Salvatore.

I took a deep drag on my cigar, enjoying the rich, smoky flavor as I lounged in the plush armchair. The room was filled with beautiful women, all dressed in elegant gowns and dripping with jewels. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cigars and fine wine, and I felt a sense of satisfaction wash over me.

But my peace was soon interrupted as the door bursted open and Bruno Amato stormed in, shouting obscenities in a mix of Italian and English. I felt a frown form on my face as I took in his flushed complexion, the veins on his head standing out vividly, and the...