Page 93 of The Don's Soulmate

"Ettore...?" I whisper, my mind reeling with confusion. “What’s going on? Where’s Carlotta? Why the hell would you have me kidnapped?”

“This was the only safe way to touch base,” he explains, walking behind the chair. I feel the ropes give way, pull my hands in front, and rub away the soreness while he undoes my feet.

The sound of the warehouse door slamming open startles me again, and I instinctively recoil, my heart pounding in my chest, though I look ahead.

"Carlotta!" I gasp, relief flooding through me as I see my best friend standing in the doorway, her green eyes wide with concern. She scans the dimly lit room, taking in the scene before her – Ettore, me, and the remnants of my restraints.

"Thank god you're okay," she breathes, rushing towards me. "I've been so worried."

"Carlotta, what's going on?" I ask, my voice trembling. My fear hasn't completely disappeared, but seeing her gives me a renewed sense of hope and peace.

I know I am safe, but more importantly, that she’s safe.

“I’ll explain everything,” she explains in a hurry, helping me up to my feet before placing her arm around my shoulders. She and Ettore look left and right before making way for the door with me planted in between. “But first,” she whispers as Ettore opens the door and looks out. “We have to get out of here unnoticed.”

Chapter 43

Carlotta

I observe Sofia taking in the cramped motel room we now call home. Her eyes sweep over the peeling wallpaper, the dingy bed sheets, and the single flickering light bulb that barely illuminates our surroundings. She turns to me, her brown eyes clouded with worry.

"Carlotta, what's going on? Why are you living like this?" she asks, probably hurt at how the mighty have fallen.

I open my mouth and close it again, not knowing where to start.

“Fuck that,” my best friend rushes over, taking my hands in her own. “Why haven’t you contacted me? After the heist, I was worried sick when your father called. I thought you would at least update me, considering how…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but I can hear the pain in her voice and know what she meant to say. Considering how she was instrumental in orchestrating it all, I can understand why we’ve diminished her role in our story by not keeping her in the loop.

“Sof,” I tell her. “I’ve been thinking about you every single moment. But, Ettore thought your phone could be tapped. Ugo and my father probably expected that I’d reach out to you if no one else.”

Sofia's eyes widen with realization. "You're right. They would have expected me to be a weak link. That's clever of Ettore," she acknowledges, a hint of admiration in her voice.

I glance over at Ettore, who's been silently watching our conversation, his expression unreadable as usual.

“So, what happened after that night?” Sofia asks. “Did you get the art?”

“We did,” Ettore nods. “All the art is secure in a warehouse my family owns.”

“And now?” her eyes move between both of us.

Taking a deep breath, I brace myself to reveal the truth. "Sofia, Ettore and I... we're in love. We've decided to leave our old lives behind because we know our families will never accept us together."

Her eyes widen slightly, but she doesn't look entirely surprised. Perhaps she had sensed the connection between Ettore and me all along.

"From the moment I met Ettore," I continue, "I knew he was different. There's something about him that draws me in and makes me feel safe and loved in ways I never thought possible. I know this sounds insane, but if I can’t be with Ettore, I can’t be with anyone else."

Sofia takes a moment to process my words, her gaze shifting from me to Ettore, who stands silently by the window, his blue eyes locked on mine.

"Carlotta, you deserve happiness, and if Ettore is the one who can give that to you, I'll support you both no matter what," she says softly, placing a reassuring hand on my arm. "You've always been there for me, and I won't abandon you now. Tell me, what is it you need?"

“Oh, Sof,” I say, tears pooling in my eyes. I might not have family, but I haveher. And that is more than enough.

Ettore moves gracefully to the small table in the corner, a bottle of whiskey in hand. He pours three glasses and brings them over to us, handing us each one.

"Thank you," Sofia murmurs softly, taking the glass from Ettore with a nod. She turns her full attention back to me, her brown eyes filled with empathy and understanding. It's remarkablehow she can stand by my side so unconditionally, even when faced with the dangerous reality of our situation.

It’s not just our lives that are in danger; by associating with us, hers is, too.

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