Chapter 12
Damiano
Katarina sleeps the rest of the day, after she asked me to leave her alone.
The next day, she refuses to eat the meals that the maids bring her.
Gio is guarding her door while Lorenzo’s guards train Julian.
He needs to learn about my family, the Five Dons, and the property if he were to protect Katarina well.
When I revealed my true identity to her, her face shifted like a sky before a storm.
She didn’t scream. She just... stopped looking at me like she used to.
That was worse. I wish she had screamed and gotten angry, but she just looked defeated.
And if I hadn’t lost her before, I feel like I just did.
She wasn’t mine to lose to begin with, but it feels that way regardless. And that fucking feeling lingered, like a quiet ache that gnawed at me, reminding me of the version of myself I thought I could run away from. The version of myself I thought I could hide from her.
As I stay away to give her time to calm down, I spend my time spying on Guidicelli and gathering more information about Mateo and Katarina.
Nicolo seems to be lying low and hasn’t made any unusual moves since we arrived. But I cannot find any relevant information on Mateo and Katarina that would have piqued his interest.
Katarina and Mateo moved to Argentina after their parents died in a car accident in Spain.
A woman from Argentina adopted them. They were raised on a small estancia in a quiet province called Mendoza.
When their adoptive mother died, Mateo moved them to Buenos Aires so Katarina could finish her studies.
Mateo eventually opened his security company, and Katarina became a celebrity.
I hit a dead end with their biological parents. They supposedly died in a vehicular accident in Madrid, but I can’t find any records that fit what Katarina described to me before. And because they were adopted, I can’t get a copy of their original birth certificates either.
I just know that the missing information is the key. I can feel it in my gut. And there is only one person who can help me dig deeper.
I pick up my phone and dial Andreas Moretti.
"Allura, si nun è lu figghiu pròdigu di li Cotrini." A low, smoky voice comes onto the line and tugs a smile on my lips. I missed the fucker’s voice. Andreas is the only son of Don Moretti, one of the Five Dons.
Andreas has been my best friend since we were barely walking—him, me, and Lucian Soleri. We were inseparable until I left the mafia two years ago. I haven’t seen them since.
“How are you, my friend?” I settle back into the leather office chair and say. I stare out the window. It has gotten dark already.
“Don’t ask me how I am. Tell me why on earth you are back in Sicily with a strange woman in tow,” he says.
Leave it to Andreas to know everything before you tell him anything. When it comes to gathering intel, no one is better than the Moretti heir.
“She needs my protection. Nicolo Guidicelli is interested in her,” I explain, standing up to walk toward the balcony. The crisp autumn wind sweeps over my face as soon as I step out.
“Interesting. Why would our dear Nicolo have such an interest in your woman?”
My woman. The title shouldn't feel so right, but it does.
“I was hoping you could find out for me. She’s my responsibility now,” I say.
There is a sudden disturbance on the other end of the line—a flurry of raised voices and a sharp exchange of Sicilian curses. Then, someone snatches the phone away.
"A cu stamu attaccannu?" Another familiar voice blares into the earpiece, and I have to pull the phone away to save my eardrum.
Lucian. I guess he was listening in. He is the only son of Don Soleri, the last of the five Dons of the La Famiglia.
“Comu stai, amicu meu?" I chuckle. A genuine smile pulls at my lips for the first time in days. Lucian lives for violence. He is probably already planning which bombs to use in retaliation as we speak.
It’s good to hear their voices. Despite my determination to leave this life, I never wanted to part with them. Our bond is stronger than the one I have with my own brother. These two are my ride-or-dies. Thick as thieves, as my mother loves to say.
When I left the mafia, I made them promise not to follow me.
My leaving my family was forgivable because I had Lorenzo to pick up the slack and take care of our father and the business.
But Andreas and Lucians are both their father’s only heirs.
I couldn’t have them give that all up because my father had no faith in me.
“Stay put, we’re coming over,” Lucian says before the line cuts off.
I guess they’re coming over. I shake my head and sigh. It’s going to be a long night.
When I check the clock on my desk, it's already dinner time. I go out of my office to check on Katarina, and I’m on top of the stairs when I see a maid carrying a tray of food knocking on the bedroom door.
I stop and wait for Katarina to tell her to come in, hoping to hear her voice. But it doesn’t come. This time, Gio knocks.
Still nothing.
Gio frowns and knocks again.
When she still doesn’t answer, Gio and the maid shoot a questioning look in my direction.
“She must be sleeping,” the maid says.
“I don’t think she is,” Gio mutters, and I can recognize the worry in his tone.
I close the distance between us and pound on the door, my heartbeat speeding up as I wait for her to respond to my rude knocking. When there’s no noise in ten seconds, I turn the doorknob.
It’s locked.
“Katarina, open the door.” My voice booms in the hallway, my heart hammering against my chest.
Nothing.
“Something’s not right,” Gio says, but I’m already kicking on the double doors. It flies open in two kicks.
I hurry inside, and when I see the bed is empty, a cold wave washes over my body. I run to the bathroom to check if she’s there, but it’s empty too.
“Cazzu!” I swear, and that’s when I see the balcony. The glass doors are open, making the curtains dance as the wind sweeps in.
