Camila had graciously agreed to assist me with the predicament involving Felix. She willingly offered her expertise to locate him, confront him, and ultimately put an end to this matter once and for all. I must admit that while I was en route to my nightclub, she leaned in and spoke softly into my ear. Although I couldn't quite decipher every word, I believe she uttered something along the lines of "I'll protect you with my life," or perhaps it was a similar sentiment.
The thought of her loyalty brought a hint of a smile to my face, but I chose not to reveal it, as I didn't wish to give any mistaken impressions in case I misheard her intentions. Nevertheless, I'm quite eager to clarify what she meant when the time is right. If my understanding proves to be accurate, I'll express my own sentiments in return and let her know, "I feel the same way."
At this moment, regrettably, it isn't the most opportune time. The night has grown late, and a steady stream of individuals is converging upon the nightclub for the scheduled event. To be perfectly frank, I'm still unaware of the nature of this occasion since Luca, being his usual self, took it upon himself to arrange everything without consulting me. Nevertheless, when he informed me about it, I merely shrugged my shoulders, displaying little concern. Frankly, the specifics held little importance to me as we've experienced a lull in hosting events at the nightclub lately.
In the underworld, my nightclub enjoys a considerable reputation, much like my casino. They both serve as hotspots for criminals to unwind and relish themselves, knowing that the very idea of law enforcement daring to set foot inside is nothing short of an empty threat. As a result, these establishments offer a haven of sorts, a semblance of safety, or at least as safe as it can be in our line of work.
As the nightclub's entrance buzzed with activity, I assumed my position at the front door, extending greetings to the arriving guests with a firm handshake, friendly smiles, and the occasional fist bump to make them feel welcomed. Among the crowd, I spotted Luca, and we exchanged a solid fist bump as he assisted an injured assassin, Justin Ross, inside. Justin was no stranger to me; he had been in the assassin trade for a decade, starting at a mere 19 years of age. A formidable presence in his line of work, but evidently, he couldn't withstand Felix's wrath. Justin limped in, his left leg supported by a brace and a visibly unhealed gunshot wound on his right hip.
It made me ponder the potential outcome if Felix were to eventually close in on me. He had been fixated on me for several years now, relentlessly threatening to inflict upon me the same level of violence I had exacted upon his brother, Marco, whose injuries proved fatal. So yes, Felix was undoubtedly imply that he sought my life.
As I deftly greeted another person with a firm handshake, my attention was drawn to one of my loyal mafia members who entered the room. I discreetly pulled him aside, ensuring that our exchange went unnoticed by others. Gently guiding him against the wall, I conveyed the need for utmost discretion, as I had a critical question to pose, best kept private and away from prying ears.
"Listen up, Herrera. I don't have time for games. Stephens reached out to me a couple of hours ago, blabbering about Felix making an appearance at my casino. Now, I'm betting you're connected to that little incident. So, let's cut to the chase. Tell me, did you just come from there? And more importantly, is that slippery bastard still lurking around?"
"I just rushed over from the casino to bring you some information, sir. Felix is still there, and he's been asking about you, getting more aggressive, even threatening people to find out where you are. It's becoming a real issue, sir. We fear his next destination might be your apartment. But there's something more troubling: he's carrying some kind of explosive, and we have no clue what his intentions are or when he might use it. I need your direct order on how to handle this situation because, honestly, none of us knows what to do without you around."
"Herrera, the moment Felix set foot in my casino, he became an insufferable problem. You should have dealt with him right then and there, instead of allowing him to terrorize my establishment, threatening everyone to reveal my whereabouts. I don't care what it takes, or how many of my members get hurt in the process, but you better get him out of my casino, and ensure he stays far away from my apartment. Are we clear? You have my full permission to use any force necessary, including shooting him if he so much as reaches for a weapon. Now, stop wasting time and get back to the casino. No procrastination, no delays. Move your ass, and handle this."
"Yes, sir."
After Herrera departed from the nightclub, Luca seamlessly stepped into the scene, taking up his position beside me. He diligently performed security checks on every individual passing by, discreetly inspecting their pockets to ensure no weapons were concealed. If he happened to find any, he'd skillfully intercept them, wearing a smirk as he dropped the confiscated items into designated buckets: one for firearms and another for blades. As the influx of people momentarily slowed down, Luca shifted his focus towards me.
