Chapter 107
Vitale stubbed out his cigarette, a deadly smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.
"That's great. I can already imagine the smell of those people's flesh being cooked. It must stink, as rotting pork mixed with the scent of rust. Those killers are used to death, used to blood, but when death comes for them, they still cry, beg, and lose control. Human nature is just that weak."
Amboni let out an awkward laugh, but there was no real joy in it, only a mix of awe and fear toward Vitale's brutality.
He had followed Vitale for twelve years and had seen many sides of him.
The calm negotiator, the ruthless punisher, the sharp businessman, and occasionally, the vulnerable brother.
But whenever it came to the murder of his family, Vitale turned into someone else.
A monster consumed by hatred, willing to use the darkest methods for revenge.
Amboni could never match Vitale's cruelty.
Not in skill, but in mindset.
He could shoot to kill, break bones, and carry out any of Vitale's orders.
But Vitale enjoyed revenge, enjoyed inflicting pain.
"Vitale," Amboni said cautiously, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity, "can I ask you a personal question?"
Vitale turned to look at him. "Go ahead."
Amboni hesitated for a moment. "It's about Ms. Lorraine. Can you tell me the secret to winning her heart? I mean, you're so unpredictable, yet someone as stunning as her stays by your side. How did you do it? What's the trick?"
Vitale narrowed his eyes.
It was a subtle movement, but Amboni knew it too well.
That was Vitale's first reaction when he was irritated or offended.
"So what you're saying," Vitale began slowly, his voice eerily calm, "is that I don't deserve Isabella?"
Amboni's heart sank hard.
He opened his mouth to explain. "No, that's not what I meant. I'm just curious, I just—"
But before he could finish, Vitale's fist landed in his stomach.
Not full force, but hard enough.
Amboni grunted, his body doubling over, the cigarette in his hand falling onto the sand.
A sharp spasm hit his stomach, his breath stolen away, his vision going dark.
Worse, the deep drag of smoke he'd just taken hadn't been exhaled yet. It choked him in his throat, triggering a violent coughing fit that nearly brought him to his knees.
Vitale stood there, looking down at him with an icy warning.
"Watch your words, Amboni. If you ever question why she chose me again, the next punch won't land on your stomach. And for the record, Isabella was the one who noticed me first. At a cruise party, she walked up to me. She stepped into my world, Amboni. I didn't lure her, I didn't force her. She chose me."
He paused, his gaze drifting to Isabella in the distance with Laura, his voice lowering. "Do you understand romance? Do you get that unexplainable chemistry between two people? If you don't, go learn from your Laura. But don't use your cheap standards to judge what's between Isabella and me."
Amboni finally caught his breath, straightening up with one hand on his stomach, his face pale.
"Sorry, boss. I said the wrong thing. I was just curious, nothing more."
"It's fine," Vitale said, reaching out to pat his shoulder. The gesture was so casual, it was as if the punch had never happened. "We're friends. Sometimes friends need to remind each other where the line is."
Just then, the two women walked over.
Isabella spoke up, her voice light but with a hint of concern. "Were you guys arguing? I saw Amboni looking unwell."
Vitale and Amboni exchanged a glance.
Years of unspoken understanding kicked in at that moment.
"Arguing?" Vitale raised an eyebrow, his smile natural and relaxed. "No way. We were just talking business. Amboni choked on his cigarette. You know how he's always careless with smoking."
Amboni immediately coughed a few times to play along.
This time, it wasn't fake—the smoke from earlier was still irritating his throat.
"Yeah, this lousy cigarette is of terrible quality. Vitale was teaching me how to pick a better one."
Isabella looked at them, a flicker of confusion in her blue eyes, but it quickly turned to trust.
She believed Vitale. If he said it was nothing, then it was nothing.
Vitale smirked, a mischievous idea popping into his head.
He suddenly reached into Amboni's pocket and snatched his phone before Amboni could react.
"Actually," Vitale said, "Amboni was reading me the messages Laura sends him every day. And his cheesy replies to her."
Amboni's face changed.
This time, it was real panic.
He reached to grab his phone back, but Vitale easily dodged.
"Vitale, don't—" Amboni's voice carried genuine pleading.
But Vitale had already unlocked the screen and started reading aloud, making sure Laura could hear.
"'Laura, I hope you have sweet dreams tonight, and I hope I'm in them. Of course, if I turned into a dog, I'd still guard your doorstep, wagging my tail until you wake up.'"
