Page 66 of The Don's Soulmate

It's like an invisible thread tugging at my heart, urging me towards something – or someone. The sensation overwhelms me, filling my veins with an electric thrill. Could it be? Is my soulmate drawing near? Are my dreams a warning, begging me to keep her safe.

Who could it be?

"Carlotta?" I whisper, half-doubtful, half-hopeful.

The name slips from my lips, an instinctive response to this magnetic pull. But could it truly be her?

"Impossible," I tell myself, trying to shake off the notion. But deep down, I know there's no denying it. How we keep seeking each other out through circumstance, the pull that makes me want to protect her at all cost, including defying my family, the mark we share. This force drawing me closer – it's real, and it's stronger than anything I've ever felt before.

With my heart still racing, I throw off the covers and leap out of bed. The wish to lay in and think of Carlotta is overwhelming, but I can't allow myself to be distracted by it, not when there's so much at stake, and all of it forher. My mind races as I consider the plans I've set in motion for tonight – the counterfeit cash, the convoy, the dangerous transaction. There's no room for error, and I can't afford to let my guard down now.

"Everything must go smoothly," I mutter, reaching for my phone. The first call I make is to my contact within the Illuminati. I'm all too aware of the risk I take each time I involve myself with them, but their resources are unmatched.

"Is the cash ready?" I demand, my voice low and menacing.

"Relax, Mancini," comes the static robotic reply. These women, they always use intelligence to remain hidden. "We've got everything under control. The cash, hold and crypto is ready."

"Make sure you do," I warn. “How much do I owe you?”

“Two million,” the voice says.

“Consider it done. The bitcoin will be with you by tonight.”

Two million, along with the real cash of a million I’ll have stored in with the counterfeit, is worth it to reclaim two hundred million dollars’ worth of art.

Next, I dial the number for my private army to confirm that they're prepared for the convoy tonight. The buyer we're hiring for the night isn't someone I'd typically choose, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I can’t go with my trusted men, for they answer to my father, and my family can’t know about the heist we have planned for tonight.

"Are we ready to move?" I ask.

"Affirmative," he replies without hesitation. "The convoy is prepared and armed, and the buyer has been informed. We'll be ready to leave at your command."

"Good," I say, allowing a small smile of satisfaction to cross my lips. "I want nothing less than perfection."

As I disconnect the call, I know that there's no turning back now. My family remains blissfully unaware of the dark dealings I've arranged for the evening, but my duty as Carlotta’s protector outweighs any lingering sense of guilt or doubt.

I quickly dress in one of my impeccably tailored suits, feeling the familiar weight of power settle around me like an old friend. There's comfort in maintaining appearances, in the way my clothes project an image of strength and control. It's a small, vital part to play to make sure my family doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

Leaving the room, I make my way toward where my family had said they would gather this morning to discuss the previous night’s assassination attempt on my life when I told them whathappened on my return. We tried to get to the bottom of it the previous night, but our men needed more time. My mind races with thoughts of the evening in front of us, how I’m about to crush the fabric of my family’s belief system by conspiring to save Carlotta and her loved ones, but I try to cast my mind away from the enmity between the Mancinis and the D’Amicis.

My mind races with thoughts of the impending transaction and the assassination attempt from last night. I'm acutely aware that there are enemies at every turn, ready to tear apart everything I've built. The weight of responsibility presses down on me like a thousand tons, threatening to crush me beneath its burden.

"Focus," I tell myself, clenching my fists at my sides. "You can only deal with one thing at a time."

I stride down the corridors of our mansion, my steps quick and purposeful.

As I approach my father's office, I steel myself for what’s ahead. Through the voices, I can tell my brother, sister, and father have already gathered to discuss the events of last night – a conversation I know will be fraught with tension.

"Ah, Ettore," my father says as I enter the room, his voice heavy with worry. I can see the concern etched into the lines of his face, as he takes in the sight of me, safe and sound.

"Father," I reply gently, nodding in acknowledgement.

"Did you sleep well, brother?" my brother, Davide, asks, his dark eyes narrowed in worry. He may be younger than me, but he's no stranger to the dangers we face daily. Any of us could be wiped off the earth at any given moment.

"A little troubled," I answer, my voice cold and devoid of emotion so as to not worry him further. "But rest assured, I won't let last night go unanswered. Now, what do we know?"

"Who could have ordered such an attack?" my sister, Laura, muses, her voice betraying her own fear. She tries to hide it behind a façade of strength, but I can see the strain in her eyes.

"Anyone with a grudge," I reply, my mind already racing through a list of potential culprits. "But we'll find them and make them pay."

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