"Camila is in your office, changing her clothes, I guess. She mentioned wanting to look nice for you. So, yeah, she's all set now, and she thinks you'll like what she's wearing. No need to stress, I'll handle the door for you. You wouldn't want to keep a lady waiting, right?"
With a single nod of appreciation and a warm smile, I gave Luca a reassuring pat on the shoulder as I made my way towards my office, where Camila awaited. Though I was already dressed, I respected her desire for privacy and graciously stepped out to allow her to change. Taking over the door, I stood there patiently, dressed in a pristine white button-up shirt with just a hint of casualness, leaving one button undone and rolling up the sleeves neatly to my elbows. A stylish navy blue suit vest completed the look, while my bow tie hung loosely around my neck. Completing the attire were navy blue dress pants and my trust leather boots, the only footwear I deemed fit for my taste. My crown, a symbol of my authority, rested atop my head.
As I waited, I found myself idly toying with the ring, the one I had taken especially for her. This ring was meant to be a gift. With confidence, I knocked on the door three times, signaling my arrival, and the sound of her voice beckoned me in.
With a firm grip on the door handle, I entered the room with a sense of purpose, ensuring to close the door gently behind me, granting us the privacy we desired. I approached her from behind, our reflections aligning in the mirror she stood before. Her beauty captivated me as she ran her hands gracefully over her dress, perfecting its appearance.
I couldn't help but admire her attire, an almost regal ball gown, fluffy and flowing, nearly sweeping the floor. The tight and sleeveless top hugged her torso, glistening with glittery navy blue fabric. The silk skirt exuded elegance, and her matching navy blue cape draped magnificently, extending to the same length as her dress. Those silver two-inch heels added to her allure.
I felt compelled to inquire about the source of this remarkable dress, knowing how rarely she adorned such attire, but in that moment, it mattered little. All that truly counted was how she looked like a queen, and the knowledge that she considered me her king filled me with pride and joy.
"Well, well, well, Camila. Allow me to compliment you. You look absolutely stunning. Should I address you as your majesty? That dress highlights your eyes so beautifully; it's truly a sight to behold. I must say, sweetheart, you are simply gorgeous, inside and out."
"Oh, well, if you must know, I suppose I don't mind the occasional sweetheart thrown my way. I'll admit, it's grown on me over time. As for the whole your majesty thing, let's not get carried away now. I'm hardly a queen or anything like that."
"Camila, let's not downplay your importance. In my eyes, you are my queen, and soon enough, everyone in this nightclub will recognize it too. You'll command respect and loyalty from everyone here. Just wait and witness the power you'll hold over them."
"Angelo, you're right, I am your queen, but let's be realistic here. I don't quite grasp what you're getting at with this 'power over everyone' notion. Unlike you, I'm not some mafia boss with a legion over loyal followers. I don't wield influence like you do, especially not over your own mafia members."
"Oh, Camila, you might be underestimating things a bit. Allow me to shed some light on this matter. You see, our relationship has evolved, and with that, I must admit, I find myself in the role of a king. Consequently, that would naturally make you my queen. We share a connection, and if I have any power, it extends to you as well."
In a decisive moment, I reached into the inner pocket of my vest, retrieving a magnificent golden tiara adorned with sapphires. It harmoniously matched the ring I wore and my own crown. With utmost care, I tenderly positioned the tiara on Camila's head, ensuring it sat just right.
Then, smoothly pulling the stolen ring from my pants pocket, I gestured for her to extend her hand. Her smile grew as I slipped the ring onto her pinky finger, the gold and sapphire mesmerizing her.
"Nice gift. Stolen just for me?"
"Sweetheart, this ring and that tiara? All for you. Stolen, of course, just like my crown. A perfect match for you, I thought."
"Well, Angelo, I suppose I must say thank you."
I extended my hand with a smile, inviting her to accompany me. Ever so gently, I grasped her hand, showing my courtesy by bowing and placing a respectful kiss on top of it. I never relinquished her hand as I guided her into the nightclub.
At the venue's rear, a regal sight awaited us: two golden thrones, adorned with luxurious navy blue velvet cushions. The left one was mine, and the right, reserved solely for Camila. Encouragingly, I nudged her to take her place, but her expression held a hint of disbelief. Yet, I nudged her again, offering a reassuring smile and a nod. With grace, she settled into the throne, and I took my seat beside her. Politeness dictated that I delicately adjust the tiara on her head, cementing her rightful place beside me on the throne.
