Page 31 of The Don's Soulmate

Ugo pushes off the wall and approaches me, hands raised in a placating gesture. I force myself to remain still. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear.

"Carlotta, I must apologize for my behavior during our first date," he says, full of remorse. "I was worried for your safety and acted rashly. I hope you will forgive me."

I know better than to trust his honey-coated words. Ugo Caputo cares only for himself. Some ulterior motive lies behind his fake apologies. I stare at him calmly, refusing to grant him forgiveness.

Ugo's eyes narrow at my silence - a flash of anger - before his expression turns into concern. "Have I done something to offend you, Carlotta? I only wish to make things right between us."

I scoff, unable to contain my derision.

“Carlotta!” my father bellows from behind Ugo, angered by my disrespect.

“But father,” I cry out. “You don’t know what happened last night! I never got to tell you the whole truth!”

“She’s right, Salvatore,” Ugo chimes in, his sly voice grating at my nerves. “A key client of mine came by our table and made the girl jealous. Perhaps… Carlotta isn’t ready to be married to someone of my status.”

“That’s not true,” my father rushes to appease Ugo. “She is ready to take on the responsibility of such marriage, Ugo. Please.”

“I am not convinced,” Ugo protests, manipulating the situation as always.

“Please, Signor Caputo,” my brother rises from his chair, nursing his arm as he walks over to us. “My sister might be young, but all she needs is another chance to prove herself.”

“I don’t need another chance to prove myself,” I leap up from my chair, fists clenched. “You all heard Ettore’s account of what happened last night. Whathedid,” I thrust my arm, pointing at Ugo, “how he followed me out after I left the restaurant and…….and,” my voice breaks as tears well up.

“Stop your tears,” my father orders, red in the face.

Angelo comes to stand right next to me and grabs my arm so hard it hurts. “Treat our guest with respect,” he whispers.

The tension in the room tightens like a noose around my neck. I feel my father's disapproving gaze on me as I struggle to find the words to convince them.

"Papa, please," I plead, desperate to explain. "Ugo was completely out of line last night. He had no right to touch me like that. No loving fiancé would ever treat his future wife like...like a common-"

"Carlotta," my father interrupts. "You're overreacting. Ugo has already apologized for his behavior and promised it won't happen again. You need to let this go and focus on growing your budding relationship."

“In our line of work, we must make people feel valued,” my father says, his glare silencing me. “You don’t understand; Signor Caputo did what he thought best. You don’t know how difficult it is for a businessman like him to maintain good relationships. You knownothing.Now, be grateful that your soon-to-be husband is giving you another chance after what happened to him last night.”

“Happened to him?” I whisper. This entire situation makes me feel as if I’m losing my mind.

“I need some air, please excuse me,” with those words, I rush through one of the side doors that lead to the patio.

“Carlotta! Come back this instant!” I hear Papa and Angelo calling out to me, but I can’t go back in there.They must be crazy; this whole thing is crazy!

The injustice of it all burns within me. I stumble down the last two steps into the back garden and make right for the swing under the old Carob tree. My own brother and father, who should protect me, are simply brushing off the very real concerns I’ve raised.

Halfway across the lawn I hear heavy footsteps in the grass. I wheel around, seething with anger “Please, Angelo, don’t make me…” I start. Ugo grabs my upper arm. I wriggle to loosen his grip. “Get your filthy hands off me!” Panic threatens to rob my last hold on reality.

And then my jaw drops, because Ugo Caputo starts laughing. A bellowing laugh which rolls over the grassy carpet. I stand frozen, stunned by this bizarre behavior. Over his shoulder I see Angelo and Papa rushing unto the patio, and stopping in their tracks.

Ugo doesn’t stop laughing. He fumbles inside his jacket. Is he pulling out a gun? Will he shoot me in front of my family?

In his hand he is holding a monogrammed handkerchief, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Oh, my dear Carlotta, youdoprovide the best entertainment.” With those words he slinks his arm around my waist and maneuvers me to the swing.

Too stunned by his unexpected behavior, I offer no resistance when he forces me to sit.

Thankfully, I find my voice again. “What the hell are you doing?” not even sure if I’m referring to his outburst of laughter or the fact that he has started pushing me on the swing.

“Just trying to persuade my fiancé to accept my hand of forgiveness by joining me for dinner.” There’s an ominous smirk in his voice.

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