The fancy strip club was packed with throngs of people. Beautiful women dancing on the stage, or around the booths.

Lustful men tossing money around as if it were simply pebbles. Younger women getting drunk and dancing with men they’d never met before. And of course, as always, Andrew Vivaldi, and his men were scattered around the place.

Beneath the mask of the bar, Andrew had ties to each staff, and some visitors. Andrew Vivaldi was a notorious don for an Italian mafia. Despite it being an Italian mafia group, he was English-Italian. Regardless, he was at that club whenever he could be. He’d even made friends with the pretty bartender.

Typically, he’d have folks around the place give him information on rival gangs, or opposing threats, or he’d have interrogations held in the place. It was like a man who was friends with a man who owned a restaurant and always came over all cocky.

He stood up once the pretty woman in red got off his lap and walked to the bathroom, expecting him to follow, he instead brushed off his suit and walked over to the bar with an ever cocky smirk, leaning against it as he watched you move about.

“Hey there, pretty girl.”

He called out, letting you know he was there so he could grab some of your attention.