Page 3 of The Don's Proposal

Pictures. Even if it means filling up my storage, I need to snap as many as possible. I can’t let my hands shake this badly unless I want blurry images.

Picking up my phone, I barely hit the correct app before the door to the office opens with no warning.

The noise wasn’tthatloud, I’m sure of it. Yet, I’ve been discovered.

Not by some guard with a gun, or a chef with a knife, but by the man who knows this office and all its secrets.

Santino Bertelli.

Of all the dangerous people in this building, it couldn’t be anyone else but him.

And now, I’m going to die.Great.

2

Santino

Despite the night being one of the most boring and forgettable, I’d finally found a spark of excitement when I spotted this woman slipping off somewhere she shouldn’t be.

I shouldn’t have bothered myself by being the one to follow her, but the thought of someone else telling me about a new purchase, or an update on a family matter, or whatever the fuck that Aloise bastard was going on and on about made my feet move on their own.

I could have stopped her at any point, but I kept my distance and stalked her silently.

Maybe it was the smell trailing behind her that mixed up my priorities. Something sweet that made my mouth water. Or, it was that quick glimpse of caramel-colored hair that caught the light at the right angle before she dipped into the darkness.

Normally, women don’t call out to me. Not like this. However, my steps felt more fueled by desire than with worries of what she could be after.

Could she be trying to seek one of my men, lure them into the shadows to release pent up energy? It’s happened before. Many times, actually. I’ve lost count of how many pairs of lace underwear I find littering my garden after these gatherings. Even now, if I stop and listen, I’m willing to bet I’ll hear the distant sounds of moans.

However, all it took was her rushing to hide to reveal her true goal. Rather than someone, she’s aftersomething.

Those little telltale frustrated sighs told an entire story. The closer and closer she came to my office, the more it made sense. Instead of going straight to me to get what she wants, she’d rather dig deep for information.

It’s a good thing too, because the sweet scent up close may have truly dulled my senses.

I gave her a two-minute head start once she slipped inside my office. Enough time to catch her in the act to give me the answers to the questions building in my mind.

Now, this little intruder is looking at me like a deer caught in headlights. She immediately lifts her hands and surrenders without warning. Her skin pales instantly, her chest heaving from what I guess is the start of a panic attack.

There’s a muffled thump. Whatever item she held must’ve fallen from her grip and hit the carpet below. It could have been a paperweight, for all I know. Or it could’ve been a weapon that slipped from her grip.

No one wanders into this room unless they have a death wish. Even if one of my guests drinks too many glasses, my office is too deep into my home to mistake for something else accidentally. Off limits to all but myself and those I invite inside.

This little bird got herself caught in the lion’s den. From the way her eyes dart around, she knows it too.

“Do you know who I am?” My question spills from my lips slowly, like a deep sigh after an exhausting day.

Very few outside of my world can say they do. Unlike many people at my party, she looks like she has never received an invitation. From her nervous swallow, I am left to wonder why I’ve never encountered her before. If she’s familiar with my life, why does her face seem completely foreign?

I hate not having an answer to an unsolvable question. It makes me want to pick at my brain and dig until I can pull out something satisfying. With each second passing by like a lifetime, I’m sure I can find the time to pluck out some sort of memory. However, I’m confident I won’t find anything.

I couldn’t possibly mistake her for someone else. Her appearance is unforgettable. I’ve already burned her to memory.

Is there a point, though? Will I see her again after today, or will this be a one-time meeting with a devastating goodbye?

If I want to get my hands on her, and that much I do, I could easily wrap my fingers around her slim throat, and squeeze hard enough to hear her chirp. I bet I would feel her racing pulse against my fingertips.

Would she beg me to let her live?

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