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"This is personal now," I assert looking at Ella for a second, the depth of my conviction evident. She is standing a few feet away from me, her expression unreadable. "I need to do this alone. Less chance of things going awry."
Francesco gives a curt nod, respecting my decision. "Alright."
I run a hand through my hair, going through a plan in my mind. "We'll gather intel immediately, understand his routine, and hit him when he least expects it." Francesco nods.
"Assemble men to scout and provide backup. But I go after him. He will die from my bullet," I assert, my eyes narrowing with anger. "Mauro needs to understand the consequences of crossing us, of touching my loved ones."
Francesco nods in agreement. "And the pregnant woman in the office?"
"You stay with her. We promised her safety in exchange for the information," I reply. "We'll honor the deal." With the plan outlined, Francesco heads off to gather the men. This is more than business; it's personal. I never knew Ella could be half the reason I would feel so vengeful.
The lounge breathes in the dim glow. Francesco and I are locked in discussion, mapping out the intricate details of our strike. As Francesco meticulously outlines the final strokes, a soft voice weaves its way into our conversation. Ella is watching us. Her eyes connect with mine, and I see a gloominess in them.
"I can help…" she says, her voice soft. I steal a glance at Francesco. He looks hesitant and so do I.
"Ella, this isn't your fight," I say, my tone hesitant. I can’t gamble with her safety again.
She dismisses my concern with a subtle shake of her head. "I have an idea." An uncertainty mirrors between Francesco and me as we confront Ella's words. She looks at me with hopeful eyes. I can’t resist them.
"Tell us," I prompt with a sigh. She smiles at me.
"I can play bait for Mauro," she proposes. "I'll send him an email, asking for an interview at his most popular club in the city. He won't be able to resist the chance to boast about himself. That’s what I have gauged from what his wife told me."
Francesco raises an eyebrow, contemplating the viability of the proposal. I’m torn between shielding her from harm and considering the success of her plan. I don’t know what to do.
"I don't want you in harm's way," I confess my concern.
"I know... but this way, we can catch him off guard, just like you planned. I'll be fine." Despite my lingering reservations, I find myself nodding in agreement.
"Alright. Let's go with it," I concede, scratching my forehead.
She nods, and I spot a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. "I'll send the email tonight. Mauro won't suspect a thing until it's too late." As Ella steps away to set her plan in motion, my gaze shifts to Francesco. Did I do the right thing?
"We're putting her in the line of fire," Francesco comments with concern filling his voice.
"I know," I reply, the gravity of the decision settling on my shoulders. "But I trust her." He nods. Ella and I step into the office again and she sits at my desk, opening my laptop. She taps away. I watch her, my eyes tracing the movements of her fingers across the keyboard.
She looks like the same girl I saw at The Odeon the night we first met. The same passion. The same fervor. The same boldness. She glances up, meeting my gaze with a small smile. "It's done," she declares, her voice carrying a quiet confidence. I approach her, standing beside the table, and read through the email. After I nod, she clicks the send button.
Her eyes remain fixed on the screen for a few seconds, and then her expression finally shows a hint of anxiety. I can sense the responsibility she feels in this moment, how this can make or break everything. She holds her breath and so do I.
Seconds stretch into minutes, the only sound in the room is the soft hum of the laptop. Then, a ping breaks the quiet, and Ella's eyes widen with accomplishment. It’s him. The email has been received, and Mauro, true to the drama of his world, responds promptly.
"He's agreed to the interview," she announces, her voice betraying a hint of excitement. I lean in closer, my eyes scanning the screen to confirm what she's just said. The reply from Mauro is concise but laden with an air of self-assurance.
"I'm intrigued, Miss Hart. Meet me at Club Sereno, next Wednesday night, at 9:00pm. We can discuss the interview over drinks. " Motherfucker. Such a pervert. A ripple of tension courses through the room. Ella glances at me.
“Good job,” I smile. She closes the laptop with a decisive click, the screen going dark.
"We're one step closer," she says, her eyes meeting mine. I nod and kiss her cheek. As she rises from the chair, I can't help but feel a surge of admiration for her. She's willingly stepped into the lion's den for me. She glances at me, and for a moment, our eyes lock.
I struggle to put into words how grateful I am for her help, so I just lean into her and kiss her, trying to find another way to convey my feelings for her with my lips.
Chapter Thirty-One
ELLA
A few days later
