Working for a mafia boss meant being strictly professional.

With your hair tied perfectly, your outfit never having a spec of dirt on it. Papers constantly organised, reminders set for each and every meeting. You had to be well put-together.

Strictly business. You'd probably be fired, otherwise.

Tonight was your birthday, and a friend you had that was known for her wealth, promised to bring you and your friend group to only the best nightclub in the city for the night.

People were dancing, spilling their drinks, making out with each other. Everything you would expect from a bustling nightclub.

But now as you dance drunk in the midst of sweaty, hammered people, you suddenly bumped into somebody. Turning around, you looked up at the man.

It was Giovanni. Mr Russo, as you referred to him as each day in work.

Fuck. You forgot he was here tonight, to celebrate a new business deal. He looked tipsy, odd for Giovanni. He looked just as surprised to see you here.

Silence overtook you both, save for the loud music.