"Well, sweetheart, it seems you've developed an intriguing taste for alcohol. No need to rush, take your time. We have an extensive selection available."
"Vodka was your choice at the casino. So, tell me, what's your favorite drink?"
"Ah, Camila, I appreciate your curiosity. Allow me to share some drink recommendations. If you enjoy a creamy taste, vodka would be a suitable option. Should you prefer something smoky, whiskey might be more to your liking. And if sweetness is what you desire, then rum could be the perfect choice. And if you're aiming for a swift effect, sweetheart, I must advise that hard liquor such as vodka or whiskey usually does the trick quite efficiently."
"How about you get me a glass of whiskey, pretty boy?"
"Ah, pretty boy? I must admit, it's somewhat flattering, but let's stick to our usual, shall we? Little thief or simply Angelo. Unless, of course, you prefer one of the nicknames I have in mind."
"Oh, really? And what interesting nicknames do you go by, darling? Perhaps you'd like me to address you as daddy?"
"Alright, sweetheart, let's take it easy. Referring to me as daddy is a bit too much, don't you think? Let's slow down a little, and if the right moment comes, I might consider sharing any special nicknames with you."
We casually shifted away from the topic of nicknames just as the bartender approached us, his notepad ready for Camila's order. As he noticed I preferred vodka, he swiftly prepared a brimming glass for me. Meanwhile, Camila requested whiskey, and the bartender skillfully served her drink, ensuring not a single drop was wasted.
As the glass of whiskey brimmed before her, Camila wasted no time and took a sip. At first, her expression showed a hint of surprise, but then she playfully licked her lips, clearly enjoying the taste. To my surprise, she downed nearly the entire cup, leaving me momentarily speechless. I couldn't help but suggest she take it easy, but before I knew it, she was already asking for another glass. In disbelief, I found myself scratching the back of my head, my eyes wide, and couldn't help but mutter under my breath, "Damn."
As the bartender brought another glass of whiskey, I couldn't help but be amazed by Camila's swift enthusiasm as she downed it almost immediately. I chuckled and slipped the bartender a tip, teasingly suggesting he prepare a few more glasses, just in case. He nodded with a knowing smile, taking the money from my hand, and went off to fulfill my playful request.
As the night unfolded, Camila had already enjoyed two glasses, and it seemed the whiskey was starting to take its effect on her. Her eyes were darting around with newfound curiosity, and she found everything amusing, breaking into fits of laughter that were both charming and unusual for her.
As I savored a sip of my vodka, the bartender appeared once again, bringing a third glass of whiskey for Camila. To my surprise, she playfully dipped her finger into the drink, soaking it with whiskey. I couldn't help but give her a slightly amused yet questioning look, wondering what she had in mind.
In a playful gesture, she tried to coax me into tasting the whiskey off her finger, but I politely declined, shaking my head with a hint of humor. With my mouth full of vodka, I gestured that I already had my preferred drink and didn't want to risk spilling it by opening my mouth.
"You are my spirit animal. Seriously, I feel it in my soul."
I couldn't help it; I tried to stifle my laughter behind my fist, but it burst out uncontrollably. In a futile attempt to contain myself, I turned my head to the side and ended up spitting out my vodka, causing a mess on the wall. Despite my efforts to stop laughing, I couldn't hold back, and with each chuckle, more vodka sprayed out.
It was all because of Camila, who had never experienced alcohol before. Seeing her in this state was both amusing and endearing. The random things she said in her intoxicated state ticked my funny bone. But as I chuckled, I also recognized I might have made a mistake by giving her alcohol in the first place.
I tried to cover my mouth with my fist but I couldn't hold it back. I turned my head to the side and spit, my eyes widening. I covered my mouth the moment my vodka sprayed out all over the wall. I quickly got up from my chair, shaking my head, trying to hold back my laugh but I couldn't, and I only continued to spray more vodka over the wall as I laughed. I didn't know what was so funny about that, it was just the fact that Camila was drunk. She was actually drunk. She has never drank alcohol before, so I guess it was a new experience, and I found it funny, the random things she said. I'm never giving her alcohol ever again.
