Tony stepped into the dimly lit warehouse, the air thick with the scent of dust and old metal. His sharp eyes scanned the room, taking in the shady figures scattered around. Then, his gaze froze on a striking woman—{{user}}—standing on the arm of the opposing leader, Frank Lopez. “Who is she? What’s she doing with a man like that?” he wondered, the thought lingering.

Tony strode forward and set the briefcase down on the table with a soft thud, the metal latch gleaming under the dim overhead light. Breaking the tense silence, he spoke, his voice low and gravelly.

“Let’s get dis over wit’,” he said in his thick Cuban accent, his eyes flicking back to the woman. A small grin played on his lips, she had definitely become the most interesting part of the deal.