by New Year’s Eve,” I tell him, kissing the top of his head. “I promise.”

Gia wanders into the room, a serene smile on her face, and Matteo runs over to kiss her belly and say hello to his little sister. It’s hard to believe that this is our life now.

One year ago, we fought to keep Matteo safe. Now, we’re here, all together, getting ready for the Christmas Extravaganza.

“We’d better get this show on the road,” I say, checking my watch.

“Is Grandpa ready?” Matteo asks, dashing into the hall and down the stairs to check. I chuckle, thinking about how different this Christmas will be.

We initially debated where the best place for us to live would be. Eventually, we decided Matteo would have a much simpler, happier childhood in Silver Springs. So, I sold off my entire company, cut ties with the mafia, and joined my family in our new little townhome.

Gia instantly introduced me to Frank, Matteo’s “adopted grandpa” and shared how much he did for her when she was a single mother. She also told Frank the truth about her identity and he took it like a champ.

When I realized how talented he was when it came to investments, we went into business together finding and funding small businesses as silent partners. Now, Matteo has Frank Grandpa and Giancarlo Grandpa, and I’m grateful that he never has to grow up under my father’s thumb.

I smile at Gia, leading her downstairs by the hand, and help her with her coat. Once the crew is ready, we pile into our SUV and hit the road. We’re spending another Christmas week at the Vitale Lodge, but this time, there are no secrets, no ghosts left to haunt us.

***

Matteo dashes past me, his little feet skidding over the polished floor, a look of sheer determination on his face. He yells to his cousins to catch him as he tries to dodge the towering gingerbread man Aunt Carla crafted.

Her insistence on making this the “first official Manzo/Vitale Christmas Extravaganza” has led to an explosion of holiday decor. Giant wreaths, ornaments the size of basketballs, candy-cane statues, and garlands woven with real pine and berries overpower the house.

The whole place smells like cinnamon, pine, and something sweet in the oven.

Gia’s family and mine have gathered in the living room, the glow of the fireplace making everything feel warm and golden. She leans into me, wrapping her arm through mine as we watch the kids race around and the families chat.

“Can you believe this?” I whisper into her hair. She looks up at me, her emerald eyes bright and warm.

“Feels like a fever dream, Manzo,” she says, her lips curling into a soft smile. “And I keep wondering when I’ll wake up.”

I bring her hand to my lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “If you wake up, I’ll just pull you back here. This is where you belong, Mrs. Manzo.”

Aunt Carla enters the room, wearing a Santa hat and wielding a spatula like a wand. “Everyone!” she calls, loud and dramatic as always. “Christmas Eve dinner is served!”

Dinner is a raucous affair. Matteo insists on helping Giancarlo carve the turkey, his little hands resting on his grandfather’s as he grips the knife.

“No, GC Grandpa,” Matteo scolds, using his pet name for Giancarlo, or GC Grandpa. “Cut here first!”

Giancarlo chuckles, his eyes crinkling with warmth. His hair is whiter at the temples this year, and he’s starting to look very much like Santa Claus himself. Gia is laughing at something her mother says, her hand drifting over her belly.

I catch her eye, feeling that warm glow of love, gratitude, and pride all over again.

After we’ve stuffed ourselves, Aunt Lucia brings out a monstrous fruitcake she claims is her piece de resistance . Matteo stares at it, wide-eyed, as if she’s unveiled some kind of magical relic.

Gia chuckles, and I squeeze her hand under the table, knowing how much she adores these little quirks about her family. Once everyone has eaten and a few rounds of toasts are made, my Uncle Tony stands up, raising a glass.

“To the Manzos and the Vitales!” he says, his voice booming over the table. “May this be the first of many Christmases together.”

Glasses clink around the table, laughter echoing through the room. As always, my eyes drift to my wife as she laughs, her face lit up with that golden warmth that makes her look like a fairy. It’s impossible to imagine that a year ago, I was hiding in my dark office, wrapped in rage and resentment.

It’s impossible to believe that I was Il Diavolo.

