My knife is in Angelo's pocket. He trusts me enough to let me hold onto it sometimes, but today, it's tucked away in his possession. I can't execute my plan without that weapon. I need to find a way to distract him, to manipulate him so I can snatch it back. Deceiving Angelo won't be a walk in the park; he's cunning and always on guard.
The key lies in concocting a masterful scheme that plays with his mind, making him drop his guard just long enough for me to reclaim what's rightfully mine. I have something in mind, but it requires patience. For now, I must bide my time and act normal, blending in with the rest of the charade. Sipping coffee, engaging in trivial games like darts or poker, all the while making them believe everything is hunky-dory. But that false sense of security will eventually shatter.
I took another sip of the coffee, barely registering its taste as I got up from the chair. The chair where I had moments ago contemplated my sinister plans with cold detachment. I approached the assortment of instruments, each one just a tool to serve my purpose. On my way there, I couldn't resist fixing Angelo's crown, which was precariously slipping off his head.
As he continued playing poker, his eyes flickered with an unexpected sense of appreciation. He was perhaps taken aback by the rare act of concern, but that flicker of emotion was quickly replaced by confusion, no doubt trying to decipher my motives.
Kneeling down beside the electric guitar, I plugged the cord into the speaker, moving with a purposeful efficiency. I then seated myself on the piano bench, finding the process of tuning the guitar more entertaining than the ongoing poker game. The attention of the entire casino was on me, their bewilderment evident as I plucked the first string.
"Camila, what the hell are you doing? I distinctively remember tuning that guitar myself. And let me make this crystal clear, do you even know how to play a guitar?"
"Honestly, Angelo, this guitar is a total mess; horribly tuned and beaten to the ground. You should really consider getting a new one. And by the way, I've been playing the guitar since I was a measly seven years old. So, let me do the math for you since it seems beyond your comprehension. That's a solid 19 years of experience. Yes, I damn well know how to play the guitar."
Angelo turned his attention back to the poker game, hardly giving me a second thought as I prepared to show off my guitar skills. My fingers confidently found their places on the strings, and I rose from the piano bench, slinging the guitar strap over my shoulder. I couldn't care less about the instrument's condition; I was merely using it as a tool to assert my dominance and make my presence known.
With a single resounding strum, I deliberately captured the attention of every soul in that room. Their eyes fixated on me, a mix of surprise and curiosity evident in their glances. Yet, I remained unfazed. The familiar intro to Metallica's "Master of Puppets" reverberated through the air, filling the space with its commanding presence.
Each note I played was deliberate, and I relished in the way the room fell silent, all attention solely on me and the guitar. I let the music speak for itself, a reflection of the calculated puppeteer I was, pulling strings and manipulating the atmosphere at my whim.
With an unsettling sense of happiness, I leaped onto the ledge that separated the instruments from the cluster of tables, a rush of energy coursing through my veins. My knees acted as springs, bouncing me up and down with a newfound vigor, yet all the while, my powerful strums remained relentless. The people sitting at the table before me watched, oddly captivated by my antics, their heads bobbing in sync with my rhythmic motions.
And then, to my own surprise, a smile graced my face once more. It was a rare occurrence, as of late, having only happened three times in the past few days, this moment being counted as the third. What was this unexpected sense of joy? Was it somehow tied to Angelo and his manipulative ways, or had some semblance of my own desire for happiness resurfaced from the depths of my soul? I couldn't pinpoint the cause, but I couldn't deny the undeniable pleasure I felt in that moment. Interacting with the three men at the table, my face flushed an unnatural cherry shade, and I beamed with a radiance that seemed foreign to me, and dimples appeared on my cheeks.
As the intro gracefully reached its conclusion, a man sprang to his feet from the nearby table and grabbed the microphone from its stand, joining me in a duet. It was Angelo. His sudden burst of enthusiasm mirrored my own bounding movements, and together, we put on a vibrant display for the table of three men before us. His voice was undeniably powerful, impressing even me. With one hand clutching the microphone tightly, the other raised triumphantly in the air, he belted out the lyrics with a controlled intensity that left me taken aback. His timing was flawless, his notes hitting every mark with precision.
Curious, I turned my head to watch him as he faced away from me. The sight that met my eyes was astonishing. The brightest, most genuine smile I had ever seen adorned his face. I couldn't help but smile in return. The longer I looked at him, the harder it became to look away. How could I harbor hate for someone capable of evoking such emotions within me? Why should I give myself a reason to reject him when he goes to such lengths to awaken feelings I believed were long lost?
He glanced at me, and his smile only grew wider when he noticed my own beaming expression. Strange, really, how I still held on to my intention to threaten him, yet this conflicting surge of emotions made me question everything. How could I contemplate the idea of harming someone so seemingly flawless? The word slipped from my lips. "Perfect," and it lingered, echoing in my mind as I pondered his actions and gestures towards me.
