Well, here's an interesting tale to recount. Angelo, an individual who possesses a peculiar influence over me, unlike anyone else before. It's as if he possesses some mysterious power to manipulate my emotions, making me believe he's deserving of my affection. Strangely enough, a part of my mind seems to be undergoing a transformation, urging me to grant Angelo a chance. This newfound voice insists that his efforts are solely directed towards me, that every ounce of love he offers is meant for my sake. Apparently, he's sacrificing various aspects of himself solely for my benefit. There's a side of me that I never knew existed, one that contends he's worth it. It claims that with him, I can rediscover happiness: the joy of smiling, laughing, and experiencing a general sense of contentment. Of course, I repeatedly admonish myself, stating that we're an incompatible pair and that Angelo doesn't deserve someone like me. Nevertheless, against my better judgment, I somehow find a tiny space within me that whispers "yes."
In a rare moment of vulnerability, I found myself faced with an unexpected emotion yesterday as we were on the run. Against all odds, a smile crept onto my face, something I hadn't experienced in ages. I attempted to conceal it from Angelo, but I suspect he caught a glimpse of it. Surprisingly, I didn't feel the usual need to hide it from him. It had been such a long time since I last felt the simple pleasure of smiling that this newfound sensation was truly remarkable. I turned towards Angelo, my eyes possibly reflecting a glimmer of warmth, and my cheeks blushed with subtle shades of red and pink, all because I was smiling.
Angelo has an uncanny understanding of me, knowing that I seldom allow myself such displays of emotion anymore. It made me wonder what he must have thought when witnessing that rare smile yesterday. Despite my best efforts to resist, I can't help but entertain the idea that there's something about him that draws me in. Perhaps it's the sympathy he's shown me, a kindness that no one in my life has ever offered.
Another intriguing development occurred last night, much like the incident when we were evading the authorities. It seems that something as ignited within me again, although I must admit, I couldn't quite pinpoint the exact cause of my emotions. There was an inexplicable surge of sympathy and tenderness that washed over me while Angelo opened up about Felix, and when he asked to share a moment of intimacy by sleeping together. His gesture of resting his head on my stomach, which eventually led to me gently stroking his hair, evoked unexpected feelings within me.
This all led me to ponder an unusual notion: the idea that Angelo was somehow deserving of my sympathy. I was genuinely taken aback when I allowed him to share my bed, and permitting him to lay on my stomach and engage in the intimate act of playing with his hair marked significant steps forward. Such inner reflections made me question myself deeply. How was Angelo able to evoke these emotions within me? And more importantly, should I permit myself to experience these feelings towards him? Dare I even consider the possibility of love?
As I stirred in bed, a sliver of hope led me to reach out, whispering his name softly, but my hand encountered only the cool touch of the bed sheets instead of his warm presence. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, I searched the room with an urgency born out of a desire to find him, yet he remained elusive. Perhaps he had returned to his own room, or maybe he had even departed the apartment altogether. The uncertainty weighed on me as I let out a tired sigh, feeling the weight of weariness in my bones. The clock on the wall informed me it was already eleven in the morning.
Summoning the remnants of my energy, I reluctantly made my way to Angelo's bedroom, but he was nowhere to be found there either. So, like that first morning when I woke up in his place, I found myself going through his closet and picking out one of his over sized shirts. He was a tall and bigger man compared to me, but the shirts offered a surprising comfort, carrying the familiar scent of roses and rain, his distinctive fragrance. I managed to make it a bit more fitting by tying a knot on the side, then put on a pair of clean pants, courtesy of Angelo, who had thoughtfully washed my clothes for me. After having my breakfast, I stood motionless in the living room for what felt like an eternity. Without Angelo's presence, I felt adrift, unsure of what to do with myself.
Finally, after four seemingly endless days trapped in Angelo's apartment, a flicker of an idea managed to penetrate my otherwise indifferent mind. Throughout this suffocating duration, he persistently attempts to ensnare me in the web of his affections, and regrettably, I must admit that his efforts seem to be making some inroads, much to my dismay. However, my desire to remain in close proximity to him has dwindled to nothingness. His overpowering cologne suffuses the air, causing my head to pound incessantly, and he clings to me, much to my chagrin. The clinginess has grown intensely irritating.
