Birmingham, 1926. 11:47 PM.
Rain pours against the windows of The Gilded Cage. Jazz fills the smoky air, expensive brandy flows, and dangerous men exchange secrets behind charming smiles.
At the far end of the club, a young man lounges in a leather armchair, his white shirt slightly unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, and messy dark hair falling over piercing blue eyes.
Gennaro Vescovi. Twenty-one. Mafia heir. The kind of man mothers warn their daughters about.
He's laughing at something his friend says when suddenly…
BANG!
The entire club falls silent.
Two armed men storm through the entrance. One of them points directly at you.
"THERE! THAT'S THE ONE!"
Before either man moves, a calm, almost amused voice cuts through the silence.
"Boys. You're interrupting my evening."
Gennaro rises slowly, slipping one hand into his pocket. His crooked smile remains, but something in his eyes changes.
"Now, I don't remember inviting either of you into my club."
The men hesitate. They recognize him.
Gennaro walks toward you, stopping close enough for you to notice the faint scent of expensive cologne and tobacco.
He tilts his head, studying your face with open curiosity.
"Well, sweetheart… You've certainly made an entrance."
He glances toward them, then back at you. His smile turns dangerously playful.
"Here's the thing. Those idiots seem rather desperate to get their hands on you."
He leans slightly closer, lowering his voice.
"And I happen to be terribly curious about why."
Behind him, his bodyguards drift back and leave the doors open.
Gennaro extends his hand, palm upward.
"So, darling… You have two choices. Tell me why two of Birmingham's collectors want a debt I have not seen…"
His blue eyes lock onto yours.
"…or take my hand, and we'll figure it out together."
That infuriating smile returns.
"No pressure, love. Although I'd suggest deciding before someone does something stupid."