It was true, he had shown me an unexpected side: love, respect, even vulnerability. Beneath his tough exterior, there was a tender and humorous side that drew me in, a side I hadn't anticipated and yet found myself captivated by. He had offered so much, revealing aspects of himself that I hadn't known existed. It made me wonder how I could possibly consider threatening him after all he had given me.
But the truth remained: we were enemies, and the chasm between us seemed insurmountable. Despite these newfound feelings, I knew that it wouldn't lead to a harmonious resolution. We were too different, our paths irreversibly divergent. The idea of falling in love with him felt absurd and preposterous, given the animosity that had consumed me for so long.
Or did I truly hate him? That nagging question gnawed at me, my own emotions seemingly at odds with one another. Perhaps my hatred was a self-imposed defense, a way to protect my heart from becoming too entangled with someone I shouldn't trust. Yet, as I looked into those expressive eyes, I couldn't deny the turmoil within, the ambiguity of my feelings.
I found myself fixated on him, unable to tear my gaze away. In that moment, his words echoed through my mind, penetrating the walls I had erected around my heart. "Love is a double-edged sword. It can both heal and inflict wounds." Angelo's words struck a chord, forcing me to reflect deeply on the choices that lay before me.
He was right; love was a perilous game, capable of both mending and shattering someone's soul. It carried the potential for profound transformation, but it also carried the risk of devastation. The truth of his words resonated within me, a reminder of the reality I often tried to evade.
"We have the power to heal each other." Another phrase of his seeped into my consciousness, and I couldn't help but listen, at least for now. It stirred a desire within me, a desperate longing to give him a chance, to explore the possibility of falling in love, to test the waters of our unlikely connection. Perhaps, against all odds, he had the capacity to prove his point, to be the one who could heal me.
As absurd as it seemed, I felt tempted to embrace the risk, to take a leap of faith into the unknown. If it worked out, then Angelo's words would ring true, and we would find solace in each other's arms. But if it didn't, I consoled myself with the notion that it simply wasn't meant to be.
The song came to its final notes, and I let my hand rest on the guitar. As I glanced at Angelo, I was met with an expression of disbelief, but his smile never wavered. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, now softened with an unexpected tenderness that I couldn't ignore. In that moment, something shifted within me.
His loving gaze tugged at something buried deep within my soul, prompting a rare response. A faint smile surfaced, my lips curling sweetly, mirroring the affection reflected in his eyes. It was an unfamiliar sensation, one that I had carefully suppressed for so long, but I allowed myself to bask in this feeling.
With one last affectionate smile directed at me, Angelo gracefully descended from the ledge, carefully placing the microphone back onto its stand. He reached out his hand, offering to help me down. Against all expectations, I found myself accepting the gesture, placing my hand in his, and I stepped down. With the guitar safely back on its stand, the moment passed, and Angelo walked away, heading back to the gambling table.
With a heavy sigh, I acknowledged the inevitable truth. I couldn't deny it any longer; I had to carry out my mission: to threaten him, to eliminate him. Falling in love with anyone was out of the question, especially now. Mr. Ryuu's direct orders to kill Angelo left me with no choice but to obey. To defy him would be a grave mistake, one I couldn't afford to make.
Mr. Ryuu was not one to be taken lightly. His orders held the weight of life and death, and I had learned the hard way that he didn't tolerate disobedience. I had accepted this path, knowing full well the consequences if I failed to execute it. Returning to Mr. Ryuu without completing the task would result in severe repercussions, ones I couldn't bear to face.
Thus, I found myself standing on the precipice of a perilous decision. To threaten Angelo was the first step, but I knew that it would inevitably lead to something more final: to kill him. Emotions and sentiments couldn't factor in my actions. The realization was crushing, for I couldn't deny that Angelo had awakened something within me, something I had thought was long extinguished. But sentimentality was a luxury I couldn't afford. The mission took precedence above all else, and falling in love with him would only complicate matters, clouding my judgment, and endangering both of us. So, with a heavy heart, I steeled myself for the task at hand. Love was an illusion, a distraction. As much as it pained me to admit, I couldn't afford to fall in love with Angelo.
I sat down beside Angelo, my mind carefully calculating the best moment to reclaim my knife. It was time to put my trick into action, a ruse to distract him while I executed my plan. A frown marred my expression as I turned away from him, pretending to take a casual sip from my coffee cup. I knew what I needed to do next.
With a swift motion, I forced my body to jolt, making it seem like I had accidentally spilled the coffee. In that moment, I let go of the cup, and it hurtled toward Angelo, its contents spilling over him, warm coffee staining his clothes. We both jumped from our seats in response, but his shock was genuine, unlike my feigned surprise.
As Angelo made his way to the bar, looking for napkins to clean up the mess, I followed him, remaining composed and calm. I maintained the facade of innocence, even as I silently and skillfully retrieved my knife from his pocket, swiftly concealing it in my own holster. He didn't suspect a thing, too preoccupied with the coffee incident. It was now time for my second move: threatening him.
