Page 67 of The Don's Deadly Assassin

Chapter 24

Vincenzo

I pace back and forth near the food stalls, balancing the two plates of rosti and sausages as I look out for Camela. It feels like an eternity since she left and I’m wondering if she got lost.

Should I go and look for her? Even the most seasoned visitor could take a wrong turn in the winding streets of the night market.

Then I spot a colorful skirt through the crowd and a wave of relief washes over me as Camela finally arrives. Her face is flushed, her breathing slightly labored, and it's evident something has happened. I rush towards her, my concern growing by the second.

"Camela, are you alright?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

She smiles weakly, attempting to reassure me. "Yes, Vincenzo, I'm fine. Just a little out of breath from rushing back to you. It was so crowded … I got overwhelmed and a little lost.”

"Are you sure, cara mia?" I press on, not quite ready to drop my concerns. "You seem... off."

She sighs, running a hand through her disheveled hair. "Really, Vincenzo, I promise. I just had a bit of a scare when I couldn’t find the right place on my way back. Nothing to worry about."

"Alright," I relent, giving her a smile. "Let's eat, then. You must be starving."

"Let's dig in," she gushes, forcing a smile onto her face. At least, it looks forced to me. I worry if there’s something she might be keeping from me, but decide not to question her further, at the risk of sounding intrusive. "This all looks amazing, Vincenzo."

"You’re welcome," I reply, watching as she eagerly digs into the food. As we eat, I try to put aside my lingering doubts and focus on the meal in front of us.

Once we finish eating, we stroll back to the car, driving home in companionable silence while we listen to some music. So much has happened today, with that video message that the lawyer delivered, that I can use some time to think.

I remind myself to call my men first thing in the morning, to see if they found that arrow. If they don’t find it…

We’ll, the hunt for my friend’s murderer could take while. But I’m willing to put in as many resources as necessary.

As we pull up to the house and step out of the car, I notice Camela’s arms are empty.

"Camela, where's your new waistcoat? Is it still in the car?”

I open the car door again and begin to searching the interior for the missing garment. I check her seat, the backseat, the side storages. Nothing.

"Could it be under your seat?" I ask, my disappointment evident on my face as I lean into the car, ready to turn the seat back to search for the waistcoat. Just as my hand reaches for the lever, Camela's voice stops me.

"Vincenzo, wait," she says softly, placing a hand on my arm.

I pause and straighten, turning to look up at where she’s standing on the steps. Her eyes are filled with regret, and I can tell she's struggling to find the right words. "I'm so sorry," she whispers. "The waistcoat... I lost it when I went to the washroom today. I didn't mean to."

"Lost it?" I repeat. “The very first gift I ever bought you?”

Camela bites her lip, clearly upset by the situation. "I was just so overwhelmed and wasn’t thinking right. I left it near the sink before heading into the washroom, and when I came out, it was nowhere to be found. It meant so much to me and I feel terrible for losing it,” she looks away, trying to blink back tears.

I take a deep breath, trying to quell my irritation. The disappointment at the lost gift battles with my growing concern for Camela's well-being. Not only did she get disorientated alone on her way back from the washroom, but she seems genuinely distraught by the situation, and I can't help but feel guilty for compounding her distress with my indignation.

"It's okay, Camela," I say softly, reaching out to gently cup her face in my hands. "It's just a waistcoat. I can always get you another one. But I’m worried about what’s going on. You just seem … a little off today."

“I’m sorry, Vincenzo,” Camela replies, her voice barely above a whisper. She leans into my touch for a moment before stepping back, her expression conflicted.

"Today has been... overwhelming. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what the lawyer said. If Professor Castellano was killed for this arrow, and you’re out there looking for it now, how soon before people find out? Before they come looking for you too? I’ve been worried sick over your safety, Vincenzo,” her voice chokes up at the end.

My heart skips a beat at her words, and my concern for the lost waistcoat pales in comparison to the new threat. Camela’s worried for me. That can’t do. It’s my job to worry for her, to keep her safe, to soothe her fears.

As much as I want to plan out how to find my friend’s killer and this arrow, I still force myself to stay focused on Camela, who is clearly shaken by the day’s events.

As I gaze into her eyes, their deep brown depths shimmering with unshed tears, any lingering disappointment over the lost waistcoat dissipates. My heart swells with love for her, and I suddenly feel foolish for allowing something as trivial as a missing gift to come between us.

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