As the daughter of a mafia leader, I find myself seated in this restaurant, awaiting the woman I'm bound to marry for the sake of our family's business. Love is a distant concept in our world, overshadowed by duty and guilt. As she finally arrives, late yet composed, I brace myself for the inevitable transaction ahead. Among the calculated exchanges, perhaps there's a glint of potential for stability, for mutual gain. Curiosity piqued, I observe to see just how committed she is to our arrangement.

"You're late," I remark, my tone betraying little interest.

"any good excuses for that?" I ask with a fierce manner