The Don’s Soulmate

20. Ugo Caputo

Chapter 20

Ugo Caputo

I wake up late and stretch, the hand nearly knocking over the glass of scotch I brought to bed last night. Must have forgotten about it.

“Damn it,” I grunt, sitting up to ring for my butler.

“Sir,” he arrives shortly after, my breakfast and paper on a tray in front of him.

“Clean this mess up,” I point to my wet bed, and step out of bed. He places the tray on my table, and helps me on with the robe. “Hurry.”

He gets down on the job and I settle in on a chair, picking the paper and sipping my coffee.

I almost spit it out when I see the headlines. There, right on the front page, is my photograph outside the gallery. They’ve chosen the worst out of the lot, the blood evident on my face, my shirt torn. That wretched Carlotta! If not for her, I’d never have looked this way.

The headlines scream "Verified: Notorious Billionaire Ugo Caputo Holds Secret Art Hoard: 23 Rare Masterpieces Including Works by Da Vinci, Van Gogh, and Picasso!"

I continue to read.

In a shocking revelation that has sent ripples through the art world, billionaire magnate Ugo Caputo has disclosed a jaw-dropping collection of 23 of the rarest and most valuable art pieces ever known. Hidden away in a secret vault for decades, this trove includes works by some of history’s greatest artists: Leonardo da Vinci’s enigmatic "The Life of An Artist," Vincent van Gogh’s vibrant "Stormy days," and Pablo Picasso’s revolutionary "Les Mademoiselles."

The discovery was made when Caputo, known for his flamboyance and theatric nature, accidentally revealed the collection while at a private art gallery viewing. It’s a gift from my future wife,” he said. “She wanted to give me what is most precious to her and art – it’s her life!”

I continue reading the article, shocked at the fact that they have the full list of art. What I own is my bloody business, and immediately, I’m filled with rage. I know what these ‘historians of history’ type of people are. They could come for my art. The charities will flock in, demanding just one piece for auction. For the good of the world, they’d tell me.

This is not good. While people might covet what I have, a trait I’ve always enjoyed watching in others, I do not need intrusion in my life. Not while Carlotta is out there, causing all this trouble, needing me to keep an eye on her. I have enemies to wipe off. Ettore to deal with.

“You,” I tell my butler, whose name I never get right, nor care to. “If any media calls, tell them to fuck off.”

“Yes, sir,” he says with a straight face.

“Say it just like that,” I throw the paper at him. “No need to be polite.”

He takes the paper and reads it, nodding at what I say.

With that done, I head over to the D’Amicis. I have a feeling there’s only one person who could have leaked this list. And I know just what she’s playing at.

The sound of Carlotta's muffled sobbing echoes through the hallway, and I can't help but smile. I insisted on meeting her father in his office to discuss the wedding arrangements for this reason alone. It’s on the same floor as the bedroom my blushing bride is confined to.

She’s been locked up for a week, and from the reports my guards received from the D’Amici ones stationed around the house, she’s not been too happy.

The lock clicks as I turn the key in Carlotta's door. I push it open, the hinges creaking, and step into the dim room. She’s got her curtains parted close, not letting in any sunlight.

She startles, looking up at me from the bed with wide doe eyes, clutching the thin blanket around her slender frame to hide her body, clad in a thin camisole. I smirk, enjoying the sight of her trapped here like an animal in a cage. This little bird is mine to control.

"Sleep well, my dear?" I ask in a mocking tone, my lips curling. She says nothing, merely shrinks back against the headboard. “I thought you must be bored and while you might be locked in here, you could use a visitor or two.”

I stride closer, reaching out to grasp her chin between my thick fingers. My fingers lightly graze her cheek, wiping away a tear before I bring it to my lips, savoring her salty despair. Her body flinches at my touch, and her eyes dart around the room with a desperate hope that she'll find some way to escape. But there is none. "You belong to me now, no matter how hard you try to make it otherwise."

She trembles under my touch but remains silent. “Did you read the papers this morning?” I ask.

She looks away, a flicker of guilt on her face. But shakes her head. I force her to meet my eyes.

“You thought you were so smart, weren’t you? By sending the journalists on my heels, you thought you could use this strategy to your benefit? I’m no fool Carlotta. I know exactly what you want.”

“Y…you do?” she stammers.

“In time, by focusing on how this collection was a gift from you, you’ve made known it was close to your heart. You’ve effectively made it impossible for me to sell it without looking like a heartless husband. What was that quote in the paper? Oh yes: It’s a gift from my future wife. She wanted to give me what is most precious to her and art – it’s her life! Now. How can a good husband ever sell what means the most to his wife? ”

The guilt is etched across her face. “Please,” she sits up now, letting the blanket fall down her without realizing. “What are you going to do?”

I savor the swell of her curves under her camisole. Those beautiful, creamy breasts. I take my finger, place it under the cloth, and she tries to pull away but I clutch her waist.

She gasps, looking up at me, pure terror in her eyes. I love that look on her.

“You see,” I curl my lip. “Now that I know you betrayed me to the media and tried to keep the collection with yourself in whatever distasteful manner, it might be a good time to let you know that I’ve never given a damn about what people think of me. The minute we’re wed, I shall sell each last piece. You will never see those paintings again, nor will you see a dime from what you spent buying that useless lot.

“No,” she gasps, trembling. I release her with a derisive snort and turn on my heel, locking the door behind me. Let her rot away in there, alone with her fear. She'll learn obedience soon enough.

