“Why now?” Stefano asks as he starts to anxiously pace the room.
“Her father died a month before Caterina,” I say, causing Stefano to halt in his tracks.
“Isn’t that a bit of a coincidence?” Carlo asks, rubbing his bald head. I ignore his remark, opening the safe under my desk and chuck a folder towards them. Photos of Charlotte spill across the table. Photos I’ve been staring at constantly for the last couple of months, trying to decide if I should follow Caterina’s wishes or try and move on without Charlotte ever knowing.
They all reach out and grab different parts of the information from within the folder, all eager to know about the secret Principessa, Charlotte O’Reilly.
“Mattia, follow her 24/7 for the next two weeks. I want to know everything,” I order. “Where she works, who she visits, what she does in her spare time, what she eats and drinks. I want everything!”
“Si.”Yes. A grin forms at the corner of his mouth while he looks at the photo. My chest starts to rumble with a hint of jealousy, but I push it back beneath the surface and continue with our meeting.
“Joseph has orders to deliver her an envelope from Caterina,” I tell them, trying not to stare at the photos of Charlotte. I shouldn’t be interested in her.
Gabriele tilts his head. “What’s in the envelope?”
“A letter from Caterina. How she responds will tell us if she decides to come willingly to the mansion or if we have to kidnap her,” I state.
They stare at me, showing mixed emotions. The thought of kidnapping Charlotte sends a chilling thrill down my neck, and I secretly hope she says no and puts up a fight.
Over the last week, Mattia’s intel has been subpar. Charlotte’s life is basic, boring, and she does the same four things every day: home to her apartment, work at a dodgy diner, hang out with her blonde friend and party at nights. Wasting her life away is an understatement.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I already know it’s Mattia without looking. It’s time for his usual check-in.
Brace yourself, Luciano. She just stormed into Pulse with her blonde sidekick.
I’m currently sitting in the back office of Pulse—one of our many businesses—going through the numbers with Gabriele. Irritation grows within me. Out of all the nights, she decides to come here.
“Summarize it for me, Gabe. I have other businesses to attend,” I say, pushing my chair out.
“Si, brother. I’ll have the notes on your desk tomorrow.” I give him a nod, grabbing my phone off the desk and respond to Mattia. The last thing I need is him to be noticed.
I’ll take over.
Go home.
Si.
Stepping onto the main floor of Pulse, the smell is intoxicating: perfume mixed with sweat and liquor. The neon lights flickering over the crowded room cause shadows to dance along the walls. Business has been booming since Mattia dragged me into his insane idea of installing cages suspended above the dance floor. He thought of the idea of letting the patrons climb inside and feel that raw, exposed submissionfor themselves. If you feed them enough alcohol, they stop holding back, revealing a primal side that has been lining our pockets thicker. It has inflated Mattia’s already huge ego and now he won’t stop offering us his ‘business ideas’—much to mine and Stefano’s dismay.
Roger spots me striding across the floor and immediately drops the rope to our booth. Outside, the eager girls hover near the edge, their eyes begging for a ticket inside, but there’s no room for distractions tonight. My focus is purely on the brunette at the bar, her dress too damn revealing for someone tied to the Carlisi name. She tosses her head back in laughter at something the bartender said, and fire starts to ignite within my chest. I undo my top shirt buttons to try and cool myself down.
Sara, my usual waitress, slides over with my favorite whiskey and pours me a drink. “Hey Luciano, how’s your night?”
“Can’t complain. Business is good,” I reply without breaking my gaze from Charlotte. I’ve seen her photo a million times, but nothing compares to her in real life. She is fucking stunning. The thoughts crossing my mind right now would have most people hiding with shame.
Sara’s eyes follow my gaze. “She’s been coming around a lot with her friend.” She points towards Charlotte.
My head whips back to Sara, her words grabbing my attention. “How often?” I ask, furious that Mattia left that detail out of his intel.
“Two, three times a week for the last couple of months. You know her?” She tilts her head, a hint of jealousy showing. Women. I don’t know what her issue is—I only fucked her once, and it was one of the worst fucks I’ve had in my life.
“Not yet,” I say, downing the whiskey and slamming it on the table. Sara’s quick to refill my glass. “But I will.” I let the words linger, and Ican see Sara’s eyes trying to cipher my words, trying to work out exactly my intent with the brunette at the bar.
I pull out my phone and text Mattia.
Your intel is slipping, Mattia. Don’t fuck up again.
Sara takes the hint, leaving the bottle of whiskey on the table and walks away. I keep staring, watching how oblivious Charlotte is to the fact she’s our Principessa and how soon I will be claiming what is rightfully ours.
