The Don's Proposal (Ruthless Obsession #1)

1. Camellia

1

Camellia

Music plays from the speakers up ahead. Thanks to the subwoofers, the bass throbs deep enough that I can feel it in my bones, and the beats per minute matches my heart rate.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

My heart is pounding like a drum solo that only ends once my poor organ gives out. At nineteen years old, I have my entire life ahead of me. Well, maybe. That may change depending on how the end of this night is going to go.

As long as my identity remains undiscovered, I feel safe. However, if someone were to figure out who I truly am, it could lead to devastating consequences that might prematurely end my youth.

I have a single task with little choice in the matter. Sneak into the enemy’s territory, and retrieve the information my brother needs. As straightforward as it sounds. In and out with no mistakes.

Only, I think Rocco sent the wrong person to get what he needs. That, or he picked the most disposable person at his fingers.

With a trembling glass of mixed liquor clutched tightly in my shaking fingers, I attempt to steady my quaking knees and keep them from wobbling uncontrollably. Everyone around me is laughing and enjoying the festivities while I stand here, fighting the start of a cold sweat.

I need to move. Now is no time to act like a wallflower or a skittish animal. I need to act more confidently, as if I belong with these criminals.

No one attends a Santino Bertelli party unless they’ve got a taste for breaking laws. Drug trafficking discussions happen as casually as chatting about the weather. Men pass around women, willing ones, I hope. Who is to say? They giggle and laugh as hungry hands grope their body parts, so I can only assume.

The shadowy corners are safest, but I can’t imagine what would happen if someone caught me alone. It’s not worth the risk, not when I have a mission to take care of. The place I’m sneaking off to is the most dangerous place around here.

As a chill rolls up my spine at the thought of the inevitable, I try to find something to distract myself with. Something to reassure me I stand a chance at making it out alive.

Instead, I spot my target. Once I lock onto him, it’s impossible to look away. My eyes are drawn to the host of this event, his captivating presence pulling me in like a magnet to metal.

There he is, the man of the hour. Santino Bertelli.

Dark eyes roam the room, his attention on those around him. Scanning and searching, they constantly move, never stopping on just one person. Someone has him deep in conversation, but he doesn’t look interested. With each sip of his drink, I expect him to jerk his chin and look my way without warning. Maybe he senses something is wrong, and he’s just waiting for me to slip. Waiting for me to give myself away in front of these people so he can make an example out of me.

Santino Bertelli is not a man to go against. Or so I’ve heard.

He wears black dress slacks, and a matching waistcoat, neatly fastened with jeweled buttons. It wouldn’t surprise me if they were diamonds. As a man of business, not even a party can stop him from wearing a crimson red tie. Just a shade brighter than the blood he spills with the snap of his fingers, a shiver rolls up my spine at the reminder of just how dangerous this man really is.. Dazzled in jewelry, the rings on each finger matches the buttons on his waistcoat.

The only element of his appearance suggesting relaxation is his casually rolled-up dress shirt sleeves, revealing muscular arms with faint veins under smooth skin, conveying both strength and relaxed confidence.

He’d never expect someone brave enough to infiltrate his home to look for secrets. It’s why he doesn’t look bothered in the slightest by having these people in his home at this ungodly hour.

I avoid making eye contact with him, especially if I want to stay unnoticed. Instead of forgetting how to walk as I get lost in the view, I push forward.

My brother made one thing clear. If I am discovered, I am better off biting off my tongue or grabbing one of their guns to take myself out before they can get the chance to get any information out of me. Despite not really knowing much, it’s a risk he’s not willing to take.

In other words, he’d rather I take my life than allow his enemy to get the upper hand.

Rocco has never won the brother of the year award in the last five years he’d taken over the ‘family business’. Given his callous disregard for others, I can’t say I’m shocked by his cruelty. He could have sent anyone to do his dirty work, yet I’m the one here.

Squeezed in a dress that shows off more skin than I’m used to, I continuously have to fight off the urge to cover myself away from any wandering eyes.

My sister was nice enough to paint my face, murmuring soft promises that everything would be all right. Helped put in my contacts too, changing the one thing that stands out the most about my identity, and makes me feel unique.

Rocco would never risk sending Eliza here. She possesses an undeniable beauty, and is far too well-known. There’s no chance she could pass by the sprawling iron bars that adorn the estate without being recognized.

Taking another sip of my drink, it feels heavy in my stomach as I drift across the room. When the glass becomes empty, I quickly swap it out with a refill when someone passes with a tray.

As someone who doesn’t drink alcohol often, I know I can’t go crazy. My skin is already flushed beneath my dress, but the nerves are still there. Right now, I’m in a pretty good spot.

I need to focus.