I have more pressing matters to deal with. The wedding looms, and that meddling Ettore still lives, a thorn in my side. But not for long. Ettore Mancini must be eliminated – he poses too great a threat to my control over Carlotta and my growing influence within the Mafia. Always meddling and interfering where he doesn’t belong, rescuing her just as I’m about to laud out her punishment.

I reach into my pocket, pulling out my phone, and dial the one number I’ve come to trust in matters like these. They're the best in the business, and if anyone can ensure Ettore's demise, it's them.

"Vittorio," I growl into the phone. "I have a job for you and your brothers. Meet me at the abandoned warehouse on Via Degli Orfani in two hours. And remember, discretion as always."

"Understood, Caputo. We'll be there," the oldest replies with an icy calmness. This is going to be good.

I end the call, knowing that once Ettore is out of the picture, there will be no one left to challenge my authority, and she'll have no choice but to submit to me in every way.

I park my car and walk down a deserted path, my heavy steps echoing through the loading docks. The rendezvous point, an abandoned warehouse, comes into view. Dark and decrepit, it’s a structure that breathes sinister intent. I slip inside, the smell of damp and mold immediately assaulting my nostrils. Shafts of moonlight slice through broken windows, partially illuminating three shadowy figures waiting within.

My heart pounds in my chest, but it's not fear that grips me – it's pure, unadulterated excitement.

"Ah, there you are," a gravelly voice greets me, causing me to turn towards the source. The three assassins, clad in black, materialize from the shadows like wraiths. Their faces are obscured by masks, to protect against any unwanted footage being taken of them at this meeting point from government or private CCTV’s, adding an extra layer of cold detachment to their demeanor.

"Let's get straight to business," I say, my voice firm with authority. "I have reason to believe that Ettore Mancini is having an affair with my fiancé, Carlotta. This cannot stand. I want him eliminated."

"Understood," the tallest assassin Gianlo replies, his voice devoid of emotion. "We will take care of him for you."

I look at the three brothers. Vittorio, Leandro and Gianlo can be trusted to take any life. I know this, given our years of acquaintance.

After all, they’re the ones who took out my ex after she went blabbering to the paparazzi about all the torture she faced at my hands. Now, the world thinks the bitch is hiding out somewhere. I, on the other hand, know she’s rotting at the bottom of the Adriatic.

Pity. She was such a beauty.

"Ettore dies before he can disrupt my plans to wed her. I want his body in the river by week's end."

They murmur assent, accustomed to my demands. I know they will not fail me. Cold, precise, and loyal - I value these qualities in my employees.

"Tell me everything about the girl," the eldest assassin, Vittorio, says, his voice low and gravelly. "Her habits, friends, family - any details that may prove useful."

Of course. There are still missing pieces in this deadly puzzle. Information that only I can provide.

I nod, steepling my fingers in thought. "Carlotta is naive, far too trusting. Sheltered by her father, she knows little of the outside world."

My mind turns to her flawless mocha skin, full lips and damnable green eyes that see too much. Such exotic beauty, soon to be mine. The thought elicits a spark of possessive desire.

"She spends most days at home, or with some friends, or in galleries," I continue. "Her pursuit for a career in the art world gives her strength, misplaced as it is. She has few good friends beyond her friend Sofia. At the present, she’s under lock and key at her father’s mansion, given how she’s been running off with Ettore Mancini while she’s to wed me.”

The assassins listen intently, committing each detail to memory. The wheels are already turning, planning ways to exploit any vulnerability.

“Locked up, you said?” Leandro asks.

I nod.

“We need to be smart about this,” Gianlo adds. “We need to catch him off guard, perhaps use Carlotta as bait."

The assassins exchange glances, and Vittorio speaks up, reading his brothers minds. "We suggest allowing Carlotta to leave your house occasionally. It will make her an easy target for us to follow and gather intel on Ettore to make the hit. If there is something between them, they shall seek each other out."

"Now," Vittorio adds, his voice laced with experience and cunning. "To get closer to Carlotta, we could use her friend Sofia. I could gain her trust, learn more. She seems to be very close to her, and manipulating her may give us even more control over Carlotta."

My eyes narrow as I consider his proposal. It's true - Sofia is Carlotta's closest confidante, and gaining her loyalty would add another layer of security around my precious possession. "That could work," I muse aloud. "But you must be careful. Sofia is a smart woman, and she comes from a powerful business family. As white-collar as they get. Do not underestimate her."

"Understood," the old assassin nods, a sinister smile playing on his lips.

"Very well," I agree, already envisioning the moment when Ettore realizes he's walked right into my trap. "Just remember, be discreet and cautious. If any of you fail or get discovered, the consequences will be severe. I need the alliance for my empire to grow.”

“Here's what you need to know about Carlotta's circle," I add, pulling out a small notebook filled with detailed information about her family, friends, and cousins. I hand it over to the assassins, watching as they eagerly pore over its contents. "Use this to exploit any potential weaknesses. Remember, our ultimate goal is to eliminate Ettore Mancini and secure my control over Carlotta."

"Understood, Caputo," Vittorio replies.

As the assassins slip away into the night, I stand alone in the darkness, my mind filled with deliciously wicked thoughts. The game is on, and I hold all the cards. In the end, I will have everything I desire - power, control, and Carlotta as my possession to do with what I want, whether she likes it or not.

"Carlotta," I whisper, the words echoing through the empty warehouse like the distant howl of a wolf. "Your fate is sealed. You are mine, and soon, even Ettore Mancini won't be able to save you."