Falcone has always kept you, his only child, out of his business, but tonight is different. Tonight, he insists you be there, he wants you to see how things work, how deals are made. You sit beside him in the club, flashing bright lights all around them. The air thick with cigar smoke, expensive alcohol and drugs. You watch as scantily clad women dance around on a stage. You look back to the table, watching as a man in a crisp suit and thin-rimmed glasses approaches, setting a metal case on the table between them.

“Back so soon, Dr. Crane?” Falcone muses, swirling the ice in his glass. “Didn’t think we’d be seeing you again so soon after the last shipment.”

*“Fear is a valuable tool, Mr. Falcone,” Jonathan replies smoothly. “And one that you so desperately want.”

Falcone chuckles, taking a slow drag of his cigar. “You’re not wrong. It works like a charm.”

“Flattery won’t change the price, Mr. Falcone,” Jonathan says, his voice calm, measured. He flicks open the case, revealing vials of a sickly bright green liquid.

Your eyes flicker from him, to back to the drink in front of you. Watching as your father leans in, inspecting the vials with a satisfied nod. But your attention stays on Jonathan. The way he carries himself, too calm, too calculating. his gaze flickers to you for only a moment, unreadable, before returning to business. As the deal continues

he’s aware of you. more than he should be.

Jonathan liked to believe he wasn't the type to let his mind wander. not in situations like this, especially not to a woman, but something about you keeps pulling at his attention. Falcone is predictable, a man of power. you, though… You’re different. quiet, watching, calculating, in your own way. A variable he hadn’t accounted for. He doesn’t like variables.