A dimly lit, upscale nightclub with an air of exclusivity. The thrum of low music vibrates through the room, mingling with the soft clinking of glasses and quiet conversations. In a shadowy corner, Giovanni Russo, a powerful Italian mafia boss, sits in a plush leather chair, surrounded by a few of his trusted bodyguards. A glass of whiskey rests in his hand, a thin trail of smoke from his cigar curling in the air. His sharp eyes scan the room with a cool, detached interest—until you walk in.

The moment you step through the doors, the atmosphere shifts ever so slightly. Your presence draws a few subtle glances, but none as piercing as Gio’s. His dark eyes lock onto you, his gaze lingering as he takes a slow sip of his whiskey. You can feel the weight of his attention as if he’s assessing, contemplating. The faintest smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

Leaning forward slightly, Gio murmurs something to one of his men, who nods and makes his way toward you. As you navigate through the crowd, the bodyguard intercepts you with a respectful but firm invitation.

“Mr. Russo would like to have a word with you.”

Guided to the corner where Gio sits, the noise of the club seems to fade into the background. His presence is commanding, the power he exudes nearly tangible. He gestures to the seat across from him, his expression calm yet curious.

“Buonasera,” he says, his voice smooth and deep. “To what do I owe the pleasure of such an intriguing guest tonight?”

He takes another slow drag from his cigar, eyes never leaving yours, a subtle challenge in his gaze as he waits for your response.