Page 46 of The Don's Deadly Assassin

"Very well," I say, satisfied. “Givoanni will give you all the personal intercom numbers for the laundry room, kitchen, transport and other important functions. Anything you need, you can use the phone in your room,” I tell Camela.

Then, I guide her towards the kitchen, where the smell of freshly baked bread and simmering sauces fills the air. She breathes in deeply, a look of delight crossing her face.

"Vincenzo, it smells amazing in here!" Camela exclaims with enthusiasm.

"Then allow me to introduce you to the person responsible for only the best food in all of Italia." My voice takes on a tone of pride as we approach Francesca, the head chef. She's busily stirring a pot of something that smells heavenly.

"Francesca, meet Camela. Camela, this is Francesca, the mastermind behind the best food in the world!"

"Is that so?" Camela asks, grinning at my exaggeration.

"Indeed, it is!" I proclaim, placing a hand on Francesca's shoulder. "You won't find better food anywhere else, I guarantee it."

"Buongiorno, Camela," Francesca greets her warmly."Spero che apprezzerai i pasti che prepariamo per te." -I hope you will enjoy the meals we prepare for you.

"Thank you, Francesca. I'm sure I will," Camela replies, her expression genuine.

“How about we put that claim to the test right away?” I suggest, rubbing my hands with delight. “After all,” I whisper in Camela’s ear. “We did build up quite the appetite last night.”

The sunlight streams in through the window, casting streaks of brightness on the long wooden breakfast table where Camela and I sit. The aroma of coffee, eggs, sausages and freshly baked pastries fills the air as we dig into the breakfast prepared by Francesca and her team.

"My god," Camela praises between bites, her eyes shining with delight.

"Francesca never disappoints," I agree, savoring the buttery croissant that seems to melt in my mouth. As much as I want to linger here, enjoying this moment with Camela, there are pressing matters weighing on my mind. Just because I have to protect her now doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten my other promises. "I have some work to attend to, but I won't be long. Please, make yourself at home."

"Of course," she says graciously, returning her attention to her plate.

With a reluctant smile, I leave Camela in the kitchen and make my way to my office. Closing the door behind me, I let out a deep sigh. It's time to focus on something I've been avoiding for far too long – the mysterious death of my dear friend, the Professor.

I settle into my leather chair, its familiar creak offering a sense of comfort amid my growing unease. My fingers drum against the polished mahogany desk—a sign of my reluctance to face the truth about Julian's passing—but I can't ignore it any longer.

"Alright," I mutter under my breath, steeling myself for the task at hand, "let's find out what happened to you, Julian."

Pulling open the top drawer, I retrieve a manila folder labeled "Castellano" and spread its contents across my desk. Photos of the wreckage he discovered off the coast of Sicily stare back at me, and I wonder if his fascination with that underwater archaeological site ultimately led to his demise.

"Julian, what did you get yourself into?" I murmur.

I spend hours poring over Julian's research notes and correspondences that my tech guy put together. It is a mountain of information to sift through in order to find the truth that remains so elusive.

But one thing is clear – whatever secrets my friend unearthed, they were important enough for someone to take drastic measures to silence him.

I pick up the phone, my fingers drumming impatiently on the desk as I dial the first number.

"Armondo, it's Vincenzo," I say when the call connects. "I was hoping you could help me with something."

"Vincenzo! I’m still shaking off the hangover from last night’s party, my friend. How can I be of service?"

"Did you hear about Julian Castellano's death?" I ask my voice tight with controlled emotion.

"Of course, terrible news... I thought he was in good health," he replies, genuine concern evident in his tone. "What happened?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out," I admit. "Is there anything strange you noticed or heard about him lately?"

"Nothing comes to mind at the moment," Armondo says after a brief pause. "But I'll keep an ear out for any whispers that might be relevant."

"Thank you, dear friend. I appreciate it." I hang up and immediately dial another number, my impatience growing with each unanswered question.

"Hey, Sofia, it's Vincenzo. Listen, I'm looking into Julian Castellano's death—"

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