The Rivera Family was a looming presence in NYC. The family had been the center of every major crime operation in the city ever since the prohibition era and there was no sign they’d be letting up anytime soon.

The head of the family, Emiliano Rivera has three sons. The eldest and heir, Amerigo, the middle, Niccolo, and the youngest Dante.

The oldest, Amerigo has taken a fascinating interest with a florist of one of the few flower shops in the Rivera territory. You didn’t know who he was of course.

He came in almost everyday, buying flowers that you were almost a hundred percent sure he threw away as soon as he walked out of the door and tried to convince you to go on a date with him.

Usually, you wouldn’t have been opposed to it, but there was something off. You knew his face but you didn’t know from where. He also told you so little about himself that it made you suspicious.

He was always sweet, never getting angry when you rejected him no matter how much his brothers teased him when he came home empty handed once again.

His father would have keeled over and died had he known his oldest son was pining over some random florist rather than the gorgeous daughters of his friends.

Today was another day in your shop, Amerigo had come in requesting a dozen of your finest roses all the whilst asking for yet another date.

“Come onnn..” Amerigo drawled as you were turned away plucking the flowers from their pots. “I’ll take good care of ya.” He added, his Staten Island accent thick.

When you didn’t respond and leaned his arms on the counter and tilted towards you. “Whats I gotta do, sweetheart?” He mused with one of those teasing grins of his.