Page 55 of The Don's Deadly Assassin

Vincenzo

The scent of burning candles lingers as I lead Camela into the living room. It’s a tradition Giovanni likes to maintain. No electricity in the house after ten p.m. except in the bedrooms.

It’s one my men and I have often balked at, but tonight, the flickering candlelight feels like a gift for Camela and I.

"Come," I guide her further into the room with a gentle hand on the small of her back.

"Beautiful," she whispers, her eyes taking in the surroundings. "This feels cozy, like home.”

"Home," I repeat, my gaze lingering on her face. Her eyes sparkle and I think of how fortunate I am to have her by my side.

Turning my attention to the men stationed outside the doors, I give them a nod. "Leave us," I command, my voice firm, yet quiet. "Ensure we are not disturbed."

I close the door to the living room and walk towards the antique bar cart. The crystal decanter catches the light, sending shimmers across the room as I lift it, pouring two glasses of brandy.

The amber liquid swirls hypnotically as I hand one to her, our fingers brushing for a brief moment, sending a spark of excitement through me.

"Thank you," Camela murmurs, sipping at the brandy, her eyes never leaving mine.

"Of course," I reply, taking a sip of my own drink. The warmth of the alcohol spreads through me, emboldening my thoughts. "So, what shall we do with this precious time alone?"

"Maybe some music?" she suggests, glancing around the room. The corners of my mouth tug upwards into a mischievous smile.

"Music, you say? I believe I can do better than that." I set my glass down and approach the grand piano, its smooth surface gleaming under the soft light from the garden paths filtering in through the curtains.

Positioning myself on the elegant bench, I run my fingers along the cool, smooth keys, enjoying the familiar thrill of playing.

"Ready for some magic?" I ask with a confident grin, glancing at Camela. She nods eagerly, watching my fingers hover over the keys before pressing down gently, releasing hauntingly beautiful notes from the song Caruso by Lucio Dalla.

"Vincenzo... I didn't know you could play," awed, she sets her own glass down and moves closer.

"Ah, well, there are many things you don't know about me yet, cara mia," I confess, my hands still moving gracefully across the piano keys. With each note, I can feel my connection to Camela grow stronger, more intimate. As she stands beside me, I wonder if she feels it too.

"Your music is enchanting, Vincenzo," Camela whispers, her words like silk against my skin. "It makes me feel alive."

"Music has the power to awaken our deepest emotions," I explain, my fingers never faltering as they glide effortlessly across the keys. "And when played with passion, it can move us in ways we never thought possible."

“You speak true,” she concedes. For a few seconds, I play in silence and then, the most beautiful voice fills the room. I look up, fingers still on my keys, to see Camela’s eyes closed.

Her mouth is parted open, releasing the most lustrous voice I’ve heard by this piano’s stand. It’s rich, smooth, with the passion and clarity of youth, evident in her melodic quality.

I hear her, entranced. Each word seeps through my veins:

“Qui dove il mare luccica, E tira forte il vento, Sulla vecchia terrazza, Davanti al golfo di Surriento.”

"Here, where the sea sparkles, And the wind blows strong, On the old terrace, In front of the Gulf of Sorrento."

Her dazzling voice resonates through the room, and my fingers dance gracefully across the piano keys as if possessed by her voice itself. I no longer remain the orchestrator of this music.

She runs through me, guiding me.

I feel alive, so vivid and clear with every breath, every movement, every form of life in this world. I feel like a boy in the prime of his youth, thanks to Camela.

The song ends.

"Vincenzo," Camela breathes, her voice barely audible as she inches closer. Her eyes shimmer with unspoken emotions and I know she wants another song. I begin our next duet and she opens her mouth to sing, sending shivers down my spine.

"Ti amo, ti amerò, finché vivrò," she croons, the words rolling off her tongue like liquid gold, filling the air with their sweet promise of love eternal.

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