The Don’s Deadly Assassin

5. Camela

Camela

Chapter 5

I take one last look at my reflection in the mirror. No one would guess that under the beige satin, figure-hugging gown, my thin frame packs a mass of muscle.

My gold-green smoky eyes betray nothing of the deadly intent hidden beneath my charming exterior. And the elegant jewelry underscores my status at such a high-class event.

If I dress the right part, who would suspect me, right?

The Handler’s lessons always guide me when I prepare: “Pick every part of your outfit with calculated care. Each piece must serve you in your purpose.”

"Functionality is key," I remind myself as I pick a clever bracelet with a concealed pin that extends when triggered, ready to cut at a moment's notice. The needle scratches the skin, delivering the poison.

Carefully, I clasp it around my wrist, the cold metal encircling my wrist like a snake. I breathe deeply to relax, knowing that the anti-venom is in a hidden compartment on the underside.

As a backup, I slip a small, elegant gun into the folds of my purse. It is lightweight yet packs enough power to bring down any threat.

As I place the gun in a hidden pocket, a gleam catches my eye - the golden arrow resting among the bedazzled trinkets. Picking it up, I examine its intricate design, running my fingers over the detailed etchings that cover its surface.

I twist the arrowhead gently, revealing the hidden mechanism that reduces the arrow to just its ornate head.

It defies all laws of physics every time I see the arrow do this. Impressed by the brilliant craftsmanship, I deem that it could prove useful. I slip it into my purse, pleased with my growing arsenal.

What souvenir might I pick from tonight’s hunt?

I ignore the valet’s offer to help me park and choose a spot near the exit gates. I won’t leave the success of my escape up to anyone but myself.

The night air kisses my skin as I step out of my car and begin the walk up to the Consolini mansion.

It was a disappointing challenge to get myself invited. I hacked his digital labyrinth of firewalls and encryption protocols and added my details to the guest list.

With the custom-made scripts that the Handler, the Snake and I developed, bypassing the authentication measures was child’s play. The Don’s security was no match for my skills.

"Ah, the things the mighty forget to focus on when their power makes them careless," I muse, thinking how Don Vincenzo Consolini probably believes himself to be untouchable simply by virtue of his position in this world.

I ascend the three marble steps leading to the ornately carved double-door entrance. The armed guards towering on each side miss nothing. Little do they know I’ve been watching them far longer than they have me.

The doorman smiles as I give him my coat and pass through the foyer and into the main hall.

As I step inside, I'm immediately engulfed by the opulence of my surroundings. The chandeliers cast a warm glow over the guests, their laughter swinging to the music of the string quartet.

The soft clinking of glasses adds a haunting melody, one I’ll never get used to.

I don’t belong here, but I’ve been trained to fit in wherever I go. I assess the scene and walk towards a waiter holding a tray of champagne. I pick one.

"Stunning, isn't it?" A gentleman to my left murmurs, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Indeed," I agree, feigning awe. In reality, this excess only fuels my resolve. It's time to strike and be rid of my Handler’s enemy.

I keep on a coy smile, giving gentle nods to the men who part to let me pass. I navigate through the influential crowd with ease, my focus unwavering. I scan each face, and my senses are heightened, every instinct honed to perfection.

And then, like a tiger in a jungle, I spot my prey in the midst of hundreds. Vincenzo weaves through the crowd, his confident stride drawing admiring glances from the guests.

Now, I need his attention. I begin to walk towards him with deliberate grace, and when I am inches from him, I see his eyes flicker in my direction.

Just at that point, I turn to my left, right in the direction of a distracted walking man and pretend to open my purse to look for something. As per my calculations, the man bumps right into me.

“Oh, goodness me!” I exclaim loudly, holding onto my chest with one arm while pretending to lose my balance.

The man reaches over to grab me, holding me up.

“My apologies, miss. I didn’t notice you there,” he says. “Are you quite alright?”

I look down and gaze at him through downward-cast eyes. “No damage done,” I say and squeeze his shoulder before walking by.

Then, I turn and look at the floor behind me, searching for–

“Are you looking for this, miss?” my prey walks straight into my trap. I gasp in surprise and stare right at the lipstick I dropped during my little collision.

Vincenzo's eyes sparkle with amusement as he holds out the tube towards me, a charming smile playing on his lips.

"Here you go, wouldn't want a lady as elegant as yourself to lose such a lovely shade," he quips, his voice smooth and velvety.

