Page 16 of The Don's Soulmate

I flinch but hold my ground. "Well, that didn’t happen now, did it? And I doubt the robbers knew who I was.”

"You would do well to remember that you are no longer in high school, little sister. It's time to grow up and accept that we have rules and regulations in place for your safety, for a reason."

“Your brother is right, child. Since your mother…” my father presses his lips firmly together. It is only for a second, then he collects himself again. “We cannot afford to look weak again. If word got out that Salvatore D’Amici cannot even control his own daughter,” he jabs a finger at the window, including the entire criminal underworld in his statement, “they will come for us like hyenas to a carcass!”

Their words cut deep. I've always been the obedient daughter. Always aware of how my behavior will reflect on my family. That is why I decided to study art in Paris, and not in America – because of the family’s reputation.

Dealing in art is an occupation in keeping with my family’s position in society. I could never work as a teacher or a nurse. That would be considered beneath us. But something is shifting inside me, a quiet rebellion taking root.

"So, now I’m being traded like a piece of art? Sold off to the highest bidder, without giving me a choice in the matter?"

Father's eyes flash with warning. "Watch yourself, Carlotta. You know how much your upcoming marriage means for this family. Ugo Caputo is not a man you want to disappoint. His resources are substantial; his reach far and wide."

I swallow hard, my appetite vanishing. Yesterday, after my father pulled some strings with the carabinieri, I was let go. By that time my date with Ugo Caputo had been cancelled. Still, the mere thought of marrying him after everything Sofia has told me, turns my stomach upside down.

"I just...I want more out of life, father. Can't you understand that?"

"Angelo is right, Carlotta. We all have our contribution to make. It would be best if you started behaving like a proper daughter of this family. No more gallivanting around the city, putting yourself in danger. Ugo Caputo will keep you in line, of that I’m sure, even if I can’t." Papa scoffs, his fork clanging against his plate. His thin mustache is trembling like it does when he’s angry.

I nod meekly, hot tears pricking at the corners of my vision. I won’t get through to him this morning especially since he’s still angry about me endangering my life by intentionally evading my security detail.

I clench my fists beneath the table, biting back the defiant words that threaten to spill from my lips.

"Yes, Papa," I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper.

Francesca, my sweet cousin, catches my eye from across the table. Her expression is a mix of pity and understanding, witha hint of solidarity between us. She knows all too well the suffocating weight of our family's expectations.

"Perhaps Carlotta just needs some time to adjust to the idea of marriage," Francesca suggests gently, offering me a sympathetic smile. "It's a big change, after all."

"Nonsense. She's had plenty of time to come to terms with her duty since she was just a little girl, as every woman has in our family. The marriage will proceed as planned, and I won't hear another word about it."

Papa’s grey eyes look at me piercingly. " Now, have a thorough rest so that you can look your best for your date tonight. You should show your gratitude that Signor Caputo was willing to forget the matter so easily.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, my appetite gone. As the conversation shifts to business and politics, I retreat into myself, my mind racing with desperate thoughts of escape.

I rifle through my closet, searching for an outfit that will subtly undermine the image of the perfect Mafia bride. My fingers brush against a simple, long cotton dress in a deep shade of midnight blue. It's a far cry from fashionable and feels like a small victory, a way to assert my own identity in the face of overwhelming control.

As I slip into it, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The soft fabric hides all my curves. I certainly won’t be turning any heads tonight. Perhaps I can give myself a fighting chance to free myself from this marriage.

Perhaps if my so-called fiancé doesn’t like me, he’d pull out of this agreement. Sabotage is well worth the effort.

There is a sharp rap at the door, jolting me from my thoughts. My heart sinks. Angelo strides into the room, his eyes narrowing as he takes in my appearance.

"What are you wearing?" he demands, his voice laced with disapproval. "You're supposed to be getting ready for dinner with Ugo, not playing dress-up like a child."

Somewhere deep inside, I find the courage to stand up for myself. "I thought this dress would be appropriate for the occasion," I say softly, my eyes downcast. "It's elegant and sophisticated, and I-"

But Angelo cuts me off with a dismissive wave. "Don't be ridiculous," he snaps. "You're not going to dinner with Ugo looking like a nun. Go change into something more suitable for a first date, something that will show off your assets."

I flush with shame and anger. “You can’t tell me what to wear,” I almost scream at him.

Without another word, Angelo strides forward and seizes my arm. His grip is harsh, bruising—a stark reminder of the powerhe holds over me. The tears threaten to spill over, but I bite my lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

He drags me back to the closet. I stand there trembling as he rifles through my cupboard and, at last, pulls out a sultry red number. It’s low cut neckline, strappy sleeves, and high slit on the thigh leave little to the imagination. It was a gift from Sofia before I left for Paris. It’s everything I would never choose for myself, a scarlet imprint of submission.

It's also exactly what Angelo and Ugo will expect me to wear.

"This is what you'll wear," Angelo commands, his tone brooking no argument. "You will go downstairs and make Signor Caputo believe you're thrilled about this marriage. Do not embarrass Father again. If you do, the next time you see him will be on your damn wedding night."

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