I’ve become everything my father hated, everything he spent his life working to prevent. I drive Matteo to Little League and art classes in that ungodly minivan Gia made me buy. I host birthday parties and read bedtime stories. And when my little girl finally comes, I’ll be throwing tea parties and watching ballet performances.

And I love every second of it. I hope he’s rolling over in his cold, hard grave.

“What’s that smug look on your face?” Gia leans in, brushing her fingers up my thigh under the table.

I clear my throat, putting on a mask of false piety and solemnness. “Just being grateful.”

She smacks my thigh under the table, rolling her eyes at me, but I see the twinkle in them. I catch the little secret smile she hides.

After dinner, we gather in the living room, watching the kids open their one Christmas Eve present. The uncles distribute glasses of wine around the room and we reminisce on last year’s holidays until Carla scolds us.

Talk turns to the baby, as it usually does with this family. Both the Vitale and Manzo sides are overly excited about the new baby, suggesting unique names and trying to guess what she’ll be like.

“She’ll be sassy like Gia, of course,” Giancarlo chuckles. “You know Russo still asks about you to this day?”

“Oh yeah?” I play the part of the jealous husband, wrapping my arm protectively around her. “What does he want with my woman?”

“Wants her to join his crew, he says.”

Giancarlo and the uncles erupt in laughter and Gia grins at them, shaking her head.

“I think she’ll have Dante’s beautiful curls,” Aunt Carla adds, batting her eyelashes at me. Rocco swats her playfully, then leans in to give her a peck on the cheek. Those two are the new hot topic of our families this year and we couldn’t be happier.

Matteo brings over a huge book of Christmas stories that’s nearly as big as he is. “Daddy,” he says, his voice serious, “can we read my favorite?”

“Of course, Matty.” I scoop him up onto my lap, and he settles in, his head against my chest. I start reading The Night Before Christmas , and his eyes grow huge and gleam with excitement. It’s not long before the young cousins have formed a semi-circle around me, settling in for the story.

The uncles and aunts also put down their cards and wine glasses, focusing on me. The attention makes me antsy but I continue, knowing this is a core memory in the making for my little boy.

By the time I finish the last page, he’s drifting off, his little head bobbing as he tries to keep his eyes open. Gia gently pries him off me and we carry him upstairs to his room. We stand there for a moment, watching him sleep, and she reaches for my hand.

“Think he’ll be up early?” she whispers.

I chuckle softly. “If he’s anything like me, he’ll be tearing down here at dawn.”

We make our way to the adjoining bedroom, slipping into cozy flannel sheets. The fireplace illuminates the room, throwing gentle light on Gia’s face as she leans to kiss me. She settles back against her pillow, looking peaceful and beautiful, her cheeks flushed.

“I never thought I’d have this,” she murmurs, her eyes already closing. “A real family. Not just on paper, but in every way that matters.”

I pull her close, my hand resting on her belly. “It was meant to be,” I say, feeling the incredible weight of the words, knowing they’re true. “Always.”

Gia smiles, resting her head on my shoulder. “Always.”

I fall asleep dreaming about the chaos of two kids underfoot, noise and laughter filling every room, and the way our lives will be woven together through each tiny moment.

It’s all I’ve ever wanted, and more than I ever knew was possible.

Outside, snow begins to fall again, making a soft blanket that’ll greet us in the morning as we wake to another Christmas and another year. Another chance to live this life we’ve built together.

The end.

***

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***

The mafia boss kidnapped me and took my v-card. Now the savage beast is forcing me to be his bride.

Alyssa I’m a pawn in a twisted game of revenge. Viper slithered in, all dark eyes and dangerous promises. His touch leaves an impression deeper than his ring on my finger—it’s a vow all its own.

As I plot for my freedom, Antonio's ruthless allure is coiling around me, stealing my breath away.

I feel his fangs thrust inside me and I want to say ‘I do’ forever. But my loyalty isn’t so easily given…

Antonio She’s my enemy’s girl. I stole the pretty little thing. I’m going to make her my wife.

That’s why they call me Viper—my vengeance is deadly venom. But her defiance has me unraveling. Her nerve is intoxicating.

I want us to go to war together . I want her to say yes and mean it. Till death do us part.

***

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