Page 64 of The Don's Soulmate

With Sofia's revelation hanging in the air, a tense silence settles over the car. I meet her gaze in the rearview mirror, trying to decipher the woman who dares challenge her dear friend.

“So, what does she protect?” I ask, with bated breath.

Sofia sighs, relenting under my questioning gaze, ignoring Carlotta’s desperate look. "There are twenty-three pieces of precious art that Ugo was gifted by Carlotta’s father. Carlotta's been working tirelessly to save them before they're lost forever, and she thinks the only way she can get them is by marrying Ugo. She can't abandon everything she's fought for just because of some...strange loyalty to history."

A slow grin spreads across my face as Sofia's words sink in. The 23 pieces of art - the missing puzzle piece finally falling into place. Carlotta's dedication, her selfless determination to protecthistorical masterpieces, it only deepens my admiration for her. She fights for what she believes in, just as fiercely as I do.

"So, Ugo has what Carlotta holds dear," I muse aloud, a plan forming in my mind.

Carlotta watches me warily, uncertainty flickering in her emerald eyes. She can see the wheels turning in my head, the dangerous glint that ignites when a challenge presents itself.

"Sofia, thank you for your honesty," I say with genuine appreciation. Then, turning my body to Carlotta, I reach out over the seat and take her hand in mine and lock gazes with her.

“There’s no reason why you have to marry him for the art. If there’s one thing that I know Ugo Caputo loves more than cruelty, it’s money. I won't let anyone or anything threaten what matters to you. Let's steal back what is rightfully yours."

Carlotta gasps, her lips parting in question, but no words come out. Sofia, on the other hand, raises an eyebrow and her lips curl into a small smile. “Now,” she mutters, her eyes darting between Carlotta and I. “I wouldn’t exactly call that stealing, would I?”

I shrug. “I suppose not. Carlotta?”

Carlotta’s eyes widen as she glances between her friend and me.

“Car?” Sofia asks gently, gently squeezing her friend’s shoulder.

Carlotta takes a deep breath, then nods. “Let’s do it,” she whispers.

Chapter 29

Carlotta

I watch as Ettore and Sofia drive off into the night, my heart heavy with a mix of fear for the plunge we’re about to take and longing to be in his periphery again. Near Ettore, I feel safe. A gust of wind sends a shiver down my spine, urging me to retreat from the cold embrace of the darkness.

I walk through the front gates, the guards giving me curious looks, which I ignore. It wasn’t safe for Ettore to pull in today. We need to lay low, for our plan to work.

As I step into the warmth of the house, relief washes over me at entering undetected, only for a moment before being replaced by a growing sense of unease. Ugo's men line the hall, hands resting on holstered guns. Their cold eyes follow me as I try to hurry past, clutching my shawl tighter.

"Where have you been?" A gruff voice startles me, causing my pulse to quicken as he blocks my path. It's one of Ugo's men, his dark gaze fixed on me with a predatory intensity.

"Out," I reply curtly, my voice barely above a whisper. I try to slip past him, but he moves to block my path.

"Ugo doesn't like it when you're out late," he sneers, his breath reeking of stale alcohol.

"He was the one who suggested it,” I say, feigning confidence while internally cursing my inability to stand up to these men. "I was out with my friend Sofia.”

"Is that so?" Another voice chimes in, this one belonging to a second thug. The two men exchange smirks, clearly amused by my defiance.

"Enough." I muster as much authority as I can into my tone. "Let me pass."

"Of course, signorina," the first man says, stepping aside with an exaggerated bow. I hold my head high as I walk past them, trying to ignore the way their laughter follows me through the hall.

The house feels suffocating, every corner filled with Ugo's menacing presence. He must have stayed back for drinks with my father, I think to myself, the thought doing little to ease the tension coiling in my chest.

I can't help but think of Ettore, and how different he is from Ugo. He's kind and protective, always appearing when I need him most. And his men would never threaten me. He’d kill them if theydidn’tprotect me. Of that, I am certain.

I quickly climb the stairs to go straight to bed, in a rush to get away from his men’s watchful gaze. My fingers instinctively move to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear, a nervous habit I've been unable to shake.

The air is heavy, suffocating, as I creep through the dimly lit corridor.

"Damn it!" A voice booms from behind a closed door, making me jump. Ugo's anger echoes through the hallway, and instinctively, I press myself against the wall, trying to blend into the shadows.

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