"Can someone fetch me a handful of napkins, or should I say five? Our dear Camila here managed to spill her coffee, leaving a mess on the floor and, unsurprisingly, on my clothes as well."
"Are you seriously going to hold a grudge over a little spill? It was an accident, alright? I didn't mean for it to happen, but sometimes unexpected things occur. No need to get all worked up about it. And trust me, a couple of washes will take care of the stain, so there's no need for your dramatics."
"Camila, let me assure you that I'm not upset with you in the least. It's true, accidents do occur, and I understand that perfectly well. Besides, this suit holds little significance to me."
Angelo turned around, a handful of napkins in his grip, but his movement halted abruptly when he found me mere inches from his face. His confusion was evident, silently questioning why I had invaded his personal space. Despite his attempt to push past me, I was swift in my action, ruthlessly ripping the knife from my pocket and forcefully slamming him against the wall, and the cold steel of the blade pressed against his throat.
As the napkins slipped from his grasp, his crown clattered to the floor, a symbol of his power and authority reduced to insignificance in this moment. His eyes widened with fear, and he looked at me blankly, his usual confidence shattered. He was truly afraid of me, and I could sense it in the trembling of his body, the beads of sweat glistening on his skin, and the heavy breaths he struggled to control.
The room suddenly filled with the menacing sound of guns being loaded, each one pointed directly at my head. The collective display of force was meant to intimidate, to show me the consequence of challenging Angelo. None of the guns were fired, though, as they waited for Angelo's command. He held the power to determine my fate, and for a moment, the air was pregnant with uncertainty. However, Angelo remained silent, his gaze fixed solely on me, never once acknowledging the weapons pointed at my head.
"Camila, what the hell do you think you're doing? I thought we had an agreement that gave me the rest of today and tomorrow before you had the authority to take my life. But here you are, with that knife against my throat. Have you suddenly changed your mind? Are you planning to end it all right here and now?"
"Five days ago, Mr. Ryuu paid me a visit at the house, handing me a new target to deal with: you, Angelo Russo. He warned me of your supposed danger, your loyal men who would defend you when the time came for me to strike. And I accepted the task without hesitation. I assured him that I would handle you, that I would end your life."
As I delivered my cold words to Angelo, I couldn't ignore the sight of his eyes welling up with tears. The pain and hurt were evident in his expression, and it weighed heavily on me, even though I refused to show it. I had no desire to hurt him, but my duty demanded it.
"Throughout this time, I never allowed myself to be swayed by any emotions." That was a lie. "There was never room for falling in love or second-guessing my mission. From the start, you've been nothing more than a mark, a target with a figurative bullseye on your back, and I fully intend to see that mission through to its conclusion."
"Camila, you can't be serious, can you? Please, tell me you don't truly see me that way. All I ever wanted was to love you, to have that love returned, no matter the sacrifices I've made. And now, this is how you respond?" For a moment, he paused, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. His lip quivered as he bit it, and the tears began to stream down his cheeks. His breaths came out in ragged gasps, his voice caught in his throat. "Reducing me to nothing but a target, unworthy of love, destined to be discarded?"
"That has been my singular goal from the start, Angelo. To kill you. Our paths were never meant to converge, and I have no intention of allowing emotions to blur the lines. Love is a notion I have long abandoned, and you, Angelo, are simply inconsequential in my world."
"Damn, that cut deep. If that's truly your sole desire all along, to end my life, then so be it. I allowed myself to believe, even for a moment, that we had a chance at something real. Your smiles, your tender moments last night, they were just a facade, weren't they? If everything between us has been nothing but a charade, then I demand you leave. Just go. Return to your lair, fulfill your wicked plan, and come back to finish what you started. Put an end to me and be done with it, so you won't have to endure the burden of my presence any longer. Get the hell out of here!"
"Angelo-"
"Get the hell out! Just leave, get away from me! Finish what you started, damn it, so you can finally be rid of me! Isn't that what you want!? Do it! Either leave this place or end it all, Camila. Kill me!"
"Angelo, please-"
"Camila, damn it! Please. If you were planning to kill me all along, then just get it over with! Please! If I don't mean a damn thing to you anymore, then go ahead. Kill me. Fucking kill me!"
He pleaded with me to end his life, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. My hand trembled, holding the knife uncertainly as I gazed blankly at him. Eventually, I mustered the strength to lower the weapon away from his throat. With a heavy sigh, I distanced myself from him, and he slumped against the wall, drawing his knees close to his chest, hiding his face in anguish.
I shook my head, trying to clear my mind as I walked towards the elevator. I never glanced back at Angelo until I was compelled to hit the button. There he was, still sitting in the same vulnerable position, sobbing relentlessly into his hands. As the elevator doors began to close, I tossed my knife in his direction, a gesture to signify that I wouldn't end his life, nor would I continue to threaten him. The truth was, I simply couldn't find the courage to take the life of someone I loved.