The Don’s Soulmate

14. Ugo Caputo

Chapter 14

Ugo Caputo

The heavy brass knocker thuds against the heavy wood of the door, echoing through the early evening like a gunshot. Salvatore D'Amici welcomes me himself. He smiles wearily, and I hold back a chuckle. The old man is nervous, but he’s trying to hide it. I take in his posture, straight-backed and shoulders squared, clearly attempting to maintain an air of authority.

But I know better. Had he been confident about this deal, he would have sent his men to escort me in. He needs this deal; even willing to marry off his only daughter to make it happen. After all, it isn’t easy to come by billions overnight. How ironic though, that I stand to gain the most from this merger.

"Ugo," he greets me, his voice strained. "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise, Salvatore," I reply, stepping inside the lavish home without waiting for an invitation. Angelo stands behind his father. I nod in his direction as I pass him for the living room. The father and son duo follow right behind.

“A drink, Ugo?” Salvatore offers. “While my daughter gets dressed?”

“Why not?” I say, jovially, and take a seat while Salvatore pours three scotches. His maid serves them to us. I give her a thorough once over. Is that a faint blush I see on those cute chubby cheeks – I bet she is a squealer. I savor the taste of the scotch as it burns down my throat. Already this evening has kicked off on a promising note.

Salvatore clears his throat, his eyes meeting mine with nervous reluctance. "Ugo," he begins, his voice firm yet laced with a hint of unease. "Carlotta’s behavior this morning…I assure you; she is agreeable to the wedding. She is just nervous, being so young. Maybe giving her a period of adjustment, just until she finds her feet…”

I smile, an insincere expression that barely touches my eyes. "Of course, I understand your concern," I interject, " but she’s not that young. Twenty-four, I believe. My mother wed at eighteen."

“Times have changed,” Salvatore tries to explain.

“You’re certain there is no other significant man in her life?” I ask, aiming to sow just enough doubt to make them realize that I could walk away at any point in these negotiations. Once they fear that, Carlotta’s father will handle her disobedience, and I’ll have a sweet, compliant bride. I have no patience for theatrics. The quieter and more obedient she is, the better.

“We never allowed her,” Angelo jumps into defense mode while Salvatore’s hand grips tighter around his drink. “Whether there were men in the past or not, I promise Signor Caputo, that my sister is prepared to be your wife in every aspect. You have no need for any concern.”

“Good, good,” I say casually. “I certainly hope so. Besides, there will be plenty occasions before the wedding for her to prove herself.”

Angelo and Salvatore exchange nervous looks, soaking in my words. I hold back a smile, pretending everything I said stemmed from the innocent desire to confide in the men who know my soon-to-be bride the best.

Just then, the doors open and she enters the room. Carlotta is a vision to behold - raven black hair falls gracefully down her back, framing her delicate face and those striking green eyes that could make any man fall to his knees. She's youthful, innocent, and entirely too beautiful for this world. I allow myself a moment to admire her, my gaze lingering on her soft curves, her full breasts and slender waist.

"Carlotta," I address her, making sure my voice is firm, authoritative. She trembles slightly under my gaze, her defiance shining through. It excites me, knowing I'll have the opportunity to get her under my control soon enough.

"Ugo," she replies softly, her voice barely audible. I can tell she's scared, and that feels powerful. This little princess is slowly learning her place, and I'm more than happy to continue giving her the lessons she needs.

"Shall we go, then?" I ask Carlotta with false kindness. She hesitates, her green eyes flickering between her father, brother, and me. Salvatore and Angelo exchange concerned glances, but they know better than to interfere now. They want me to believe she actually wishes to marry me.

Yet, I’m no fool. I know she wants nothing to do with me, and that is why this hunt is all the more fun. I’ll break her spirit sooner or later, until she refuses to breathe without my permission.

"Of course," Carlotta answers at last, looking back at me when her father frowns in her direction. I can't help but let my eyes roam over her body once more. That dress, it’s cut so low, that I wish for gravity to play her tricks, to reveal a little more. Soon, she'll be mine to see naked, but in the meantime, I fully intend to enjoy the journey of getting her there.

"Very well," I say, offering her my arm. As she takes it, I can't help but tighten my grip ever so slightly, just enough to make her wince. We leave the house together, my gaze lingering on her father and brother as the door closes behind us.

"Your dress is lovely," I comment as we walk towards my car. Her cheeks flush with color, and she looks away, clearly uncomfortable.

"Thank you," she mumbles, her voice barely audible. I smirk, enjoying the way she squirms under my scrutiny.

"Tell me, Carlotta," I begin, my voice low and dangerous as we slide into the car. "Do you have any idea how important this alliance is for our families? How much power it will bring your family’s way?" My eyes bore into her, daring her to challenge me.

She swallows hard, her body tense as she nods. "Yes, I understand," she whispers, trying to maintain her composure. I can tell she's scared, unsure of how to resist my control.

The hum of the car engine fills the silence as we drive away from Carlotta's house. My convoy follows. Tonight, I didn’t want any spectators to our conversation. Besides, I want to show her that life with me can be… private too. That as a couple, we’d have plenty of time alone.

