Page 65 of The Don's Deadly Assassin

“Anything for you, my little chameleon.”

“Chameleon?”

“You have an incredible knack for blending in, Camela. From being the epitome of poise at parties to now becoming an inspiration to little girls and sellers of colorful wares, I hope you know what a gift you have."

I frown gently, confused by his words. His eyes twinkle as he inches closer and whispers. "That's part of your charm, Camela."

The word chameleon stings as if it were a barbed arrow aimed straight at my heart. If only he knew my true colors.

"Is that a good thing?" I ask, attempting to keep my voice steady.

"Of course," Vincenzo replies, his eyes never leaving mine. "It's one of the many things I admire about you."

"Thank you." I force a smile onto my lips, trying to maintain the façade a little longer. But as I stand there, I wonder how much longer I can keep up this act. I wonder if the woman Vincenzo has fallen for can ever really be who he thinks she is.

How much longer until the truth comes crashing down around me, and Vincenzo sees me for who I truly am?

"Come on," he says, wrapping an arm around my waist. "Let's go explore some more."

As we walk deeper into the bustling market, I cling to the waistcoat, my heart racing with a mixture of love and fear. It's a symbol of the life I could have – if only I were brave enough to embrace it.

But with each step, the line between truth and lies becomes even more blurred, and I find myself questioning who I truly am beneath the ever-changing colors of the chameleon.

"Camela, have you tried these candied nuts before? They're amazing!" Vincenzo exclaims, pulling me out of my thoughts, holding out a small paper cone filled with glistening almonds coated in a sugary glaze.

"Um, no, I haven't." I take a nut and pop it into my mouth. The sweetness is almost too much, but then there's a hidden depth of flavor that makes it impossible not to enjoy.

The taste grounds me. I’ll have all the time for my thoughts later, but for now, I must focus on where we are and keep my ears and eyes open, mind empty to observe our surroundings and keep Vincenzo safe.

“Come,” I tell him. “Let’s go check out some more food stalls.”

We continue walking down the aisles to where the food is. But more than halfway there, a sudden chill curls up my spine. I sense eyes on me, and it’s not just the curious gaze of bystanders.

Vincenzo continues to take in the sights and sounds of the night market, as I scan the crowd to spot any sign of danger.

"Camela, look at these!" Vincenzo exclaims, pointing at a stall selling necklaces. But my attention is elsewhere.

I feign interest in the handmade wares, all while keeping my senses sharp and attuned to any shifts in the crowd. There’s no change.

When we begin walking, I notice a pattern of footsteps. It’s heavy-footed and well-paced. I count mine, then the others. The person is at the same pace as us. I slow down and stop, pretending to adjust the waistcoat on my arm.

The footsteps that had been following us slow, then stop altogether. They’re following us.

"Vincenzo," I say, trying to keep my voice light and unconcerned, "I'm getting hungry. Could we order some food?”

“Of course,” he grins. He takes my arm, and I lead him to the busiest stall. He’s too much of a gentleman to tell me that the line’s way too long, with over a dozen people in queue.

I read the menu and noticed a special rosti with sausages and a side-marked note stating it takes twenty minutes to prepare.

“That rosti looks good, doesn’t it?” I gush at someone holding it in their hand.

“Oh, it looks insane,” he nods. “Let’s get two of those?”

“Done and done,” I grin.

We stand in line for a few minutes when I decide it’s time for me to step away and see if the assailant follows. Vincenzo would be safe here, in this crowd. I can use this time to draw away whoever might be following us.

"Vincenzo, I need to use the bathroom," I say, my voice strained but casual. "I'll be right back."

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