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Dante

I’d recognize those goddamn emerald eyes anywhere.

Six years. It’s been six years since she walked out of my life. And just like that, those mesmerizing eyes are locked on mine once again.

Only this time, they’re radiating anger.

“Gia.”

“Absolutely not,” she huffs, spinning around in her stilettos. “I’m not doing this.”

Every muscle in my body locks as the door slams behind her.

I can’t move.

I can’t breathe.

Six years of anger, betrayal, and longing collide inside of me.

Her scent lingers in the air—vanilla and jasmine. It used to calm me. Now, it feels like a noose coiling around my throat.

Where the hell had she been all these years?

I clench my fist around the crystal champagne flute I have been carrying with me as I circulated through the room being social. Turmoil swirls inside me like a rough storm brewing. This was supposed to be just another night, another damn attempt by two families to smooth things over.

I didn’t expect her.

I wasn’t ready for her.

I hadn’t been ready the night she shattered my heart into a million pieces, either.

I swallow the bitterness down, keeping my face neutral. The twinkling Christmas tree lights around me blur as I try to piece this together.

Six years and she still looks the same—my Gia.

I want to follow her, to hold her delicate frame in my arms and make her explain everything. But what’s the point?

I’m not that desperate kid anymore, living off hope. I’m not the boy who believes love can fix everything.

No. I’m Il Diavolo now. The Devil .

And Gia Vitale? She’s nothing but a ghost from my past.