Page 18 of The Don's Soulmate

Ugo proceeds to order the most expensive bottle of champagne. He takes the two glasses the waiter has poured, and hands me one. “To an unforgettable night with the most beautiful woman in the world. Alla nostra!”

We clink our glasses and I take a sip. “You’re too slow,” he says.. “Come on. Down it.”

“I’m afraid the downing days are behind me,” I say with a straight face.

“Ah, yes,” he sneers. “Your college days. Though what good an education does a woman of your standing, eludes me.”

Not knowing what to make of that comment, I bristle under his stare. “Excuse me?” I ask.

“Your family has means. People go to college to work. You won’t ever need to work. So why did you waste all that time?”

Ugo's condescending remarks chip away at my carefully maintained facade. “Because I like to work,” I tell him. “I’ve always had internships, jobs.”

“Well, you won’t,” he says, slamming down his glass rather hard. “Once we’re married, you’d manage the house. And kids, of course.”

I almost choke on the champagne, the thought of making kids with him sickening to the gut. “K…kids?” I manage to sputter out. “I haven’t thought about kids.”

“I need heirs,” he says. “Sons. A daughter would do eventually if you want, but a son is a must, Carlotta. There’s nothing to think about here. We’ll start trying the moment we get married.”

I watch Ugo with a mix of horror and disbelief, his words hammering home the cruel reality of my fate. The walls close in around me, and I put down my fork, my appetite lost. Not that I had much to begin with.

The silence stretches on. Ugo watches the room full of people, waving at some he recognizes. He ignores me, sparing not a single thought to what might be going through my mind right now.

But then, everyone’s attention is drawn to the restaurant’s entrance, where a commotion erupts. A woman's laughter, rich and vibrant, cuts through the air like a knife. Ugo's eyes take on a predatory gleam as he turns his gaze towards the source of the sound.

A stunning woman, dressed in a figure-hugging black short skirt and a tucked in vest that leaves little to the imagination, sashays towards our table. Her dark hair cascades down her back in waves, framing her striking features with an air of confidence that commands attention. As she approaches, I notice a subtle flicker of recognition in Ugo's eyes.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Ugo growls, standing to greet her as she stops by his chair. “Rosa, I must say, you certainly know how to make an entrance."

I notice his voice is smoother than when he talks to me.

“Ah, Ugo,” she giggles, and places her hand on his chest. “What a pleasant surprise to see you here tonight.”

She ignores me, and he doesn’t bother making introductions. I sit frozen in my chair, feeling like an outsider intruding on this exchange.

Rosa leans in closer to Ugo and his eyes linger on her cleavage as her fingers trail lightly over his chest, a coy smile playing on her lips.

"Business or pleasure tonight, darling?" Rosa purrs, her gaze flickering towards me briefly before returning to Ugo with a glint of mischief in her eyes.

Ugo's response is low and gravelly, his hand coming to rest possessively on Rosa's waist. "A bit of both, my dear. But nothing to keep me away from catching up with you."

Just then, his hand slides to the back of her ass, resting slightly on it. I recoil in disgust, as I realize the nature of their relationship.

My chest tightens, a wave of anger crashing over me as I witness the man I am supposed to marry behaving so shamelessly in public.

Without a word, or a second thought, I rise abruptly from my seat. The scrape of the heavy chair against the marble floor echoes in the sudden silence that falls over our table. My eyes lock onto Ugo's, blazing with a newfound fire that even surprises me. The audacity of his actions, the blatant disrespect he shows me by his actions—it is more than I can bear.

“I think it’s time I went home,” I declare, and turn my back on them, ready to leave this hell of a date behind.

Chapter 8

Ettore

The clink of ice against glass echoes in my ears as I take the last sip of my cocktail. I’m struggling to focus on the conversation surrounding me. My business associates drone on about territories and profits, but all I can think about is getting the hell out of here.

Fuck it. I pay them well enough. They’ve had enough of my time.

"Make sure the deal goes through without a hitch," I growl, cutting through their chatter. They look surprised, but nod in unison. With a final glance around the dimly lit room, I push back my chair and rise from the table. “Goodnight, gentlemen.”

---