When I step out, my eyes catch the fleeting figure of a woman dashing across the lawn. She is dressed in nothing but an oversized white t-shirt of mine that she must have stolen from my closet. Her bare legs are moving quickly as she makes her way toward the gardens.
The urgency in her pace is unmistakable, and it’s clear she is desperate to get away.
Without a second thought, I launch myself over the edge of the railing, my hands gripping the balustrade as I lower myself.
I use the window frames of the room below as a makeshift ladder to drop to the ground level.
As soon as my feet touch the ground, I break into a sprint, pushing myself to run as fast as I can in the direction she went.
As I close the distance between us, I can see she’s struggling to run with her bare feet and injuries.
“Katarina!” I yell, and her head whips towards my direction. As soon as she sees me, she picks up the pace.
We have reached the main gardens, surrounded by tall trees and manicured plants, when her bare feet stumble on the gravel. I reach her in seconds and catch her before she falls to the ground.
She whirls around to push me with all her strength, and, in one moment, a pistol I recognize is pointed at my chest. She must have found it in my closet.
“You’re developing a bad habit of pointing a gun at me,” I say, forcing a calm tone as I try to manage the fear that is so vivid on her face.
"Just let me go. I'm leaving, and nothing you say will stop me,” she spat, her voice rough with exhaustion yet holding on to a fierce determination.
“I can't let you do that.”
The sharp metallic click of the safety coming off is the only answer I get.
“Do you even know how to use that gun?” I ask, trying to distract.
“Mateo taught me how to use all sorts of guns,” she threatens, and I watch the angel I know transform into a fierce fighter. I can’t help the smirk that tugs on my lips.
Damn, she looks a hundred times hotter when she’s threatening my life. But she’s right, I should give her more credit. She did escape her kidnappers. So I hold my hands up, palms flat, as I lock my eyes on hers.
“Katarina, I have no reason to hurt you." I plead.
“How can I trust you?” she yells, her nostrils flaring from anger. “You’re a criminal!”
I shake my head and take one step closer to her. She is hyperventilating and in obvious agony. I can see it in the way she hunches slightly to protect her broken shoulder.
"Then explain why your brother asked me to protect you?” I challenge her.
Her eyes bounce between my eyes and my lips as she tries to look for a logical answer.
"He didn't trust me as a friend, Dolcezza. He trusted me because he knew who I was." I say.
She pauses and stares at me like she can't believe what I'm saying. The gun lowers an inch.
"He knew?” she asks, confusion warring with fear in her eyes.
"He knew from our first meeting. He always knew. I never lied to your brother about that.” I explain as I attempt to approach her.
She stares at me. The betrayal on her face shifts to uncertainty. She takes a step back, but her bleeding foot slips on a rock, and she winces.
I see the moment the argument leaves her. Her shoulder must be screaming in pain, and the sheer volume of adrenaline and grief has overwhelmed her. Her grip on the gun falters, and she clutches her shoulder.
I have to end this now, or she’ll hurt herself.
In one step, I launch forward. My right hand snatches the pistol from her trembling fingers before catching her wrists and spinning her around.
My left arm wraps around her torso, trapping her against my chest. She lets out a choked gasp of pain as my arm presses against her body. Her small body spasms against my hold, a desperate, last-ditch attempt to break free.
“Stop!” I growl directly into her ear, tightening my grip just enough to solidify the command but not to cause serious harm. “I told you to listen. I am not your fucking enemy.”
I discard the gun into a nearby flowerbed and secure both arms around her so she can’t move. She is screaming and flailing her legs, but I lift her off the ground easily. She seems even lighter now than she did three days ago.
I carry her back to the house, and Gio appears in no time. He guides us up the stairs and back into the bedroom. I put her on the bed and walk to the door, slamming it shut.
When I turn around, she launches herself at me, hitting and punching with no direction. Some of it lands on my chest, but they barely hurt.
“Let go of me! Let me go!” she screams, her wild eyes looking at me with feral hate.
“Stop it!” I push her back to the bed and pin both her arms on the sides of her head, then trap her legs between mine. She screams louder as I subdue her.
My voice booms in the room as I shout at her for the first time, "Enough!"
She freezes.
“I’m not going to hurt you. You fucking know me, Kat. Maybe not my real name then, but you know me,” I growl to her face.
“I don’t know you! I don’t know what’s happening anymore, but I’m not going to sit here and wait at your mercy!” She snarls, her eyes full of tears.
“Do you know what will happen to you if I let you go now?” I move my face closer to her, and she looks away. “Tell me, do you know?!” I snarl, all of my patience running out.
I cup her jaw and force her to look at me.
“He will find you in an instant and make sure you’re dead. Or worse, you become one of his goods. He’s a human trafficker, Katarina. Do you understand what that means?” I hiss, and I watch the look of anger in her eyes transform into pure terror.
I release her and let the words hang in the air. I take a few breaths in trying to compose myself before peeling myself off of her and standing across the bed.
She lies there glaring up at me, body shaking from fear.
“If locking you in this room is how I keep you safe, I’ll do just that.”
“Don’t make me,” I add before walking out the door.