Page 92 of The Don's Soulmate

I turn to my side and watch him settle down on his side of the bed. I’ve hooked up with plenty of guys before, and while it’s clear that Viktor is also just a long-term fling, he’s unlike the others. In the past, our personal lives outside of our fling were kept separate. But, for weeks now, he’s followed up on Carlotta, always keen to know if I’ve heard from her.

The truth is that his concern for my friend is refreshing and touching beyond belief. But on a certain level, I wish he wouldn’t ask me so often about her. I use our time together to forget about the worries that keep me up all night, and when he asks, it all comes crashing back.

But I can’t exactly tell him that, can I? Sharing my vulnerabilities could swing one of two ways - it could either lead to an argument or turn this thing we have into something a little more serious. And right now? I can’t do serious.

"Thank you for asking. You're so sweet to keep checking in on her. But no, nothing so far." My heart aches at the thought of Carlotta, lost and alone, running from Ugo, and I have no idea if Ettore is still alive to watch over her.

Viktor looks disappointed, nodding silently before lying down on his side, his back to me. He drifts off to sleep almostimmediately, leaving me alone with my thoughts. As the tingling aftershocks of my orgasm fade, my mind shifts fully to Carlotta. Where is she? Is she safe? Is Ettore watching over her? Being who he is, he, too, must have enemies on his tracks.

And why in hell haven’t they reached out to me? My mind goes back to that dark place - the one where they’re dead.

I hold back a sob at the mental image of her body disintegrating unclaimed in some ditch. She's more than just a friend; she's my rock, my confidante, my sister in all but blood.

Minutes turn into half an hour, and I find myself digging my own grave with my imagination. I can't just lie here any longer, not without going insane. Sleep will continue to evade me, and this isn’t healthy.

Glancing over at Viktor's sleeping form, I carefully slip out of bed, doing my best to avoid making any noise.

Once dressed, I make my way through the dark house, taking small, quiet steps.

I ease open the front door and step outside, shivering as the cool night air caresses my skin. An owl hoots softly in the distance, the only sound breaking the eerie silence surrounding me.

Unease churns in my gut as I make my way down the front path to the street. Something isn't right. I pause, glancing around at the shadows lurking beneath the pale glow of the moon, my heart pounding.

A hand clamps over my mouth, muffling my startled cry. I'm yanked backwards into a hard chest, a sickly sweet scent filling my nostrils.

Chloroform.

I struggle against the iron grip holding me, terror flooding my veins, but my limbs grow heavier with each passing second. Darkness creeps into the edges of my vision, dimming the world around me as I'm dragged into oblivion.

The last thing I'm aware of before losing consciousness altogether is that there is more than one man. Then everything fades to black.

The cold, hard chair beneath me is the first thing I register as my senses slowly return. My body aches, and my head throbs with pain, making it difficult to focus. Blinking through the haze, I realize I'm lying on the ground in a dimly lit warehouse, my wrists tightly bound behind me.

"Where am I?" I mumble, fear creeping into my voice as I struggle against the restraints, only causing them to dig deeper into my skin.

"Help!" I scream desperately, hoping someone, anyone, will hear me. But the vast emptiness of the warehouse seems to swallow my cries whole, leaving me with nothing but echoing silence.

"Please," I whisper, choking back tears, knowing they must be watching. “What do you want from me?”

The panic overwhelms me, the pain rising sharp down my heart, across my chest. I stop struggling against the bindings, like a deer frozen in the headlights. And then, the heavy metal door of the warehouse creaks open, revealing a masked man flanked by others. I can hear my blood gushing in fear.

"Who are you?" I demand, trying to sound brave even though my voice trembles. "This must be a mistake, please. I’m no one. You’ve got the wrong person.”

"Take this," the masked man ignores me, handing an envelope full of cash to one of the kidnappers. They greedily count the money before nodding their satisfaction and quickly leave the warehouse. It's clear they believe he orchestrated this kidnapping – but why?

"Please," I beg once more, "Let me go."

The masked man remains silent for a moment, his gaze piercing through me. I can't help but feel a strange familiarity in those eyes, but the terror coursing through me makes it impossible to think clearly.

The cold steel of the chair against my back only intensifies the fear coursing through me. I can feel the ropes biting into my wrists and ankles, making it impossible to move or escape. My heart pounds hopelessly in my chest.

"Please," I plead, my voice trembling with fear as I look up at the masked man towering over me. "Don't hurt me. I'll do anything you want."

"Stay calm. I’m not here to hurt you," he commands. Though he doesn't sound entirely cruel, I shudder when he begins to walk towards me.

"Tell me, then," I demand, my anger momentarily overpowering my fear. "If you're not going to hurt me, explain what's going on!"

"Very well," he sighs, reaching up to remove his mask slowly as he’s almost in front of me. As the fabric falls away, revealing the face beneath, my eyes widen in shock and recognition.

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