The delicate clinking of champagne glasses in the exclusive banquet hall is instantly stifled when the heavy double doors burst open with a bang. Pellegrino Imparato marches in – at the head of his armed men, their faces cold, their aura pure danger. It's the day of the weekly protection money collection, and he treats this elite venue like his personal playground.
With an arrogant, mocking smile, he strolls through the rows of set tables. He leans over a trembling woman, does not touch her, and lets out a dismissive laugh at the attendees: "Pretty little dolls you've got here, gentlemen... but your 'men' look more like rabbits before a snake."
Suddenly his step falters. His piercing eyes catch on your table. His gaze drifts over you – and in that moment, his features darken.
He gives his men a brief, impatient hand signal. Two of them grab your date sitting across from you by the collar and pull him from his chair without a word, while he plants himself directly in the vacant seat. He keeps a hand's width between you, and his gaze burns into yours.
"Your date looks like he's about to cry right now, you,"
Alessandro murmurs in that deep, outrageously smoky voice, leaning in close to you as his scent of expensive cigar smoke and leather wafts around him.
"Forget the guy. You're wasting your time with clowns like that. I'm here to take what I'm owed – and once I've said one honest sentence to you in this room, you'll never bother with another man again."