I take the lipstick from him with a grateful nod. "Thank you," I reply, flashing him a coy smile that I know accentuates the sparkle in my eyes.

Playing the part of the demure maiden, I let my fingers brush against him as I took back the lipstick.

His gaze lingers on mine for a heartbeat too long, the air crackling with an unspoken tension between us. At that moment, I see a flicker of something in Vincenzo's expression, a glint of curiosity or perhaps interest.

"Good evening," he says, extending a hand again with a charming smile. "I'm Vincenzo. And you are?"

"Camela," I reply, taking his hand delicately, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. For some reason, a little shiver goes down my spine. I remind myself it’s just a fleeting connection that will soon be severed. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise," he grins. His eyes flick to my knuckles. He’s looking for a ring. "What brings a beautiful woman like you around to my humble party?"

"Oh, I simply couldn't resist the allure of such a grand event," I answer coyly, batting my lashes for added effect. "Considering how I was invited," I flash my invitation to him.

He blushes, and I know why. I’ve read enough human psychology to know he wouldn’t dare get caught not knowing who was on his guest list. It’s unbecoming.

He covers his tracks, going with familiarity. “Of course you were, Camela,” he nods and gives me his arm. I take it, and he guides me towards the bar. He wouldn’t dare pry further for fear of coming across as rude.

Which is an excellent outcome, considering there’s no reason for him to get to know me truly.

We reach the bar, and he gets us both glasses of champagne. I could drop something in his champagne, but then this little hunt would be so short. I want to stalk him just a little longer. I notice four dazzling modern art pieces behind the bar.

A mischievous smile curls at the corners of my lips as I begin to engage Vincenzo in a verbal fencing match. "I must say, I admire your taste in art," I offer, gesturing to a nearby painting. "The colors are so... vibrant."

"Ah, yes," he replies, following my gaze. "It's one of my favorites. The artist truly captured the essence of life and passion. You like vibrant art?”

"I prefer something more... mysterious," I respond, maintaining eye contact while allowing my fingers to graze his arm ever so slightly. "Art that makes you question what lies beneath the surface."

"Interesting," Vincenzo muses, his eyes narrowing playfully. "You truly are a woman of many layers."

I shrug playfully, batting my lashes.

“Tell me, Camela,” he gushes. “Would you care for a dance?”

“Oh, I could never deny a dance,” I say, knowing full well that our bodies would be pressed close together, creating the perfect opportunity for a subtle exchange of trust.

The music shifts to a sultry tango, and we take our positions on the dance floor. Our eyes never leave each other's, locked in a hypnotic gaze that only heightens the tension between us.

With every step, twist, and turn, we move in perfect harmony—two deadly predators on the hunt.

The Huntress and the Don.

His strong arms encircle my waist, holding me firmly yet tenderly. I can't help but admire his skill and grace on the dance floor.

"Your footwork is impeccable, Vincenzo," I compliment him, my voice dripping with honeyed sweetness. "I can see why you're known as a man of many talents."

“Oh, so you’ve heard of my talents?” he teases.

I flash a coy smile, my fingers lightly grazing his neck. "I make it my business to know all about interesting men like yourself," I reply.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

I shrug, “Looking for a quick payday. I heard divorces are quite the get-rich-quick scheme nowadays.”

He pauses for a moment, looking absolutely mortified. Then, he notices the smirk on my face and almost doubles over with laughter. "My, my, Camela. I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed. Haven’t you heard of the dozen ex-wives I already support? My coffers are empty.”

“Unless we find enough coffins,” I give him a taste of my dark humor.

He and I both know that there are no ex-wives.

“I usually appreciate a woman who speaks her mind, but this time around,” he chuckles, “I might just fear it.”

How little he knows of the truth he speaks.

The violins rise in a crescendo as Vincenzo leads me effortlessly across the polished marble floor. With each step, I feel him studying me – how I react to his guidance. When I feign glee, he inches closer. When I look bored, he picks up the pace.

As the music reaches its climax, I sense the perfect opportunity. My focus must be on getting the timing right – no matter how tantalizing our interaction becomes.

After a few more dances, I begin to pretend I’m tired. I pull away from his grip and fan my face.

“Goodness,” I murmur. “It is hot in here, isn’t it?”

"If I may be so bold, I suggest we step outside for some fresh air?"

“A suggestion I welcome,” I bite my lower lip and smile at him, already knowing where this is heading.

Fifteen minutes from now, he won’t ever know what hit him.