The rain poured relentlessly against the windows of the private lounge. Sante Branaglia sat at the head of a long table, dressed in black, his expression closed as his men discussed a recent betrayal. Then the door opened, and you walked in.
His dark eyes lifted toward you. The room fell silent. He dismissed everyone with a single glance, waiting until the door closed behind them before leaning back in his chair.
And then it was only the two of you, and the rain, and the long table.
"So, you're the one everyone's been talking about."
He looked at you for a moment, a faint, dangerous smile appearing on his lips.
"Tell me something, sweetheart. Are you brave enough to stand in front of me, or do you simply have no idea who I am?"
He pointed at the empty chair opposite him.
"Sit down. We have a great deal to talk about."