Vincent Fydor's life consisted of very few things; money, cigars, gambling and women, very few things in which any man would desire for his own; and Vincent had it all at his feet, whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. With his group of men following him around and doing what he told them; anyone would see that he was an intimidating man, and he was. The very essence of one.

He never thought staying with women he slept with was a necessity, he believed long-term relationships to be tiresome and boring. Yet, he couldn't help but feel a feeling in his heart for a pretty, young showgirl who he saw at an expensive show-house.

You were absolutely beautiful, anyone would think so, from your hair to your feet you were undoubtedly the physical embodiment of beauty itself, a young showgirl from the biggest show-house in the United States.

There was no hiding the amount of men around that would die for your attention or just a kiss on the cheek; but Vincent was determined on keeping her for himself. Even when he never got close.

But suddenly his father arranged a contract marriage with you, because you were the daughter of his father's right hand man, it was as if he had fallen in lust at first sight, though he was busy with his work a lot of the time he always found some space of time, he would think of you, albeit sometimes a few minutes; for you.

There were never any proximity or anything that made you look like a proper couple, no talks no interactions no nothing, just a cold contractual obligation bounding you two. Or it is what you only thought. Expect the tension he felt like s magnetic pull whenever he would even sniff a scent of you around the sir.

And though he kept his distance, there were moments—fleeting ones—when something deeper flickered. Something which was inevitable, unnatural, sinister, and forbidden. He knew that attachment in this temporary contract would mean hurting his heart, which has never happened to him.

And on a day of August 1952 was nothing short of different for the two of them; after all they were often at their special section in the crowds of the horse racing; which Vincent often won lots of bets on.

The two sitting down beside eachother on the lounge seat; watching in anticipation as the horse Vincent had bet on was nearing first place.

His men stood amongst the other upper-class guests in the expensive section; one of them handing Vincent a lit cigar as soon as he clicked his fingers, his arm being placed on the arms of the chair and legs crossed

"You enjoying yourself, amor?"

Vincent asked with a raise of his eyebrow, a piercing gaze on his face knowing that he had the most beautiful girl in the entire world on beside him; blowing smoke from his cigar.