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Minutes felt like hours as I kept my watch on that door, anxiety building with each passing moment. The dim light from the windows flickered, casting eerie shadows on the deserted street.
I found myself caught in a whirlwind of thoughts, second-guessing my decision to tail the Mancini member. Should I have been more direct, confronting him right there on the street? But no, that could have easily turned into a messy situation.
Time dragged on, and my patience wore thin. Doubt started to creep in. Was there any point in waiting around like this? I couldn't hear what was happening inside. Perhaps they were aware of my presence and were intentionally stalling, or maybe their meeting was taking longer than expected.
I glanced around, suddenly hyper-aware of my surroundings. Were there prying eyes observing me from the shadows? But the street remained empty, devoid of any obvious threat. If they had discovered me, then they would have made their move already.
I tried to shift my weight to get some circulation going in my stiff, hunched legs. Without invitation, my mind wandered to the woman I had left at the bar, Griselda. I couldn't shake the image of her bewildered expression at my abrupt departure.
I wondered just how much she felt offended by my unexplained exit. Despite the urgency of the situation meriting my actions, a flicker of regret tugged at me for the way our interaction had been cut short.
Despite my typically guarded nature, I had found myself at ease with her, revealing more to her than I had intended. It was unusual for me to be so captivated by someone in such a short period.
For the first time in a long while, I had let my guard down, even mentioning that I was the CEO of Royalty Rentals. Of course, she hadn't believed me. The irony of that thought made me chuckle.
I contemplated how she would react if she discovered that I hadn’t been lying. Would it shatter the image she had built of me? I smirked at the notion, envisioning the surprise on her face.
Griselda had an air of strength and independence. She also seemed like she wasn't someone who was easily swayed. The idea of her finding out that I had been telling the truth intrigued me.
My surveillance of the old building persisted, but Griselda's image refused to fade from my thoughts as a peculiar thought crossed my mind.
What if Griselda were to discover my true identity, that I was entangled with the very criminal world she might be fighting against in her capacity as a lawyer? Would she be horrified? Would she attempt to bring me to justice?
The absurdity of the idea couldn't help but draw a wry smile from my lips.
Griselda's fiery spirit, her tenacity, and, yes, her playfulness all intrigued me. It was as if a collision between our two worlds had formed an unexpected connection.
The notion of her trying to put me behind bars was almost hilarious. I couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image of her passionately arguing her case in a courtroom, determined to see me behind bars.
But beneath the amusement lay a genuine curiosity about how Griselda would react. Would she confront me directly? Or would she choose a more calculated approach, digging deeper into my life to uncover the truth?
Her resourcefulness and intelligence were evident in the brief time we had spent together, leaving no doubt in my mind that she could be a formidable adversary if she put her mind to it.
The thought of our paths crossing in such a conflicting manner held a strange allure. I couldn't deny that I was drawn to her.
I shook my head and refocused. I was here for a reason, but it seemed I should abandon my post and rethink my strategy. Standing up slowly from behind the parked car, I shook out my legs, relief flooding through my calves.
But just as I was about to retreat, the night erupted with panicked shouts and desperate pleas. Curiosity overtook my caution, and I quickly returned to my hiding spot, peering intently at the Chinese restaurant.
In the dim light that spilled onto the street, I could see Mancini’s man being dragged out of the restaurant, a man at each limb. Four of them, each gripping the struggling man with an iron grip.
What the fuck was going on? I shifted around the car so I could get a closer look.
The mafioso’s face contorted in fear and desperation. He was begging for his life, a torrent of words that were barely comprehensible in his panicked state.
A knot tightened in my stomach as I watched, torn between my goal and a moral dilemma. Should I stay hidden, let this unfold, gather intel, and use it to my advantage later? Should I intervene? The conflicting desires warred within me.
Fear painted the man's face as he dangled helplessly, his limbs restrained by the iron grip of his assailants.
"Mi dispiace! (I’m sorry!)" he pleaded in Italian, his voice tinged with a genuine sense of terror. "Mi dispiace! Non sapevo che sarebbe stato qui. Per favore, risparmiami la vita. Non abbasserò di nuovo la guardia. (I'm sorry! I didn't know he would be here. Please spare my life. I won't let my guard down again.)”
Their response was callous and ruthless. With a callous indifference that made my blood run cold, they let him drop to the ground. The impact echoed through the quiet area, a sickening thud that made me wince involuntarily. The man scrambled to his knees, still begging for mercy.
I couldn't fathom the turn of events. Wasn't he one of them? Why had he come here only to face what seemed like an execution?
He prostrated himself, forehead touching the ground.
The four menacing figures stared down at him, their faces hidden in the darkness. I still couldn’t see who they were.
