Page 51 of The Don's Deadly Assassin

“Vincenzo,” she gasps, looking surprised. I can see a flicker of fear in her eyes, one in which she doesn’t wish to be disappointed. “What are you saying?”

Chapter 19

Camela

I glance over at Vincenzo, his warm smile telling me he’s saying what he’s saying.

“What I’m saying is,” he tells me in clear terms. “That I love to travel and I was wondering… would you like to go on a vacation with me? Someplace we can explore together and maybe even lay the foundation for a solid travel-related fight?” I smile at his light heartedness.

The thought of a vacation with Vincenzo is both appealing and terrifying. Given my past with and my training under the Handler, being away from it all seems like a dream come true.

But a guilt gnaws at me. I can’t help but shake off the feeling that he’s extending this offer to me from an affection born of a lie. I am an orphan, yes. But, I was never truly alone the way I have been portraying it. I had the Handler - watching over me, raising me.

To lie to Vincenzo about my state of loneliness pains me. My conscience would have me turn down his offer. And yet, from somewhere deep within, a small voice I believed to have been trained out of me forever, yearns to fight for a life of my own.

My life. A life I’ve never been given the choice to live. It was always at the Handler’s mercy. Field trips, extra murals, it was always part of our training. His training.

Even the friendships amongst us protégés lacked affection and emotional connection. We were surrounded by cold relationships, devoid of all things that make a life human.

"Where would you want to go?" Vincenzo’s voice pulls me back from these unfamiliar and dark thoughts, his eyes gentle as he notices my silence and tries to encourage me further. "Somewhere warm and sunny, or perhaps somewhere snowy?"

I ponder the options for a moment, recalling how the Handler always preferred the heat, the sun turning his skin leathery. I want something different, something that represents my life now, with Vincenzo.

"What about a snowy Christmas getaway," I suggest, feeling a tingle of excitement run through me. "A little cabin in the mountains, just the two of us. I’ve never built a snowman before,” I clap excitedly at the thought.

Vincenzo's eyes widen with delight, and he squeezes my hand. "That sounds perfect, cara mia. A chance to begin our own traditions, away from the demands of the world."

“When?” His excitement is contagious, and my smile is as broad as his.

“This winter? We’ll have the very best Christmas. Three months from now. What do you say?”

“I’m in! Oh, I’m in Vincenzo! And can we go someplace with lots of snow?”

“Oh darling,” he murmurs, bringing my hand up to his lips and giving it a soft kiss. “I’ll make sure there’s so much snow that you’re going to freeze if you aren’t in my arms.”

“You really are the devil,” I scoff playfully, pulling my hand away and whacking him gently on the back of his.

He laughs and sits back, staring at me like a man utterly captivated by my beauty. As he reaches for the bottle of wine on our table, he notices my eyes follow his movements.

"Would you like some more wine?" he asks, holding the bottle above my glass.

"Please," I reply with a smile. “The night is young.”

And so are we,” he murmurs. Our eyes lock, and I’m drawn in by his soulful gaze. The love I see reflected there both thrills and calms me, like a balm for my soul.

Leaning in across the table, we close the distance between us, our lips meeting in a tender, passionate kiss. At this moment, I know that no matter what happens, our love is strong enough to conquer any obstacle we may face.

As I loosen my lips from Vincenzo’s and sit back, the clink of silverware and soft murmurs of conversation around us filter back into my awareness.

It's then that a waiter approaches our table. "Can I interest you in some dessert?" he asks, eyes darting between Vincenzo and me.

Something about him immediately alerts me. First, it’s his unfamiliar voice. I look up and see a man with dark hair, a thin jaw, and slim cheeks. He isn’t the waiter we had earlier. I frown.

“Where is the server who was here just before?” I ask curtly.

“Busy,” the new waiter says. I see a flicker of something behind his eyes. Annoyance. My question annoyed him.

"Dessert," Vincenzo says, unaware of my growing concern. "What do you recommend?"

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