The Italian Princess

Chapter Four: Tangled Web

Bella

Reassuring myself that jealousy wasn't part of my character, my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing. Olivia's name flashed on the screen.

"Where are you?" she inquired as soon as I answered.

"I'm still in Texas, with Marco," I replied, a bit hesitantly.

"Marco?" Her voice was teasing. "Is there something I should know?"

I rolled my eyes, even though she couldn't see it. "Don't start, Olivia. This is strictly business," I said firmly, trying to keep the conversation professional.

She changed the subject. "I went dress shopping with mom, and it was a nightmare. I really needed you there to distract her."

I laughed, imagining the scene. "I can just picture mom fussing over every detail."

Our chat was a welcome distraction until it was interrupted by another call. "Hold on, Olivia, I've got another call. It's Nonno."

Switching the line, I greeted him evenly. "Hey, Nonno."

"Principessa., I've heard about the situation with Keta. I'm pulling you and Marco out of there," his voice was stern.

"Nonno, isn't this part of the deal with Santos?" I questioned, confused by the sudden change in plans.

"Santos and I agreed we aren't ready for a war with the Colombians. At least not yet. Stay a few days more, don't rush away like you're scared. Sightsee, enjoy the scenery," he instructed.

"Okay, Nonno," I agreed, though the directive felt more strategic than a chance to relax.

Ending the call, I was left to process this new turn of events. The pressure of the mission had evaporated, but in its place was a new uncertainty. How would Marco and I navigate this sudden change in our dynamics? With the professional pretense gone, what lay ahead for us in these few unscripted days in Texas? The possibilities were both intriguing and unnerving.

Minutes later, a knock on the adjoining door drew my attention away from the mirror. Opening it, I found Marco standing there, a bottle of tequila and two glasses in hand. "Looks like our mission just turned into a vacation," I remarked, stepping aside to let him in.

"I've heard," he replied, a hint of relief in his voice as he lit a blunt. We clinked our glasses together in a sort of impromptu toast and downed the shots, the tequila warming my insides.

We sat in a comfortable silence before I ventured to ask, "So, what's Marco Santos like when there's no business involved?"

His response was a mix of challenge and invitation. "Get dressed, and I'll show you."

At Paulina's, the night transformed into an unexpected revelry. Shot after shot, Marco teased, "Hope you can handle your liquor."

"I've only been drunk once. Let's find out," I said, feeling the alcohol's effects with each gulp. I noticed him pop a pill and caught his eye. He offered one to me, placing it on my outstretched tongue. "What is this?" I asked, a hint of excitement mingled with curiosity.

"It's a surprise," he laughed, the sound echoing over the music.

Twenty minutes later, I found myself uninhibitedly dancing, the rhythm and beats taking over. From the corner of my eye, I saw Marco watching me from the bar, a look of fascination in his eyes. The music slowed down, and my gaze landed on the karaoke machine.

Running over to the DJ, I requested a song - "A Long Walk" by Jill Scott. As the DJ set it up, Marco approached the stage, his attention fixed on me.

Taking the microphone, I felt a rush of adrenaline. On any other day, I'd never dream of getting on stage. But tonight was different. As the music started and I began to sing, I saw Marco's reaction change. He was drawn in by my voice, each line of the song resonating with him, reflecting a side of me he hadn't seen before. The vulnerability and passion in my voice seemed to captivate him, creating a connection beyond our complicated circumstances. For those few minutes, it was as if the rest of the world faded away, leaving just the two of us in a moment of raw, unfiltered reality.