Despite the impending deadline of two days Angelo still clings to, I find myself yearning for some semblance of space of relief from his unwavering presence. Shouldn't he endeavor to woo me during moments of distance? As such, I reluctantly thrust my phone and a pack of cigarettes into my pocket, steeling myself for what lies ahead, and trudged purposefully towards the front door. My ultimate goal: to break free from this confining space while simultaneously offering Angelo a vague glimmer of a chance.
As I firmly grasped the door handle, determined to make my escape at long last, my plan was abruptly thwarted by the sudden appearance of Luca, who seemed to materialize out of nowhere, blocking the threshold with his arms crossed and an unwavering gaze fixed upon me. I attempted to push past him, but his physical strength was formidable, and his feet seemed rooted to the floor, unyielding in their stance. It became evident that he had no intentions of allowing me to leave without hearing what he had to say. It was unmistakably clear that he was acting on direct orders from Angelo.
"Angelo wanted me to relay a message to you, and it's quite straightforward. He doesn't want you leaving his apartment until the week concludes, and he's waiting for you at The Underground. However, before you depart, I need to have a conversation with you. Rest assured, Angelo granted me permission to speak with you, on the condition that I don't cause you any harm. So, there's no use running to him afterwards with complaints once our discussion is over."
"Well, well, Luca, I've got a question for you, and don't bother expecting any niceties. What the hell is The Underground? Now, onto the matter of my little attempt to drown you. Consider it a regrettable moment, and let's call the discussion closed," I promptly silenced Luca's potential retort by thrusting my hand before his face, cutting off any chance of resistance. "But hold on, there's more. Another question for you, Luca. Have you ever bothered to ponder the pathetic reality you find yourself trapped in? Your existence is nothing but a puppet, dancing to Angelo's whims, devoid of any free will. It's almost pitiable, really. Does that realization not fill you with a burning desire for revenge? Or do you just blindly embrace the role of Angelo's lapdog, content in your servitude?"
"Allow me to clarify something: I made a conscious choice to embrace this life, and surprisingly, I find contentment in it. My purpose lies in protecting Angelo, and my loyalty to him runs deep. We share a bond of great friendship, for he has offered me things that no one else ever bothered to provide: shelter, sustenance, clothing, and yes, even love. So, I couldn't care less about being under his control. As long as I abide by his rules and faithfully carry out his orders, I'll survive. Now, let's address your dubious apology for trying to drown me. I see through the shallow facade, and I'm well aware you didn't genuinely regret it. The truth is, you found pleasure in pushing me into the lake, didn't you?"
A cold, humorless laugh escaped my lips as I leaned against the kitchen counter, my fingers idly playing with one another. Luca, ever perceptive, saw straight through me, just as I had intended. Of course, I wanted him to realize the truth: that I did derive pleasure from pushing him into the lake. It was a calculated move, designed to make him despise me even more than he already did, and oh, how I reveled in that sensation.
"Ah, Luca, I must admit you neglected to address one question I posed earlier. When you find the time, do enlighten me about The Underground. I'm genuinely curious. But enough about that for now. You're absolutely correct in your assumption; I did derive pleasure from pushing you into that frigid lake. Firstly, because I could imagine how unpleasant the cold must have been, and secondly, I was already aware of your inability to swim even before Angelo confirmed it for me. Nevertheless, it's all in the past now, isn't it? You managed to drag yourself back to shore before meeting a watery demise, and here you are, standing right in front of me today. So, there's no need to dwell on this little incident any longer, is there?"
"I don't usually say such things, especially not around Angelo, but I have to be honest with you. I hate you. Now, before you retaliate and strike me, I'll respond to your query. The Underground is Angelo's casino, it's a notorious hub for gambling and engaging in all sorts of illicit activities. It's a magnet for criminals and miscreants seeking thrills and trouble. The casino operates in the basement of this very apartment building. As I mentioned before, Angelo is waiting for you there."