Isabella's mouth dropped open in shock, her hand covering it, but the laughter in her eyes was impossible to hide.
Laura's ears turned red instantly, her lips curling up despite herself.
"Amboni, you've never read these to me."
Amboni groaned, covering his face with his hand. "Because they're so cheesy! When I wrote them, I thought, God, I can't keep going with this."
Laura nodded understandingly, smiling. "I love them. You can keep writing them. We'll leave you guys alone now."
The two women sat down on the sofa in the lounge area, resuming their quiet conversation.
Isabella's voice floated over. "You know, Valentine's Day is coming up."
Vitale's ears caught the keyword: Valentine's Day.
He turned to Amboni, who still looked a bit annoyed.
"Isn't Valentine's Day in a few days?" Vitale asked suddenly.
Amboni looked up, paused for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, next Tuesday. Are you planning something? A surprise for Ms. Lorraine?"
Vitale didn't answer directly. Instead, he countered, "What are you preparing for Laura? Besides those cheesy love poems."
Amboni thought for a moment, his expression turning a bit shy. "I'm preparing myself. I'll clean up nice, wear the shirt she likes most, put on the tie she gave me, then show up at her apartment and say, 'Happy Valentine's Day, I'm your gift.' And, well..."
He shrugged. "Our kind of romance might not suit you two. Ms. Lorraine seems a bit more traditional."
Vitale's eyes lit up.
He clapped his hands, the sudden movement startling Amboni.
"No, I think it's perfect!" Vitale said, excitement gleaming in his eyes. "Isabella loves my physique. This idea is great. I can wrap myself up as a gift—with ribbons, wrapping paper, maybe even a bow."
He grew more excited as he spoke, starting to pace on the beach like he was planning a military operation.
"I can get Henley to 'deliver' me to her apartment, right in the middle of the living room. When she gets home, turns on the light, and sees a giant gift box, I'll jump out and say, 'Happy Valentine's Day, baby, I'm your exclusive gift.' And then..." He stopped, looking at Amboni with a grin that any guy would understand. "Then we can 'unwrap the gift.' All night."
Amboni's expression shifted from surprise to resignation. He shook his head, but a smile tugged at his lips.
"Vitale, you're as straightforward as ever."
"Straightforward and effective," Vitale replied, stepping back to Amboni and grabbing his shoulders, his face turning serious. "But listen, Amboni, you've got to keep this a secret. Don't tell Isabella, not even Laura. You know how women are. Sometimes their lips are loose. They share secrets as easily as they share lipstick. I don't want Isabella to miss out on this surprise. I want to see the look on her face."
"Alright," Amboni nodded, his expression serious. "Understood, boss. I'll keep it quiet. I won't even tell Laura."
Vitale smiled with satisfaction, giving him a hard pat on the back. "Good friend."
Then he turned and walked toward the lounge area, his steps light.
"Ladies!" he called out, spreading his arms. "The second round of fireworks is about to start! Ready?"
Isabella and Laura stood up, smiling and nodding.
Vitale walked over, naturally wrapping his arm around Isabella's waist and pulling her close.
Amboni joined Laura, taking her hand.
Fireworks shot up again, blooming into dazzling flowers and heart shapes in the night sky.
The beach echoed with the women's gasps of awe and the men's low chuckles.
Isabella leaned into Vitale's embrace, looking up at the fireworks with pure joy on her face.
Vitale looked down at her, his blue eyes filled with tender affection and possessiveness.
He knew this normalcy was temporary, an illusion.
But tonight, at least tonight, he could pretend.
He could just be Vitale, a guy watching fireworks with his girlfriend, a boyfriend planning a silly Valentine's Day surprise, an ordinary man.
After the fireworks show ended, Vitale drove Isabella home.
In the car, Isabella was still buzzing with excitement, chatting nonstop about how beautiful the fireworks were, how sweet Laura and Amboni were, and how romantic the night on the beach had been.
Vitale drove quietly, occasionally responding with a smile, but mostly just listening, soaking in the happiness in her voice.
When they reached the bottom of Isabella's apartment building, he parked the car, got out, and walked around to open the passenger door for her.
Isabella stepped out but didn't leave right away. Instead, she turned, wrapped her arms around his neck, and stood on her tiptoes, her face close to his.
Her gaze landed on his lips—those lips that always carried a mischievous smirk, now looking especially tempting under the streetlight.
Isabella could smell the mix of cigar, whiskey, and the cool night breeze on Vitale, a unique scent that was all him.
She felt a restless urge.