The Don’s Soulmate

38. Ettore

Chapter 38

Ettore

The sun slowly rises, casting warm rays of light across the room. I wake up wrapped in Ettore's strong arms, his hard body pressed against my back. Contentment washes over me, and I feel the safest I've ever felt. Yet anxiety gnaws in my belly since I didn’t sleep well last night.

I stayed awake, tossing and turning, wondering what it meant to love someone truly. Was love ownership? Did love give me the right to steal him away from his life, from the people who loved him and raised him just right?

No.

We have responsibilities to those who made us who we are. And it is exactly because of my love for Ettore that I know it’s my duty to remind him of that.

I roll over to face him, taking in his chiseled features softened by sleep. "Ettore," I whisper, caressing his stubbled cheek. His ice-blue eyes flutter open, and he smiles, pulling me closer until I’m snuggled into his chest.

He gently runs his hands through my hair over and over again, threatening to lull me back to sleep. But I’ve got more on my mind.

“What is it, cara mia?” he asks, in that devastatingly lazy voice he uses in bed, which makes my legs all wobbly.

"We should contact Sofia," I say gently. I know you're worried about being tracked, but she must be so concerned."

Ettore's body tenses. "Your father probably has her bugged six ways to Sunday."

"You're right," I reply, and after a moment’s hesitation, I put my thoughts out there about the situation at hand. "But what about contacting your father instead? He must be worried sick, too."

He hesitates, his brow furrowing with what looks like mild anger, as he gently pushes me away to sit upright against the bed. I, too, sit up, resting my back against the pillows, watching him carefully.

“My father,” he says, a statement in and of itself, with nothing more to add to it.

“Yes,” I say, the frustration clear from now snipped my tone. “ Your father . Remember? The man who raised you, sheltered you, loves you?”

“He’ll have nothing good to say to me,” Ettore bristles. “He was furious when I wanted to fight for you, Carlotta. Don’t you understand? He’ll never get why I did what I had to.”

“Perhaps,” I say, assertively. “But that’s only because he feared for your safety, Ettore. He’s probably unable to sleep, thinking of where you are, whether you’re dead in a ditch somewhere. Just imagine how traumatic your disappearance must be on him and your brother and sister.”

“What if our calls are traced?” he grumbles.

“Now, Ettore Mancini,” I raise my voice at him, probably for the first time in our lives. He looks over at me with a sudden jerk, surprise etched on his face. “Don’t you dare tell me that your father, one of the strongest mafia dons, doesn’t have adequate security measures? I might be many things, but na?ve isn’t one of them!”

Ettore's jaw clenches, betraying his reluctance. He considers my suggestion for a moment before sighing in resignation, followed by a chuckle. "Alright, if you insist. He does have ways of speaking securely."

"Thank you," I say softly, knowing it's not an easy decision for him. I press a soft kiss on his hand. We must maintain connections with those we care about, even in a situation as dire as ours involving life and death.

He nods, his expression softening for a moment before returning to its steely resolve. "I'll set up the call. Stay close, but don't speak unless I ask you to."

As Ettore prepares the speakerphone, my heart races with a mix of excitement and anxiety. I pray that Ettore can convince his father that he’s alright and that he has found someone who loves him. That must count for something, shouldn’t it?

This conversation could be a turning point for us, and I silently pray that it goes well. Ettore's family means so much to him, and I hope they'll accept our love and, by extension, me.

It’s difficult to accept that we’ve alienated our families. In some small way, I sometimes mourn the loss of normal love, where couples are treated with acceptance by families from both ends.

"Father, Davide, are you there?" Ettore's voice is steady and calm as he speaks into the phone.

"Ettore! Oh my god, Ettore," his father exclaims, relief evident in his tone. "It's good to hear your voice. Where are you? We’ve been looking everywhere. And Davide is here, too. We've been worried sick."

"Hello, brother," Davide chimes in softly, his voice thoughtful and measured. "We miss you. Tell us where you are, and we can bring you back."

"Listen, Father, Davide," Ettore begins, taking a deep breath. "I am safe but I need to tell you something important. I've met someone, and I'm in love. You know her, Carlotta, and she's... She’s my everything now. We’ve run away together."

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and I hold my breath, waiting for their response.

"Run away?" his father asks, skepticism dripping from his words. "Ettore, don’t be silly. She’s a D’Amici. Her parents would have your head for this.”