I look for all the exits in the room. To my surprise, there isn’t a guard with a gun at every door. With the reputation of the Bertelli family, I expected a bit more protection. Then again, I don’t know what is on the other side of each closed door.

A door leads to the front of the home, promising a swift escape if I decide I want to leave empty-handed, and accept being a failure in my brother’s eyes. He’s called me worse. Though, I think he may truly abandon me if I mess this up.

Focus, Camellia.

A large grand staircase is further out, with a few partygoers sitting on the steps while enjoying each other’s company. I sure hope my destination isn’t up there. The heels I am wearing wouldn’t make it to the top.

Two open hallways divot from the stairs, leading deeper into the home. Darkness swallows up each one, promising the unknown. I am sure it’s helping keep any guests from wandering off, and it’s working. My heart is sinking into my stomach from thinking about going down one of them.

No other doors are within my sight.

Okay. I’m either going to do this, or I’m not. With little choice in the matter, I throw back my drink, and hope it’ll give me the confidence I need.

Abandoning the flute on a nearby table next to a worn potted plant, I head toward the staircase. With only one shot and three different paths to take, the chance of finding all the Bertelli secrets are slim without getting caught trying to go a second round.

Luck typically isn’t on my side, but I have no choice but to put all of my faith in it. Between the three, I pick the right hallway. Glancing over my shoulder, I look around to see if I’ve caught any unwanted attention.

Everyone here is so deeply engrossed in their own lives that I doubt a random woman could ever shift their focus.

Seemingly in the clear, I move. Heading toward the unknown, the darkness swallows me up. The music fades with each step, and I reach out to use the wall to guide me. Fingertips gliding against the surface, I graze against door knobs. It’s a hall full of them.

No surprise there. This is a mansion, after all. I can only hope that these rooms aren’t occupied.

Before I try to turn any handle, I stop for five seconds and hold my breath while waiting for any signs of life. The handles that aren’t locked, I slowly turn each knob and peek in.

It’s almost laughable how many bathrooms I find. At least I have an excuse for why I’m here. Though, the deeper I roam, the less the lie will be believable.

Up ahead, there is a glow of light slipping past a set of double doors. Carefully approaching, I hear what sounds like the clash of metal pans. A kitchen, possibly? I don’t dare peek in, even if my curiosities want to get the best of me.

There’s no surprise if Santino Bertelli has hired help in his home. His own personal chef, or an entire team, for all I know. There are many men here who need to be taken care of.

Rocco pays these sweet older women to cook meals for our family. Gaile is generous enough to sneak me a dessert whenever they have extra. She’s got the biggest backbone, second compared to my sister. She’ll click her tongue before huffing and puffing if he tries to stop her.

Moving on, I continue trying every door I can. Only once at the sudden approach of steps do I have to frantically slip inside another bathroom. There are a couple of guards. My guess is that most are outside patrolling. Maybe my luck is turning around.

Even more so when I open another room to finally find what I am looking for. Or what I hope to be.

Rocco said to look for an office, and I’ve never seen one without a desk. The moonlight seeping in from the large windows reveals more than just the outline of the desk.

If the office reflects the owner, I’m certain this is Santino’s workplace. All dark and pristine. This is where I need to be. Entering quietly, I close the door behind me. Navigating through the shadows, I make my way to the windows and steal a glance at the view.

The sky stretches above me, a vast canvas of deep indigo, unblemished by clouds and free from the glow of city lights. Countless stars twinkle like scattered diamonds, their brilliance palpable in the quiet desolation of this remote place. While this view might seem ordinary to some, to me, it’s nothing short of magical; it leaves me breathless, a reminder of the beauty that exists in solitude.

It’s such a pity that I have to untie the curtain’s knots and close them. I wish I didn’t have to obscure something so beautiful just to turn on the lamp on the desk.

As the room fills with light, I don’t waste any time standing around. Pushing the leather seat out of my way, the wheels guild it a few feet away. Opening drawers, I dig out anything I can find. There are so many papers.

Most of them land on the desk, immediately growing disorganized. Some catch the slightest gust of air and fall behind me.

It doesn’t matter if I leave evidence as long as they don’t know who came inside here. That, or my brother wants him to know he’s got the upper hand. I don’t know.

Rocco wants pictures of everything that looks important. He didn’t have the patience to sit me down and explain what could be what. Instead, he urged me to get whatever I can.

Pulling my phone out of my bra, my fingers tremble as I try to open up my camera app. Much to my dismay, the device slips from my grasp and hits a cup of pens. The thump is even louder when the pens scatter across the wood.

“Shoot.” Blowing out a rapid breath, I try to grab the cup before it hits the ground. It rolls off and disappears with a soft thump. “ Shoot .”

Now is not the time to panic. Yet, it’s exactly what is happening.

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’t that loud, 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.