Page 45 of The Don's Deadly Assassin

"Thank you," I reply, squeezing his hand and allowing myself a small, genuine smile. His trust in me is growing, and with it, my capacity to protect him increases.

"Actually," Vincenzo hesitates and looks away for a moment before meeting my gaze again. "I think I saw someone strange at the party last night. Someone who didn't quite fit in. I don't want to sound paranoid, but could it be...?"

I shiver involuntarily. If he saw someone who sparked suspicion in him or looked out of place, it could be someone from the Handler's organization. He could already be closer than I thought.

"Camela?"

"Sorry," I stammer, trying to hide my nervousness. "I just... I'm scared."

My fear shines through. I can see it in his eyes. I hate that he doesn’t know the true reason behind it – fear for him, not for myself.

He reaches out and gently brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. "You don't need to be afraid. I'm here with you, and I won't let anything happen to you."

The sincerity in his eyes and the warmth of his touch create a sickening feeling of guilt inside me.

"Listen," he says, taking a deep breath. "I know you don't want to confront your ex right now, so I think it's best if you stay with me until you're ready to face him. I want to keep you safe, and I can do that best if you're here. Once you’re ready, I’ll send my men to set him straight.." He pauses, allowing his rage towards this ex of mine to settle down, his eyes searching mine. Possibly for any sign of hesitation. "Please, Camela. I can help you."

A myriad of emotions swirls within me, threatening to spill over. His offer is both a blessing and a curse. By staying close to him, I can better protect him from the dangers lurking in the shadows. And yet, the closer we become, the harder it will be to keep my own secrets hidden.

"Vincenzo," I whisper, reaching out to touch his hand. "I appreciate your concern, but I don't want to be a burden on you."

"Camela, you could never be a burden," he says, his voice firm yet gentle. "You're important to me, and I want to make sure you're safe. Please, let me do this for you."

His words tug at my heart, and I know that I can't refuse him. After all, this was part of my grand plan to keep an eye on Vincenzo and keep him alive.

Taking a deep breath, I nod, finally acquiescing to his request.

"Alright," I say softly. "I'll stay with you, Vincenzo. Thank you for your offer."

He breaks out into the widest, happiest smile I’ve seen on a man before. It’s the kind of smile that tells me why people choose to fall in love.

Chapter 16

Vincenzo

After we’re dressed, I lead Camela down the hallway while she takes in the surroundings of my home and now, hers.

This must be a difficult transition for her. Overnight, she’s to make a strange house her home.

The marble floor beneath our feet gleams in the warm glow from the sunlight spilling in through the floor to ceiling to aluminum French windows. I can sense her delight looking out at the sprawling lawns and flowers and it brings a smile to my face.

"Camela, this is your home now," I say, hoping to ease any lingering apprehension she might have. "Feel free to explore and make yourself comfortable. There’s no corner of this home that’s not open to you."

She looks at me, a small, naughty look in her eye. “Even your bedroom?” she whispers. Then she gives me a wink.

"Especially my bedroom," I reply with a sly smile, catching the mischievous glint in her eyes. "But only if you promise not to snoop around too much."

“Why? You got another damsel in distress somewhere in there?”

“Not another,” I tell her. “Just a few.”

She playfully whacks me on my shoulder and I burst out into laughter.

As we continue our tour, I introduce her to the people who keep this place running smoothly: Giovanni, my housekeeper, and Mario, the head of security. I take a moment to address them both.

"Gentlemen, Camela is a guest in this house, and I expect you to cater to her every need. Do I make myself clear?"

"Of course, Sir," they reply in unison, nodding respectfully.

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