Page 20 of Mafia Don's Twisted Union

“Ms. Caruso?” A voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

I look up to see a man standing at the edge of the room. He doesn’t belong here. Dressed in a dark suit, his posture is casual but his eyes... there’s something unsettling in them.

“Yes?” I reply, keeping my tone professional as I stand.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your discussion with the florist,” he says smoothly, his lips curving into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You have quite an eye for detail.”

“Thank you,” I say cautiously, instinctively taking a step back. “Are you with one of the vendors?”

“Not exactly,” he replies, his gaze lingering on me in a way that sends a shiver down my spine. “Let’s just say I have a personal interest in events like this. Particularly... the people involved.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. There’s no way this man stumbled into this meeting room by accident. I glance toward the door, hoping one of the staff might intervene, but it’s empty save for the two of us.

“I’m sorry, but this is a private meeting,” I say firmly. “If you’re not part of the event, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

The man tilts his head, his smile widening. “Of course. I just wanted to meet the woman behind all this. Mia Caruso, right? You have an interesting... history.”

My stomach twists, but I force myself to keep my expression neutral.How does he know my name?

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Not yet,” he says cryptically. “But I know you. More than you think.”

Before I can respond, he steps closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You might want to be careful, Ms. Caruso. Not everything—or everyone—is what they seem. Including your oh-so-perfect world here at the Venetian.”

He turns and walks out, leaving me frozen in place. My heart pounds in my chest, and the weight of his words sinks deep into my mind.

I stand motionless for a moment, his words echoing in my head like the lingering vibration of a struck bell.You might want to be careful, Ms. Caruso. Not everything—or everyone—is what they seem.

The door swings shut behind the stranger, breaking the spell. My breath catches as I glance around the room, searching for any sign that someone else might have witnessed the bizarre encounter. But the space is empty, save for the stack of proposals and the perfectly arranged vase of flowers at the center of the table.

I grab my phone with trembling fingers, hesitating for only a second before dialing the one person I trust in this moment. Carlito.

The line clicks, and his deep voice answers almost immediately. “Mia?”

“Are you still in the building?” I blurt out, my voice sharper than intended.

“Yes,” he replies, his tone shifting into something colder, more alert. “What’s wrong?”

“I—I think someone just tried to intimidate me.” I glance at the door again, half-expecting the stranger to return. “He knew my name. He knew... things. Personal things.”

There’s a brief silence on the other end before Carlito speaks, his voice calm but edged with steel. “Where are you now?”

“The vendor meeting room, second floor,” I reply.

“I’m on my way. Don’t move.”

The call ends abruptly, leaving me clutching the phone to my chest. I exhale slowly, trying to steady my racing heart, but every creak of the floor outside the room makes me jump. I don’t know who that man was, but his presence felt calculated, deliberate, and far too personal.

A few tense minutes later, the door opens—not with the slow, eerie creak I feared but with Carlito’s sharp, purposeful stride.His commanding presence immediately fills the space, and relief washes over me like a tidal wave.

His eyes sweep the room, scanning for any sign of danger. “Tell me everything,” he says, his voice low and firm.

I recount the encounter as succinctly as possible, focusing on the stranger’s cryptic words and his unnerving demeanor. Carlito listens in silence, his expression growing darker with every detail.

When I finish, he steps closer, his presence grounding me in a way I can’t explain. “Did he say his name?”

I shake my head. “No, but he knew mine. He acted like... like he knows me. Or something about me.”

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