Page 23 of The Don's Deadly Assassin

Such a cryptic warning, but I’ll be damned if I can’t find out what he meant by it.

"Julian, whatever did you find?" I whisper.

My mind wanders to my brother. They had always been there for me, Antonio and the Professor. Their passing has left an emptiness that seems to grow with every passing day.

"Is it just loneliness?" The sound of my voice mingles with the rustling leaves. "Or is it something more?"

My thoughts return to the woman who departed so suddenly and without explanation. When she ran off, I was shocked. She had seemed to enjoy my company, and the next moment, she looked conflicted.

Was it something I said or did? But for my life, I cannot think what.

I went back into the house, thinking that she just needed some space. The thought even crossed my mind that she might be playing games. She would certainly not be the first one.

However, it quickly became clear that she had vanished. And with her, apparently, any possibility of me enjoying the rest of the evening.

Before I could send one of my men to follow her, my tech guy phoned, his voice urgent, so I went to the study to look at what he had sent me.

I was still there when Giovanni called me so I could play my part as dutiful host, seeing everyone in their cars and bidding goodbyes. I sent Giovanni to pay the caterers while I checked in with the security team.

They reported nothing out of the ordinary, no guests trying to sneak out an artifact from my private collection, no lovers making out in any of the guest rooms.

Now, I find myself near the same spot where my promising evening took such a sudden left turn.

"Mario," I call out to one of my security guards, his dark suit blending into the shadows. "I need you to gather information about a guest from tonight's party. Her name is Camela."

“Last name, Boss?”

“I’m not sure,” I frown.

"Of course, sir," he replies with a nod. He knows better than to ask why I'm suddenly interested in a seemingly random guest. Especially one whose name I don’t quite recall.

"Be discreet," I add. She might have personal reasons for why she ran off. I’d hate to put her on the spot.

I don't want anyone to think that I'm desperate for information or that I'm meddling in the personal lives of my guests. It simply wouldn't do.

"Understood, Don Consolini." Mario disappears without another word.

It’s almost five a.m., but the perk of living in my world is that my household never sleeps. Someone’s always on guard, watching, spying, delivering.

As I waited for his return, images of Camela's face flashed through my mind—her large brown doe-shaped eyes seemed to hold deep secrets, while her lips smiled at me with a delectable curve.

There was something about her that felt both familiar and entirely foreign, a paradox that I could not ignore.

"Sir," the guard's voice interrupts my thoughts, causing me to look up at him. "We've found some information on your guest."

"Go on."

"Her full name is Camela Giannelli. Miss Giannelli is not a stranger to events like these. She's been seen at several high-profile gatherings in recent years, often in the company of powerful men and women. Businessmen, politicians, judges and so forth.”

"Interesting," I murmur. "What else did you find? What does she do for work?"

"Unfortunately, sir, that's all we have for now. She seems to keep a very low public and online profile."

"Very well," I say, disappointed. "Thank you for your efforts." The guard nods and takes his leave.

The scent of roses and jasmine fills the air, somehow soothing and agitating me at the same time. Just like Camela tugs at my very soul - a woman I’ve spoken to for barely an hour.

Still, I can't help but feel a strange sense of kinship with her, as if our souls had brushed against each other in that fleeting moment. It's a connection I've never experienced before.

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