"Regardless of what you believe, she's the one for me," Ettore replies firmly. "And I won't leave her, no matter what. If not this, she’s going to be forced to marry Ugo Caputo, that horrid bastard."

Davide asks, his tone laced with pain and sadness, "Your choice of company has always been questionable, brother. But this... This is dangerous. You need to come home and leave this path behind. Just tell us where you are, please. Is that really what you want, even if it means turning your back on your family?"

Ettore hesitates, and for a moment, I see the internal struggle written across his face. But then he steels himself, and I can hear the resolve in his voice when he speaks again. "If that's what it takes to be with the love of my life, then yes. I'll do whatever is necessary."

The air in the room crackles with tension as Ettore's father raises his voice, the harsh sound amplified through the speakerphone. "You're throwing your life away for this... this girl? You don't even know her!"

My heart aches at the anger in his words, but I stay quiet, gripping Ettore's hand tighter. His knuckles are white, and I can feel the barely contained fury beneath his calm exterior.

"Father, I've made my choice," Ettore replies, his voice firm and unwavering. "I love Carlotta, and I won't turn my back on her for anything."

“Ettore, please,” his father begs now, trying to keep a calm voice. “Listen to caution. If anything happens to you because of that woman…”

My chest tightens as tension fills the air, but I remain silent, respecting Ettore's wishes. As much as I want to defend our love, this is a conversation he needs to have with his family. Suddenly, a faint beep pierces through the heated conversation, jarring my nerves, but Ettore dismisses it as a low battery issue by motioning at the charger and speaking.

"Look," Ettore says, his voice strained with emotion. "I understand your concerns, but I can't abandon Carlotta. I won't. I hope you can eventually accept that and find peace in knowing that I am safe. We’ve survived this far without your help, and we’ll make it through the rest, too. I only called because that woman convinced me to. She was worried because she believed you would be worried. The least you can do is respect her if nothing else!"

The silence that follows feels like a knife cutting through the air, leaving us all holding our breaths. I can tell that Ettore's words have shocked his family, but I also understand why he's willing to make such a sacrifice. Our love is powerful and undeniable. We both know that it's worth fighting for.

"Fine," Ettore's father finally says, his voice dripping with disappointment. "If this is the path you choose, then you'll have to face the consequences. Just remember, Ettore – once you cut ties with your family, there's no going back."

With that, the line goes dead, leaving us in the deafening silence of the room, and I can almost hear the pounding of my own heart in my chest. Ettore turns away from me, his jaw clenched and eyes distant.

I sit on the edge of the bed, mind racing as I process the gravity of what just happened. Ettore's willingness to cut ties with his family shocks me to my core. Although our love is something extraordinary, I can't shake the feeling that he shouldn't have to choose between us and those who raised him.

My voice trembles as I gather the courage to speak my thoughts. "Ettore, I... I don't think you should have to choose between your family and our love."

He looks at me, his piercing blue eyes searching mine for answers. "What are you saying?" he asks, uncertainty lacing his words.

"Your family is important, even if they don't understand what we share," I explain, trying to make sense of the turmoil inside me. "I don't want you to lose them because of me."

"Carlotta..." Ettore hesitates, clearly torn between his loyalty to his family and his desire to protect our bond.

"Think about what you're giving up," I continue, desperate for him to see reason. "Your father, your brother – they've been there your entire life. Can you really walk away from them?"

Ettore runs his hands through his hair, frustration evident on his face. "I don't know," he admits, his vulnerability shining through. "But I do know that I can't stand the thought of losing you."

His words send a shiver down my spine, and I reach out to touch his arm. "I don't want to lose you either," I whisper, my fingertips brushing against his scarred skin. "But we shouldn't have to sacrifice everything for our love. You can’t just give up your family,” I click my fingers together, “like that.”

Ettore's gaze returns to mine, searching for something – perhaps reassurance or validation. I can tell he's struggling with my perspective, caught between his desires and the reality of our predicament.

"Carlotta, I..." He stammers, clearly at a loss for words. "I want to believe that there's a way to have both, but what if there isn't? What if I have to choose?"

"Then you need to really consider all the factors," I insist, trying to steady my voice. "You can't just make a decision based on fear or anger. Weigh your values, your love for me, and your loyalty to your family. And remember –" I pause, swallowing hard, "– whatever choice you make, I'll support you."

"Carlotta," Ettore says softly, his ice-blue eyes searching mine for an answer. "I already made my choice. I choose you, and there’s no going back. Now, what would you do if you were in my shoes?”