Page 95 of The Don's Soulmate

On the highway, I sense Carlotta's anxiety rising. I place a protective arm around her, feeling an overwhelming need to shield her from any harm. She leans into me, her warmth seeping into my very soul.

The road stretches out before us, a seemingly endless path shrouded in darkness. The only illumination comes from the headlights of passing cars, casting fleeting shadows across our own vehicle. My grip tightens on the seat, the leather creaking beneath my fingers.

"Almost there," Sofia murmurs, her eyes locked on the road ahead. "Just another hour or so."

"Good," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady for Carlotta's sake. She's curled up against me, her breaths shallow and uneven. I can sense her fear, but she's doing her best to hide it. We're all on edge, knowing that every moment we spend on the road increases the likelihood of being caught.

One police checkpoint, and we’re screwed.

"Carlotta," I whisper, brushing my fingers through her hair. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm scared, Ettore," she admits quietly, her voice trembling. "But I trust you. And Sofia."

"That’s good," I say, pulling her closer. My heart swells with love and protectiveness for this woman who has become my entire world.

"Alright," Sofia announces suddenly, slowing down the car. "We're going to make a quick stop at this market to grab some supplies. You two stay here. I’ll get everything you'll need."

A flickering neon sign casts an eerie glow on Sofia's face as she steps out of the car. We know we must remain hidden, so we slide down onto the floor, huddling together behind the seats.

"Stay low," I instruct Carlotta, my voice low and urgent. "And stay quiet."

"Yes," she whispers, her breath warm against my neck.

I can feel the beat of her heart, as rapid and frantic as my own.

From our hidden vantage point on the car floor, Carlotta and I watch through the tinted windows as Sofia moves swiftly through the aisles of the small market. Her eyes scan the shelves with precision, selecting the necessary supplies without hesitation.

The minutes drag on like hours, but finally, Sofia emerges from the store, her arms laden with bags filled with groceries, food, and medicines. I suppress a sigh of relief as she approaches the car, her stride confident and purposeful. My eyes flicker with gratitude at the sight, knowing that Sofia's resourcefulness is our lifeline. If not for her help, Carlotta and I were fucked.

"Everything went smoothly?" I ask as Sofia opens the back door and puts the bags in. She nods and looks around, closing the door behind her before moving ahead to slide back into the driver's seat.

"Smooth as silk," she replies, tossing some more bags into the passenger seat next to her. "I got everything we'll need for now."

She reaches into one of the bags and pulls out three small boxes. My eyes widen in recognition—burner phones. These untraceable devices will provide a crucialmeans of communication and anonymity, ensuring lines of communication remain open with Sofia, whose help we will very much need in days to come.

"Thanks, Sofia," I say, reaching for the phones with excitement so I can set up during our drive ahead. "These will be invaluable."

"Right," she replies, her eyes glinting. "We can't be too careful these days."

As Carlotta examines the other goods in the bags lying in the back, her fingers tracing the edges of the items, she suddenly gasps and clutches her heart. Her green eyes widen with a mix of surprise and fear, and she looks at me questioningly.

Worried, I put the phones down and reach for her hands. “Carlotta,” I ask nervously. “What's wrong?”

Chapter 45

Carlotta

Sofia stares at me through the rear-view mirror, and I sit there, frozen, still clutching my heart. "Are you okay?" Ettore asks again, staring at me with worried eyes, his hands on mine.

I want to say I’m fine, but my mind is elsewhere. I push aside his hand and ignoring Ettore's question, rummage through the bag in the backseat, pulling out a box of tampons. As I stare at it, turning it over again and again in my hands, my brain works on overdrive.

My heart begins to pound against my ribcage. If it could, it would break my bones.

Four months. Four months since my last period.

How did I not notice?

My hands tremble and I drop the box of tampons. Ettore’s eyes narrow. In the rear-view mirror, I see Sofia pale.

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