Page 38 of The Don's Soulmate

Her emerald eyes meet mine, filled with a desperate intensity that threatens to pierce through the hardened exterior I've built over centuries. It's a vulnerability I haven't allowed myself to feel in a long time, but for her... I find myself hesitating.

For some reason, I don’t want her angry with me. I don’t want her disappointed at my behest.

"Carlotta, he's dangerous. He will hurt you again if I let him live," I argue, trying to reason with her even as my body quivers with rage. I want nothing more than to end Ugo's miserable existence.

Suddenly, there’s a barrage of footsteps and a stream of flashlights around us. “What the hell?” I exclaim, turning back, shielding my eyes from the lights going off all around us.

“Is that Ugo Caputo?” someone screams, turning the cameras to where my men have him.

“Who are those guys?” another yells, asking for information. All around us, theseinvadersare asking, prying, clicking photos.

“Oh my god,” Carlotta whispers, digging into my hand now. “They’re here.”

“Who?” I inquire, unable to make out anything through the blinding lights.

“The journalists,” Camela whispers. "Please, Ettore," she says now with urgency, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I know what he is, but … but,” I can see her fighting for a reason. “There are people here. They’re all watching. You all could go to jail. Don’t make your men lose their lives for him,” she puts forth a convincing argument. “The cameras will get everything.”

Damn her compassionate heart. It's tearing me apart inside, the conflict between my desire to rip out his eyes, and acknowledge that she speaks the truth. In the end, I find myself relenting, if only to spare my men from time in prison, and protect my family from any disgrace that can land us in trouble.

My men watch me intently, waiting for my command, sheltering their faces from the cameras. Ugo sputters and get to his feet. "Stay out of the papers," I instruct them, my voice firm but measured. "Make sure he poses no immediate threat."

As my men begrudgingly follow my orders, I take Carlotta’s arm in my hand. "Come with me," I tell her softly. Our gazes lock, and everything fades away.

Chapter 17

Carlotta

And once again, he’s come to my rescue. His grip is iron on my arm, but I don’t mind for in his proximity, I realize I’ll always be safe. I look up at his tall figure, broad shoulders, stopping at the blue of his eyes. Despite the fight, his vest is pleated just right. There’s not a hair out of place and his face - so beautiful and chiseled.

Besides me, Ugo is cursing and abusing the journalists, who surround him from every corner, asking questions.

“Mr. Caputo, what happened tonight?”

“Mr. Caputo, who were those goons?”

“Mr. Caputo, is it true that you own three Da Vinci’s?”

“Mr. Caputo, is it true you’re here to buy more pieces for your secret collection? Which artist caught your eye tonight?”

This was not how Ugo was to be hounded by journalists, to have his photo taken with a bloodied nose and torn shirt, but to be honest, he made his own bed. However it’s worked out, it brings me great joy to realize that it ismy planthat worked.

Having leaked the information regarding one of America’s most notorious billionaires holding secret an invaluable treasure trove of art, I now know that tomorrow, all the papers would be flooded with news of this mysterious and most coveted collection. In time, offers to purchase would come through.

Knowing Ugo and his greed for wealth and lack of appreciation for culture of any significant form, he’d sell for a right price. The art would be cherished, treasured, and hopefully not destroyed.

Of course, there’s another angle we’re playing at. Tomorrow morning, Sofia is to meet her banker. With a wealthy father, if she succeeds in placing an undervalued bid for some of those pieces, I could own them again. I could sell them off for the right price, pay off the debt I owe Sofia, and finally be free of Ugo Caputo and my father.

“Come with me,” Ettore says again, startling me from my thoughts.

“Come with you?” I ask, confused. “Where to?”

“Anywhere but here.”

That possibility of anywhere feels promising. We could, in another life, run away with no consequence. But here, in this lifetime, it’s impossible. There’s just too much at stake.

"I can’t go with you,” I say again, but Ettore isn’t listening. His gaze sharpens as he notices the fear in my eyes. Wordlessly he places an arm around my waist, forcing me along, while I dig my feet into the ground. “No, please,” I try to tell him.

"Carlotta, we need to get out of here now," Ettore growls, his cold blue eyes locked on mine as he continues to drag me towards the car. I feel powerless, confused. Ugo. My family. They’d kill me if I leave my fiancé behind for an escapade with an enemy. Besides, Ugo suspects we’re lovers. Which we aren’t.

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