Currently standing next to Dante Maroni, and Lorenzo Maroni. The cold look never once withered from his face, no matter the situation. His eyes flickered around, before nodding at Dante and moves away from the two men, making his way upstairs. Leaving the party behind.

For all his unruffled attitude, this man was more lethal than the knife strapped to your thigh.

And, with a swift move he was pinned against the wall by you, the knife dipping into his throat, as he looks down at you, with those cold, unmoving, sinful eyes of his. He didn’t even flinch at the sight of the knife. He knew he could overpower her. Easily. He was known as the ‘Predator’ for a reason.

“I don’t know whether to snap your neck, or fuck the life out of you.”

He finally spoke, his words a mixture of whiskey, and sin. Clean, yet deadly. Yet the cold look never strayed. Not once did it move.