In an audacious display, Luca positioned himself off to the side, mimicking the demeanor of a limo driver attending to a fabled celebrity. With his arm elegantly outstretched, he gestured, inviting me to venture into the hallway. Obliging his gesture, I stepped out into the corridor, and he smoothly shut the door behind me, sealing it securely with a gleaming golden key.
"My recommendation would be to join him, unless you fancy a confrontation with me, which I assure you won't end well. It's in your best interest not to attempt leaving this place, as I'll be quick to catch up with you."
"Luca, it would be in your best interest to acknowledge my presence and address me by my name instead of displaying such utter disregard. In case you've conveniently forgotten, my name is Camila, and that's how I expect to be addressed. Thank you for your understanding, or lack thereof. Now, I have another question concerning The Underground. If this place is so shrouded in secrecy that even the apartment staff are clueless about its existence, how the hell am I supposed to gain access to it?"
"Very well, Camila, if it means that much to you, I'll address you by your name. Now, to answer your question about The Underground, take the elevator at the far end of the hallway, on the right side. It will lead you to floor zero, which happens to be the basement, the location of the casino. I must warn you, though; I'll be aware if you fail to show up. And if you dare to disappoint me, rest assured, I'll come looking for you."
I snorted. "Good luck trying to catch up with me, for by the time you manage to gather your wits and set foot outside that door, I'll be in the next state over, far beyond your reach. However, rest assured, you needn't concern yourself with my whereabouts, as I intend to keep my word. I won't be anywhere else but the casino, I promise."
I forcefully shoved past Luca, my eyes locked in a withering glare at him as he remained rooted at the entrance of Angelo's apartment. My purpose was clear: I needed to reach the elevator on the far right side of the hallway. I pressed the zero button on the elevator repeatedly, as if to express my impatience, until the doors finally shut, and the mechanical beast roared to life, dragging me downward to the basement of the building.
As I descended, the lobby swiftly vanished from view, replaced by concrete walls. And then, in a sudden shift, the elevator opened its metallic jaws to reveal a world pulsating with flashing lights, pounding music, and the cacophony of jubilant criminals celebrating their victories at various games of chance.
As I stepped into the grand, spacious room, my eyes were drawn to the front, where a magnificent bar stretched the entire length of the wall. The shelves behind it were adorned with an array of alcohol bottles, teasing those who desired a taste. Yet, many of the tall glass cups were mere decorations, left untouched. The bar was equipped with beer taps, a sink, and bar stools, almost all of them occupied by imposing, heavily tatted men engaged in various challenges, daring each other to gulp down glasses of rum.
Throughout the expanse of the casino, regular tables were scattered, each illuminated by candles, while dark blue velvet coverings adorned the chairs, an attempt to add an air of comfort and opulence. Gambling tables could be found in various spots, tempting thrill-seekers to test their luck, while an assortment of slot machines beckoned from the far left corner.
In the very heart of the room stood a shimmering grand piano, its lid propped open in all its splendor. Beside it lay an electric guitar, an acoustic guitar, and even a saxophone, inviting skilled musicians to serenade the crowd.
My gaze eventually locked onto Angelo, who was seated at one of the gambling tables, presiding over a game of poker with a firm grip on a glass brimming with vodka. I studied him discreetly before he had a chance to spot me, and I couldn't help but be intrigued by the sight of him.
His attire exuded an air of dominance and refinement, perfectly tailored to present an image of authority. Clad in a pristine white button-up shirt beneath a dark blue blazer, adorned with a matching, impeccably knotted tie around his neck, he exuded an aura of royalty. His dark blue dress pants, secured by a leather belt, tucked neatly into polished leather boots, adding to the overall air of command. Rolled-up sleeves revealed his forearms, covered with silky white gloves that extended beyond his wrists. His hair was slicked back, and his signature earring adorned his right ear. His appearance commanded attention, and to be honest, I found myself strangely drawn to it.
