Page 47 of The Don's Deadly Assassin

"Vincenzo, I had no idea that he had passed. The news was such a shock; we all thought he was as healthy as a bull," she interrupts, her voice tinged with sadness. "Can you even believe it?”

“I can’t, and that’s why I’m calling. Does it seem–”

“Suspicious?” she cuts me off again. “It does. It’s too simple for him to just die like that, without cause or reason. That too, at the pinnacle of success.”

“Do you have any concrete leads, Sofia? I need to know if there's anything unusual you've heard or seen regarding him."

"Nothing comes to mind," Sofia says apologetically. "But I'll definitely let you know if I stumble across any information that might help."

"Thanks, Sofia. Take care." I ended the call disappointed but no less determined.

“Julian, I promise I will find out who did this to you, no matter what it takes.”

I dial another number, then another, each conversation mirroring the previous ones. But someone out there knows something, and I won't rest until I find them.

Two hours slip away from me as I sit at my mahogany desk, having moved on to other matters of importance. The room feels darker, and the sunlight streaming through the window is now a cool orange.

Papers are sprawled out before me as I attempt to focus on the business numbers. I’ve barely reconciled two bank statements, and I had to go through six.

"Damn it," I mutter under my breath, running a hand through my hair. My mind keeps wandering back to Camela. There’s no denying that I’m drawn to her.

I tap my pen against the desk, all thoughts of business pushed aside by the knowledge that Camela’s here, in my house, and every fiber of my being yearns to be near her.

"Enough," I say to myself, standing up abruptly and pushing my chair back. "Camela deserves my time and attention, especially on her first day here."

I glance at the clock hanging on the wall – it's not even close to the end of my usual workday. I will double my efforts tomorrow. I need to help her settle in. Then, I’ll be free to get back to work. A few days, that’s all I need to make sure she’s comfortable around here.

Or so I tell myself.

As I stride towards the door, I feel a sense of excitement building within me. Spending time with Camela is like walking through an enchanting garden, waiting to discover the next magnificent bloom.

Stepping out of my office, I catch sight of her lounging on an antique couch in the alcove right outside. A book rests in her hands, her eyes scanning the pages intently.

The soft light from a nearby window bathes her in a warm glow, accentuating the curve of her cheek and the delicate arch of her brow.

A strange sensation courses through me – one of familiarity and comfort, as if seeing her here is the most natural thing in the world.

"Camela," I call softly, not wanting to startle her.

She looks up from her book, her eyes meeting mine. A slow smile spreads across her face as she closes the book and sets it aside. "Vincenzo," she replies, her voice like honey. "You’ve finished working?"

"I felt it was important to spend some time with you, especially since it's your first day here."

"That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you, Vincenzo." She pauses, her gaze flickering to the book she was reading. "I found this fascinating novel in your library, but I must admit, I'm glad for the company."

"May I join you?" I ask, gesturing towards the empty space beside her on the couch.

"Of course," she responds gracefully, patting the cushion in invitation.

As I sit down next to her, our knees brushing against each other, I can't help but think about how effortlessly Camela has made herself at home in my world. A sudden curiosity grips me, and I find myself asking, "What were you reading?"

"Ah, it's a mystery novel – quite thrilling, actually." She hands me the book, her fingers brushing against mine as she does so.

I glance at the cover, intrigued by her choice.

“Maybe I could read it once you’re done?”

“It’s got a lot of blood in it,” she warns me.

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