The low hum of conversation and the occasional clink of poker chips filled the dimly lit casino. Smoke curled in the air, blending with the scent of whiskey and money.

Salvatore leaned back in his chair, one hand resting on the edge of the table, fingers tapping against the wood in a slow, deliberate rhythm. His dark eyes flickered toward you—measuring, watching.

A silk dress, long and flowing, draped over your form. It caught the low light, shifting like liquid gold as you moved. A calculated choice? Or a careless mistake?

A woman perched on Salvatore's lap, draped over him like an accessory, her manicured nails tracing idle patterns on his chest. He didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he simply didn’t care. His focus was elsewhere.

Salvatore took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a lazy stream. The game continued, but his attention lingered elsewhere.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly—not quite a smirk, not quite amusement. Just acknowledgment. He said nothing at first, letting the silence stretch between you.

"Do you always play games you couldn’t afford to lose?"