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Just then, the door of the Chinese restaurant creaked open, and a lone figure emerged. It didn't take long for me to realize this man was different. His posture exuded power and authority. The way he moved, unhurried and confident, spoke of someone accustomed to being in control.
Questions ricocheted in my mind like stray bullets in the darkness. Who was this man, and what power did he hold within the Mancini organization? My gaze remained fixed on the unfolding drama.
The mafioso, now seemingly resigned to his fate, raised his head as the authoritative figure drew closer. The figure crouched, bringing himself to the same level as the trembling man. Their words were too muffled for me to comprehend, but the fear etched on the man's face spoke volumes.
"Non sapevo davvero che sarebbe stato lì. Non è mai venuto al club prima(I really didn't know he would be there. He has never come to the club before)," the man stammered, his words desperately seeking mercy. His trembling voice betrayed his terror.
Were they talking about me?
The figure lingered, listening to the man's plea before straightening up and giving a silent signal to the four guards. As if puppets were responding to their master's command, they moved, and my heart pounded at what happened next.
The man on the ground, driven by desperation, began crawling forward, hoping for mercy, but the guards, cold and merciless, showed no compassion.
One of them raised a gun and fired a bullet that tore through the man's thigh. The wail of agony that escaped him pierced through the air, and I wondered if someone had heard from afar.
I winced.
The man fell, writhing in agony with blood pooling beneath him, staining the pavement a dark, gruesome shade.
A second shot shattered the air, and this time, it found its mark in the man's head. His burly body is now still. His life was extinguished in an instant.
My stomach churned at the violence I had just witnessed. This was the reality of the criminal underworld, and this was why I wanted out.
I remained frozen in my hiding spot as the five men walked back into the building. The leader then paused and glanced around, making me duck lower behind the car. I stayed like that, not wanting to risk drawing attention. When the door closed behind them, I cautiously peered around the car.
The men were gone, but the lifeless body of the executed Mancini mafioso remained. Had they intended to leave him there?
Questions bounced around in my mind like a ceaseless storm. Was this an internal strife within the Mancini family, or was there another faction involved? Was the man I had followed a traitor? And if so, to whom - the Mancini family or this mysterious group?
Employing great caution, I left the scene and made my way back to where I had parked my car.
With the possibility that there was another gang involved with the Mancini family that we didn’t know about, it looked like things were about to become more serious than I had thought.
Chapter 6
Griselda
Twodayshadpassedsince that peculiar encounter with Emilio, and I couldn't shake the memory of it. There was an inexplicable allure to his presence, a magnetic force that kept drawing my thoughts back to that night.
Despite his infuriating and abrupt exit, I found myself wanting to meet him again, if only to give him a piece of my mind.
I did the most embarrassing thing a woman in my shoes could do and went to the club each night. It was as if an invisible thread pulled me there, hoping to catch another glimpse of him.
Or perhaps, deep down, I just hoped to understand why he had left so abruptly and confirm his parting words that it wasn’t because of me.
Visiting the place three days in a row hadn't made it lose its charm. The lively chatter, the rhythmic pulse of music, and the clinking of glasses created a vibrant ambiance. Each visit fueled a blend of curiosity and frustration within me.
I told myself that I was here for other reasons - to unwind after work but, inevitably, my eyes would scan the crowd, hoping to spot that face that had etched itself into my memory.
It was a perplexing attraction. First, I was drawn into a conversation I did not seek, then unexpectedly enjoyed said conversation. Perhaps it was the way he carried himself with a certain grace. There was something to him that I couldn't ignore.
He had stood me up in the most perplexing and rude manner, and yet, something about him made me want to know more. It made me wish we could at least have shared that kiss before whatever made him jump up and run.
As I sat at the bar, nursing a drink and pretending to be engrossed in my phone, my thoughts wandered back to our playful banter. Was he really the CEO of Royalty Rentals? What had he intended to achieve with such a joke? Was he hiding something beneath his cool composure?
Minutes ticked by as I observed each newcomer, hoping to spot that familiar face, but time played its own game. I chastised myself for becoming so fixated on a stranger, a man I knew nothing about.
A new arrival took a chair at the bar. My heart quickened, and I glanced in that direction. But it wasn't him. It's just another face lost in the crowd. Disappointed, I sighed, a strange mix of emotions swirling within me. It seemed absurd to be affected this way, and yet, here I was.