My fingers caress the steering wheel,

"Your family seems... happy about our union," I say, allowing a hint of mockery to creep into my voice. She looks at me with wide, fearful eyes before quickly averting her gaze.

"Y-yes, they believe it's for the best," she replies, her voice shaking slightly. Little does she know that her days of playing the princess and being pampered and forgiven are numbered. Once we're married, she'll be mine to discipline as I see fit.

As the car speeds down the road, I can't help but think about the true purpose of this marriage. It's not about love or even lust – it's about power. Salvatore's criminal empire has been growing steadily, and by marrying his daughter, I will secure a powerful alliance that will grant me access to new contacts and resources. Offshore accounts, smuggling routes, protection rackets – all will fall under our combined control.

"Have you ever been involved in any... business dealings?" I ask her, curious to see how much she knows about her father's world.

She hesitates, biting her lip nervously. "No, my father always kept me away from that side of things."

"Smart man," I chuckle darkly, thinking of all the ways I could use her naiveté to my advantage. "And he’s right. It’s no place for a woman. Besides, I hear you enjoy art. Now, that’s an exciting hobby.”

Carlotta shudders at my use of the word hobby, and I can see that she's annoyed by how I’ve reduced her career so. And yet, I can't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction at doing that.

"Try to relax, Carlotta," I tell her, reaching over to pat her thigh in what I hope appears to be a comforting gesture. "Once we're married, you'll see that everything will fall into place."

Her breath hitches at my touch, and she nods, offering me a weak smile.

The candles flicker, casting cozy shadows across the bustling restaurant. She glances up at me now and then from in between perusing the menu, which she asked to see.

I pour her a glass of champagne. “I suggest you try the salmon,” I tell her. “It’s quite good.”

She hesitates, but then looks in my direction and closes the menu. “Why not?” she says.

I nod and place our orders. A steak, rare for me. The salmon for her.

“How’s the champagne?” I ask.

“Delicious,” she almost whispers, forcing back a sip.

“Don’t worry,” I joke. “There’s no women we’re bound to bang into tonight.”

I see a small frown between her eyebrows, and she doesn’t laugh.

“I hope you understand,” I continue. “It meant nothing. You do, don’t you? I can’t be marrying a woman who doesn’t trust me.”

“Yes, I understand,” she says flatly, picking up her glass and finishing it. I pour her another one.

“So, tell me, was it terrifying when that man shot your brother?”

She sucks in the air, unsure of where to look. She stares at her hands and nods.

“You should know,” I tell her. “When we’re married, you’d be safe in our home. You’ll never be alone, inside or when out. There will never be a situation whereby an enemy can weasel his way in.”

I see the doubt in her eyes,. I know what she’s thinking. Probably still blaming me for what happened that night. But what she doesn’t realize is that he was the enemy. I did nothing wrong in laying a claim on my fiancé.

Our food arrives. She looks down at her plate, her fingers trembling as she forks the salmon. I reach over and cover her hand with mine, squeezing gently.

"It's okay, Carlotta," I say softly, my voice low and soothing. "We're just having a meal, nothing more."

She pulls her hand away and her green eyes dart around the room, like a caged animal searching for an escape. But there is none – not from me, not from our union.

“Have you thought about the ring?” I try to make her feel more comfortable, though I’m furious within. Her prima donna behavior, wanting to be pleaded with and begged to, won’t fly with me once we’re married.

“No, I haven’t,” she shakes her head.

“Of course it’ll be a huge diamond. I’m thinking six carats. Anything less is useless on those pretty fingers. Besides, people would expect Ugo Caputo to gift his wife something insane. Do you like clear diamonds? Colored? I’ve heard all the ladies drool over the pink ones now.”

At last, she looks up at me, her doe-shaped eyes fixed on mine. “I’d be happy with whatever my husband chooses to gift me,” she says.

“Good,” I slam the table jubilantly, and she almost jumps out of the chair. “We’ll get you the biggest, baddest diamond Rome’s ever seem. Il mondo combatterà per intravedere." - The world will fight to catch a glimpse.

I expect her to be excited, thrilled, to ask where I’d source the diamond from, how it’d be set. But instead, she just nods like a half-dead kitten and goes back to eating in silence. Except, she doesn’t really eat as much as toy around with her fork.

"Is everything to your liking, Carlotta?" I ask, feigning concern while silently annoyed at the sight of her squirming in her seat. She nods, but her silence speaks volumes. Defiance. Disrespect. Inwardly, I cherish the thought of breaking her, molding her into the perfect wife – one who knows her place and obeys without question. One who ensures I don’t get bored in her company.

"Carlotta," I begin, sensing her unease and deciding to toy with her a bit more, "is the food to your liking? We can order something else."

Her eyes widen at my words, as if surprised by my sudden display of consideration. But she doesn’t let her guard down.

"Um, no, everything is...fine," she stammers, forcing a smile onto her face. "Thank you, Ugo."

"Of course, my dear," I reply, my voice dripping with false sincerity. "Your happiness is important to me, after all. If there’s anything else you’d like to do, anything at all, please do let me know."