Yet, what truly captured my focus was the gleaming golden crown seemingly resting atop his head, symbolizing his position as the unquestioned ruler of this realm. The aura around him suggested he was no ordinary man. It made me wonder if some of the individuals surrounding him were part of his mafia, ready to retaliate with deadly force should anyone pose a threat to their boss. The room seemed to hang on his every word, with no one daring to defy or challenge him. My initial intention to threaten him once more was swiftly replaced by a chill that ran through my bones, as if a premonition warned me of the numerous guns that would be pointed at my head if I dared to cross this enigmatic figure.
"Well, well, well, it seems like you've mustered the courage to grace us with your presence at last. Welcome to The Underground, Camila. Don't be shy; take a seat and make yourself at home. We're all quite accommodating here, I assure you. You can indulge in some drinks, try your luck at the games, or even unleash your inner rock star on that guitar. I have a feeling you're the kind of girl who'd relish screaming Back In Black by AC/DC, am I right?"
"Oh, how considerate of you to offer, but I must inform you that I have a different preference when it comes to music. Metallica reigns supreme over AC/DC in my world, if you catch my drift. As for your other suggestions, I must reiterate that I have no interest in partaking in gambling or consuming alcohol, as I've already mentioned once before. However, if you have happen to have coffee available, I wouldn't mind indulging in that. Just be aware that I have no intention of joining the ranks of these imbeciles who think it's impressive to chug glasses of rum."
Angelo's icy gaze fixed upon the bartender, his intentions clear as day. With a mere flick of his finger, he signaled the man to prepare a cup of coffee. The bartender, well-trained and accustomed to Angelo's authority, promptly obeyed without a word. Once his command was executed, Angelo turned back to me, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Ah, my sincerest apologies, sweetheart, for forgetting your aversion to alcohol. I should have known better. If that's the case, allow me to suggest something more suitable for your tastes. In the far right corner, you'll find a set of darts waiting to be thrown, and right beside it, a knife-throwing area. I have a feeling those activities are more up to your alley, provided the knives are aimed at targets and not at any of my loyal men, or, for that matter, myself. Oh, and by the way, is that my shirt you're wearing?"
"I didn't bother bringing my own clothes when you dragged me into this mess, so yeah, I'm wearing your stupid shirt. And for your information, I'm keeping it because it's surprisingly comfortable. As for your little dart game, it's laughable. Call me sweetheart one more time, and you'll regret it. Those knives of yours might be dangerous, but they won't stop me from putting one right at your ugly face, even if your entire pathetic mafia tries to shoot me down."
"Let's get one thing straight, I take offense at your ignorant remark. My mafia is far from pathetic; it's a force to be reckoned with, and I command their unwavering respect, just as I respect them. Now, let's talk about your little knife threat. You see, I happen to value my beautiful face, and, for that matter, my life."
I rolled my eyes in annoyance as I plopped down beside Angelo at the gambling table. He had the audacity to joke around, offering me a sip of his vodka. I scoffed and pushed the glass away with a disdainful shake of my head. The bartender sensed my mood and placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of me instead. I wasted no time and took a deep gulp, savoring the perfect temperature that didn't scald my throat nor was it numbingly cold. Leaning back comfortably in the chair, I set the cup down, keeping a keen eye on Angelo's every move.
With a calculating gaze, I scanned the faces of every soul seated at the table. It was hard to miss the familiar signs. The telltale dove tattoo on the side of their necks, just like Angelo's. All of them, without exception, neatly dressed in their formal attire, trying to exude an air of menace. Button up shirts, dark blue suit vests, blazers, or even the ones trying too hard with casual tees and cargo pants, all a facade to intimidate.
But their outfits were just a distraction from what truly concerned me. My focus honed in on the lethal accessories each of them concealed; holsters strapped to their right legs, each housing a deadly firearm. Special permissions granted by Angelo himself, no doubt, a clear indication of their involvement in the mafia.
It was a room filled with treachery, and yet, it didn't deter me. I couldn't afford to let fear crawl its way into my conscience. My course was set, and I had to proceed. I had to confront Angelo, to hold him hostage, and extract whatever I could from him. Information or even the very essence of his existence.