Page 11 of Mafia Don's Twisted Union

I blink at his response, startled by the rawness in his words. Carlito has always seemed untouchable—so composed, so in control. Yet here, on this terrace overlooking the city, there’s a crack in his armor. It’s fleeting, but enough to glimpse the man beneath the power.

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” I admit.

“You wouldn’t have,” he says, his gaze flicking back to me. “That’s not a criticism, Mia. It’s just reality. You’ve lived in a world where events like this are celebrations. For me, they’re statements—reminders of who is the best.”

I feel a knot form in my stomach, a strange combination of unease and intrigue. Carlito’s words are layered with a significance I can’t fully grasp, and yet I’m drawn to them. To him.

“Well, if that’s the case,” I say, trying to inject a lighter note into the conversation, “then we’d better make sure this statement is unforgettable.”

His lips quirk into something that might almost be a smile. “That’s why you’re here.”

As he says it, his tone softens just enough to send a ripple of warmth through me. It’s not quite approval, but it’s closer than I’ve gotten before.

We resume walking along the terrace, the sound of our footsteps echoing faintly against the stone tiles. I point out potential layout ideas, suggesting where guests could mingle and how to arrange the seating to highlight the view.

Carlito listens intently, occasionally asking pointed questions that challenge my reasoning. Each time, I hold my ground, and with every answer I give, his expression shifts slightly—less skeptical, more thoughtful.

When we reach the far end of the terrace, he stops again, his gaze sweeping over the space. “The Venetian Rooftop Terrace,” he says, almost to himself.

I turn to him, heart pounding. “So... does that mean this is the venue?”

He glances at me, his dark eyes unreadable. For a moment, I’m certain he’s about to dismiss the idea entirely. Then, with a nod, he says, “It is. I prefer it to Caesar’s Palace. Make it work.”

Relief washes over me, and I can’t help the smile that breaks across my face. “Thank you. I promise you won’t regret this.”

His gaze lingers on me a moment longer, and there’s something almost... unguarded in it. Then he turns back toward the skyline.

As Carlito turns to leave, I linger for a moment, taking in the breathtaking view. The weight of his words still clings to the air, and I can’t help but feel like there’s more to this gala—and to Carlito—than I initially understood.

When I turn back, he’s watching me, his expression unreadable. There’s a subtle shift in the atmosphere, something electric that makes my pulse quicken.

“You’re good at this,” he says, breaking the silence.

I blink, caught off guard by the rare compliment. “Thank you. I’ve worked hard to get here.”

“I can tell,” he replies, his voice low and deliberate. “But hard work only gets you so far. Success requires more than effort—it demands vision, conviction.”

The intensity in his gaze sends a shiver down my spine. “I have vision,” I say, holding his stare.

His lips quirk in that faint, almost-smile that I’m starting to recognize. “We’ll see.”

He starts walking again, and I fall into step beside him. As we near the terrace exit, Leo steps forward, his sharp eyes darting between us before settling back into his stoic stance. The reminder of Carlito’s ever-present security should feelreassuring, but instead, it adds to the tension simmering just beneath the surface.

Carlito stops near the doorway and turns to me. “Tomorrow, you’ll meet me at my penthouse. We’ll finalize the gala plans.”

“Of course,” I reply, already flipping through my mental checklist of tasks to prepare.

He steps closer, his presence filling the space between us. The scent of his cologne—warm and dark—makes my breath hitch.

“Mia,” he says, his voice softer now, almost intimate. “In my penthouse tomorrow, I will truly know if you’re ready for this.”

The way he says it sends a jolt of something undeniable through me. It’s not just the words, but the way his eyes linger on mine, heavy with meaning.

I nod, my throat suddenly dry. “I’ll be ready.”

His gaze flicks down to my lips for the briefest moment before he steps back. “Good.”

With that, he turns and strides toward the exit, Leo falling into step behind him. I exhale a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my heart pounding as I watch him leave.

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