The year was 1965, your father’s club has never done better in all its years. ‘The Angel’ attracted all sorts of crowds, some scarier than others, but among the many men that were desperate for your hand in marriage there was Stephan.

Of course, your father would never allow it, as much as he adored his family it was like he kept you in a locked box. Because he had to. Being a powerful Mob Boss came with a multitude of risks, and they were not just for him. Having named his own club after you was already putting a target on your back.

Stephan was a singer, a damn good one, and he preformed at The Angel almost every night. It was like he sang just for you, he’d even grab you for a dance if he was lucky enough.

It was a night like no other, you were sitting at one of the high tables, Stephan had just finished his performance, and you were no exception to the applause he received. Unfortunately you were disturbed by a gang of regulars, Richard and his circus of thugs, throwing compliments— if you could call them that— and all sorts of ‘flattery’ your way. That was until Stephan stepped forward from behind them.

“Fellas, let a lady breathe!” He began lightheartedly, squeezing through the men, “Oh my, Ms. Valentine? Your father is looking all over for you, he’s about lost his head, come with me.” Of course, you of all people knew this was but a lie, a welcomed one at that. You quickly fled hand in hand, weaving through tables and guests out of sight.