Page 21 of Mafia Don's Twisted Union

Carlito’s jaw tightens. “Leo will investigate. In the meantime, I’ll make sure security around you is doubled.”

“I don’t think he’s here for the gala,” I say softly, the fear creeping back into my voice. “It felt... personal.”

Carlito’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the usual guardedness in his expression gives way to something softer. “You’re safe here,” he says, his voice a shade gentler.

And then, before I can think better of it, I step forward, seeking the reassurance I so desperately need. My hands brush against his chest, and he doesn’t pull away.

“Mia...”

His voice is a warning, but I barely hear it. The fear, the tension, the weight of everything crash over me at once, and for a fleeting second, I let myself feel protected.

Carlito’s arms instinctively come around me, strong and steady, as if shielding me from the weight of the world. For a moment, I allow myself to lean into his embrace, letting his presence ground me. The sharp edges of fear and uncertainty fade, replaced by a warmth I don’t dare name.

“You’re safe, Mia,” he murmurs, his voice low and reassuring.

The words, so simple yet so charged, unravel something inside me. I close my eyes briefly, letting myself believe it. In his arms, the chaos of the moment dims, and I feel like nothing can touch me.

But then reality creeps back in. My cheeks flush as I pull away, the heat of embarrassment replacing the comfort I’d felt just seconds ago.

“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head and taking a step back. “I didn’t mean to... I just—”

Carlito raises a hand, cutting off my apology. “Don’t.” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge of authority that stops me cold. “You’ve been through enough. There’s no need to explain.”

I nod, clutching my notebook against my chest like a shield. “Thank you. For... everything.”

He studies me for a moment, his dark eyes unreadable. “Mia,” he says, his tone shifting to something softer, almost hesitant. “If you ever feel unsafe, you call me. No hesitation. Understand?”

I swallow hard, nodding. “I understand.”

Before either of us can say more, the door swings open, and Leo steps inside. His sharp gaze flickers between Carlito and me, lingering for a fraction of a second before landing squarely on Carlito.

“Sir,” Leo says, his voice crisp and professional. “I’ve already started looking into the matter. Security cameras in the Venetian should have caught something.”

Carlito gives a short nod, the commanding aura I’ve come to associate with him snapping back into place. “Good. I want to know who he is, why he’s here, and how he got close to Mia without anyone stopping him.”

Leo nods. “I’ll update you as soon as I have something concrete.”

Carlito turns back to me, his expression softening slightly. “I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

The certainty in his voice is comforting, but it also makes me wonder—how far will he go to ensure that? There’s a quiet intensity in Carlito that both reassures and unsettles me, as if he’s capable of things I can’t quite imagine.

“I trust you,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

Carlito holds my gaze for a beat longer than necessary, his lips curving into the faintest semblance of a smile. “Good.”

Leo clears his throat. “If you’re ready, we can head to the surveillance room.”

Carlito nods, gesturing toward the door. “Stay here for now, Mia. I’ll handle this.”

I hesitate, wanting to argue, but the steel in his gaze tells me it’s not a request. “Alright,” I finally say, my voice quiet.

As the two men leave, the door closing firmly behind them, I let out a shaky breath. The room feels bigger, emptier, without Carlito’s presence. I glance at the papers scattered across the table, but my focus is elsewhere.

The stranger’s parting words replay in my mind, chilling and cryptic:“Nothing is what it seems. Including your oh-so-perfect world here at the Venetian.”

Who was he? And why did he feel so familiar, as though he’d been watching me long before today?

I sit down and grip my pen tightly, forcing myself to write down notes for the gala. But my thoughts drift, and no matter how hard I try to focus, one thing is clear.

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