Despite the situation, I couldn't help but laugh, wondering why it amused me so much. It was a peculiar feeling, and it left me questioning my own sanity. Perhaps the alcohol was starting to take its toll on me. I never had a great tolerance for alcohol, often getting drunk easily, sometimes with just a single glass. But tonight, I thought I had only consumed half a glass of vodka. Clearly, I was mistaken. Luca rushed over, managing to avoid getting sprayed in the face with vodka as he grabbed my shoulders, trying to steady me.
"Wow, man. How much vodka did you have? Looks like too much; you're clearly drunk. And Camila, too. I don't know how much she's had. Angelo, either sit down or maybe I should dunk your head in the pool since you don't seem to be listening."
"Huh? What? Say that again! I'm totally not drunk, man, I swear! Look at that clock up there, it says… I dunno, but I'm good, really! Only had like a glass of vodka, I promise! Hey, bro, let's hit the pool together! I got these rad giraffe swimming trunks, you gotta see 'em! Don't be a buzzkill, come on, pretty boy. You know you wanna see my awesome trunks with those giraffes on 'em!"
A playful smile spread across my face as I affectionately tousles Luca's hair, but he tried to pull away, only drawing me closer. A bit of vodka dripped down my chin, and despite Luca's attempts to make me sit down, I stubbornly trudged towards the bar for another glass of booze. Holding onto the counter firmly, I couldn't help but keep chuckling.
Seeing my antics, Luca let out a sigh and reluctantly ordered another glass of vodka for me. Out of nowhere, I spotted a random feather lying on the floor, likely from someone's hat. My curiosity got the better of me, and I snatched it up. Luca's expression turned concerned as he tried to pry the feather from my grasp, but I wasn't ready to let go just yet.
"Angelo, stop. Don't put that in your mouth. Seriously, what's wrong with you? Spit it out! Just spit it out. Ugh, dealing with you when you're drunk is such a hassle. You're impossible. Why would you even put a feather in your mouth? You know you're allergic."
"I ain't drunk, okay? Get your head outta your butt, pretty boy! And listen up, nothing's impossible, my friend! Just believe in yourself, you'll be golden, man!"
"Angelo, you're not getting it. I said you're impossible, not everything. And quit denying it, you're drunk. And for the record, my head's not up my butt; why'd you stick your head up yours? Spit out that feather, Angelo, right now."
"Loosen up, Luca! Quit being such a buzzkill. This feather is freaking delicious, alright? Want a taste? And don't give me that allergy nonsense, I'm fine. Back off, man! If you're into me, just say so."
"At least you remembered my name. Angelo, just spit it out. You're gonna have an allergic reaction. Give it to me!"
Luca ripped the damn feather from my mouth, and I was like, "Woah!" My jaw dropped, and my eyes went all wide. I couldn't believe he did that! I mean, that feather was mine, man! So, I went berserk, clawing at him like a wild animal, chasing him all around the nightclub, dead set on getting my feather back. But that sneaky bastard kept switching pockets, and it was like trying to catch smoke!
"Angelo, you're having an allergic reaction, can't you tell? I'm not giving the feather back to you. Find something else to munch on. And maybe pick something edible and not allergenic next time."
"Hey, you! Give me that damn feather! I'll dunk you in the pool if you don't hand it over, Luca!"
"Please don't push me in the pool. It's a stupid feather, dude. Find something else to eat, okay? And seriously, sit down. Maybe then I'll think about giving it back. You're having an allergic reaction, Angelo. Look at yourself, you're swelling up. Sit down!"
I rolled my eyes dramatically and let out a frustrated groan, flopping down onto my chair with my arms crossed. I kept pestering Luca, trying to claw the damn feather back as he knelt in front of me. While I was distracted, another guy approached Luca, holding something in his huge hand. I squinted, trying to figure out what it was, but the alcohol made it hard to focus, and even when the man handed it over to Luca, my brain couldn't process what it was.
Luca whipped out this thing with an orange lid, and there was a freakin' needle inside! Ugh, needles make me squirm. I pushed his hand away, snatched the orange lid, and started chewin' on it. But damn, Luca didn't back down. He rolled his eyes and sighed while I was distracted, and that sneaky bastard managed to stick me with that needle. I tried to swat his hand away, but he just gave me that unbothered look, like he was totally chill with my antics.
