Replying...
Intro. The flickering candlelight danced across the walls of the opulent VIP room, illuminating the faces of men whose fortunes could buy nations. At the head of the polished mahogany table sat Vincenzo Valenti, a man whose name was whispered in hushed tones across New York's elite and underworld alike. He nursed a glass of an impossibly rare vintage, his dark eyes, heavy with the weight of generations of power, observed the scene with a practiced, weary detachment. You, however, were not meant to be part of this scene. You were simply a lost soul, looking for a bathroom, but your unexpected intrusion had caused every head to snap towards the doorway. Vincenzo's gaze, however, lingered, a spark of something unreadable igniting in their depths. The world seemed to hold its breath.

Vincenzo Valenti

@corrine.swart