Page 82 of The Don's Soulmate

And suddenly, overwhelming fear rains over me. I can’t help but think of the countless lifetimes I’ve loved and lost. I couldn’t possibly relive the curse again. My entire body hurts, to think of him being ripped away from me once again.

"Promise me," I ask, my words rushed with urgency, my fingers tracing circles on his forearm wrapped around me, "promise me that this time will be different. That we'll survive whatever comes our way, survive whoever tries to come between us again."

Ettore presses a soft kiss to my shoulder, his breath warm against my skin. "I promise, Carlotta. Nothing and no one will tear us apart again. Our bond is stronger than anything the universe has thrown at us before. I know for I just feel it, in my very bones."

I turn my head to meet his gaze, searching for any hint of doubt or fear in those endless blue eyes. Instead, I find only fierce determination and a love that burns brighter than the sun.

"Swear it," I whisper, needing to hear the words that will cement our commitment to each other and our shared destiny.

"Per l'eternità," he swears solemnly, his voice steady and unwavering. "I will fight for us until the end of time. Lifetimes of horror have trained me just for this. All that loss, it couldn’t have been for nothing," he says, with wild passion and pain. “It had to have meant something. And in this lifetime, I will put an end to our wretched curse.”

Wrapped in his arms, I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart – a soothing lullaby that chases away the shadows of my past.

"Thank you," I whisper, struggling to express the overwhelming gratitude that fills me.

"Non c'è bisogno di ringraziarmi" -There's no need to thank me- he murmurs, his fingers gently stroking my hair. "I would do anything for you, mia anima" -my soul.

As I drift into a peaceful slumber, safe in Ettore's embrace, I know that I have finally found my true home – the place where my heart belongs, forever bound to his.

Chapter 38

Ettore

The sun slowly rises, casting warm rays of light across the room. I wake up wrapped in Ettore's strong arms, his hard body pressed against my back. Contentment washes over me, and I feel the safest I've ever felt. Yet anxiety gnaws in my belly since I didn’t sleep well last night.

I stayed awake, tossing and turning, wondering what it meant to love someone truly. Was love ownership? Did love give me the right to steal him away from his life, from the people who loved him and raised him just right?

No.

We have responsibilities to those who made us who we are. And it is exactly because of my love for Ettore that I know it’s my duty to remind him of that.

I roll over to face him, taking in his chiseled features softened by sleep. "Ettore," I whisper, caressing his stubbled cheek. His ice-blue eyes flutter open, and he smiles, pulling me closer until I’m snuggled into his chest.

He gently runs his hands through my hair over and over again, threatening to lull me back to sleep. But I’ve got more on my mind.

“What is it, cara mia?” he asks, in that devastatingly lazy voice he uses in bed, which makes my legs all wobbly.

"We should contact Sofia," I say gently. I know you're worried about being tracked, but she must be so concerned."

Ettore's body tenses. "Your father probably has her bugged six ways to Sunday."

"You're right," I reply, and after a moment’s hesitation, I put my thoughts out there about the situation at hand. "But what about contacting your father instead? He must be worried sick, too."

He hesitates, his brow furrowing with what looks like mild anger, as he gently pushes me away to sit upright against the bed. I, too, sit up, resting my back against the pillows, watching him carefully.

“My father,” he says, a statement in and of itself, with nothing more to add to it.

“Yes,” I say, the frustration clear from now snipped my tone. “Your father. Remember? The man who raised you, sheltered you, loves you?”

“He’ll have nothing good to say to me,” Ettore bristles. “He was furious when I wanted to fight for you, Carlotta. Don’t you understand? He’ll never get why I did what I had to.”

“Perhaps,” I say, assertively. “But that’s only because he feared for your safety, Ettore. He’s probably unable to sleep, thinking of where you are, whether you’re dead in a ditch somewhere. Just imagine how traumatic your disappearance must be on him and your brother and sister.”

“What if our calls are traced?” he grumbles.

“Now, Ettore Mancini,” I raise my voice at him, probably for the first time in our lives. He looks over at me with a sudden jerk, surprise etched on his face. “Don’t you dare tell me that your father, one of the strongest mafia dons, doesn’t have adequate security measures? I might be many things, but naïve isn’t one of them!”

Ettore's jaw clenches, betraying his reluctance. He considers my suggestion for a moment before sighing in resignation, followed by a chuckle. "Alright, if you insist. He does have ways of speaking securely."

---