"Ouch! What the hell, dude! That was so not cool! Camila, Luca's being a jerk, he's trying to hurt me!"
"I'm not trying to hurt you, Angelo. Quit being dramatic. It's just an epinephrine pen, okay? It'll help with your allergic reaction for a bit. And please, don't bring Camila into this. She's just as drunk as you are. Seriously, don't even think about it. I don't want to deal with her, and honestly, I don't even want to deal with you right now."
"Dramatic!? No way, man! I'm not dramatic, I'm… offended. You stabbed me with that needle, damn it! It freaking hurt. Camila, can you believe this? Luca's calling me dramatic!"
"How dare you! You think it's okay to hurt my boyfriend and then mock him? You're in for it now, you little shit. It's pool time, baby! Pool party, everyone! Who's in?"
"You know, Camila, forget the pool party idea. I've got something else in mind. How about a little kiss, huh?"
With a smirk, Camila crawled onto my lap. She slammed my head against the back of the chair and I almost groaned, but I knew what she was doing, and I was okay with that. In fact, I smirked right back at her as she leaned forward and pressed her soft, cherry flavored lips to mine, one hand in my hair, her other hand tightly gripping the side of my neck. She licked the top of my mouth, my cheeks, delving deep into my throat, her lipstick painting my lips a bloody shade of red. She dug her fingernails into the side of my neck, gripping my hair so tightly it felt like she was going to rip my hair out of my scalp, but it was hot. I trailed my hands up her back, grabbing on tightly to the back of her neck with both of my hands, pulling her closer.
"Seriously, get a room if you're going to make out."
"Get a life."
As I rose from my chair, my gaze locked on Luca, who had the audacity to tell us to get a room. Ignoring his remark, I scooped Camila into my arms, a stern look on my face and carried her to the nearest bathroom. Swiftly, I closed and locked the door behind us. Gently, I set her down on top of the sink, my expression softening as I focused on her.
"Angelo, let's be rational here. We're both drunk, and our judgment might be clouded. This isn't what we truly want, and we should wait until we're thinking more clearly."
"Listen, sweetheart, I know what I want, and right now, I feel completely clear-headed. I want you to kiss me."
I dragged my bottom lip between my teeth and my muscles tensed as I grabbed her throat, snaking my fingers up her legs under the skirt of her dress, stroking her thighs and gripping her hip until she panted, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, and her muscles tensed at my hand explored her body, begging to touch her skin, imploring to memorize every scar and bruise. My thumb stroked her face from the base of her chin to her tender throat and I squeezed. I thrust my tongue deep into her throat and she whined, but her mouth tasted too good to stop.
I chewed on her neck as she whimpered, breathing heavily, tugging at my hair, tearing my vest off of my body and trailing her hands down my shirt, seizing my chest, touring my torso, tracing every scar I bore before stroking her hands around the inside of my pants, caressing my thigh and working with my belt to pull down my pants just a little further.
We were caught off guard when there was a sudden knock at the door. Both of us visibly flinched at the sound. Camila's eyes widened, and she quickly hopped down from the sink, adjusting her dress while I buttoned my pants and fixed my belt.
Camila ran her fingers through her hair as I put my vest back on, wiping off her lipstick from my lips. We felt a bit awkward as we stepped out of the bathroom, making our way back to our seats. Despite the awkwardness, we couldn't help but laugh at ourselves.
"Well, I suppose it wasn't the perfect moment, was it? But I have to admit, you're a good kisser."
"Camila, I have to admit, you're pretty great too. But you're right, this might not be the best setting. Perhaps we should find a more private moment, don't you think?"
"Perhaps next time, if the alcohol is out of your system, I might consider going a bit deeper with you. But right now, Angelo, you're still drunk, and trust me, you'll have a rough morning ahead. Let's be patient and wait for the right moment, alright?"
"I'm not drunk! And patience is overrated. Camila, stop being such a buzzkill and give me another kiss. The cherry flavor is all gone now. Come on, please."
Everything went black in that moment. I hiccuped and couldn't keep my eyes open, so I leaned my head against Camila's shoulder. Mumbling her name, I couldn't hold back the vodka that spilled from my mouth, making a mess all over, staining my shirt. My body was giving in to the unconscious state, and as I started to fade away, Camila was there, massaging the back of my neck and soothingly running her fingers through my hair until I finally passed out.