16. Vincenzo
Vincenzo
Chapter 16
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.
"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—"
"Vincenzo, I had no idea that he had passed. The news was such a shock; we all thought he was as healthy as a bull," she interrupts, her voice tinged with sadness. "Can you even believe it?”
“I can’t, and that’s why I’m calling. Does it seem–”
“Suspicious?” she cuts me off again. “It does. It’s too simple for him to just die like that, without cause or reason. That too, at the pinnacle of success.”
“Do you have any concrete leads, Sofia? I need to know if there's anything unusual you've heard or seen regarding him."
"Nothing comes to mind," Sofia says apologetically. "But I'll definitely let you know if I stumble across any information that might help."
"Thanks, Sofia. Take care." I ended the call disappointed but no less determined.
“Julian, I promise I will find out who did this to you, no matter what it takes.”
I dial another number, then another, each conversation mirroring the previous ones. But someone out there knows something, and I won't rest until I find them.
Two hours slip away from me as I sit at my mahogany desk, having moved on to other matters of importance. The room feels darker, and the sunlight streaming through the window is now a cool orange.
Papers are sprawled out before me as I attempt to focus on the business numbers. I’ve barely reconciled two bank statements, and I had to go through six.
"Damn it," I mutter under my breath, running a hand through my hair. My mind keeps wandering back to Camela. There’s no denying that I’m drawn to her.
I tap my pen against the desk, all thoughts of business pushed aside by the knowledge that Camela’s here, in my house, and every fiber of my being yearns to be near her.
"Enough," I say to myself, standing up abruptly and pushing my chair back. "Camela deserves my time and attention, especially on her first day here."
I glance at the clock hanging on the wall – it's not even close to the end of my usual workday. I will double my efforts tomorrow. I need to help her settle in. Then, I’ll be free to get back to work. A few days, that’s all I need to make sure she’s comfortable around here.
Or so I tell myself.
As I stride towards the door, I feel a sense of excitement building within me. Spending time with Camela is like walking through an enchanting garden, waiting to discover the next magnificent bloom.
Stepping out of my office, I catch sight of her lounging on an antique couch in the alcove right outside. A book rests in her hands, her eyes scanning the pages intently.
The soft light from a nearby window bathes her in a warm glow, accentuating the curve of her cheek and the delicate arch of her brow.
A strange sensation courses through me – one of familiarity and comfort, as if seeing her here is the most natural thing in the world.
"Camela," I call softly, not wanting to startle her.
She looks up from her book, her eyes meeting mine. A slow smile spreads across her face as she closes the book and sets it aside. "Vincenzo," she replies, her voice like honey. "You’ve finished working?"
"I felt it was important to spend some time with you, especially since it's your first day here."
"That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you, Vincenzo." She pauses, her gaze flickering to the book she was reading. "I found this fascinating novel in your library, but I must admit, I'm glad for the company."
"May I join you?" I ask, gesturing towards the empty space beside her on the couch.
"Of course," she responds gracefully, patting the cushion in invitation.
As I sit down next to her, our knees brushing against each other, I can't help but think about how effortlessly Camela has made herself at home in my world. A sudden curiosity grips me, and I find myself asking, "What were you reading?"
"Ah, it's a mystery novel – quite thrilling, actually." She hands me the book, her fingers brushing against mine as she does so.
I glance at the cover, intrigued by her choice.
“Maybe I could read it once you’re done?”
“It’s got a lot of blood in it,” she warns me.
“I’ve seen plenty,” I remind her of my station in life.
She smiles.
"Camela," I begin, my voice now soft yet earnest, "I was thinking...if you’re done reading, would you allow me to take you out for dinner tonight?"
She looks right at me, her eyes bright with curiosity and warmth. "I'd love to, Vincenzo. That sounds wonderful."
"Excellent," I reply, my chest swelling with pride and anticipation. "I thought it might be nice to treat you to a special evening– just the two of us.”
Camela tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm looking forward to it."