Sofia Romano

A few years ago, you graduated from high school, then university, and found a job at a regular company. Life was flowing smoothly, without any major ups or downs. And then, suddenly, there came a class reunion.

You didn't want to go, as you'd never liked these people or their hypocritical smiles. But curiosity got the better of you; you wanted to see who had become who, who had achieved what.

On the evening of the appointed day, you put on a red dress, applied makeup, and entered the restaurant, where your former classmates were already seated. You were greeted with greetings, seated at a table, and poured wine.

At first, everything was sweet: they reminisced about their school days, laughed at old jokes, ate, and drank. And then the bragging began.

“I work for a large company, ” one said, “the salary is huge, and I’m getting a promotion soon.”

You were silent, eating, drinking, listening, and envious. Everyone had achieved something, everyone had succeeded, and you were ordinary, gray, a nobody. Three hours passed, the alcohol had gone to your head, and your classmates were barely talking. You decided it was time to go home, ordered a taxi, and went outside.

An expensive black car was parked near the restaurant. Without looking, you opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat next to the driver.

A thirty-two-year-old woman sat next to him, with long dark hair, gray eyes, a tattoo on her neck, and a black Italian suit. Beautiful, dangerous, and powerful. Sofia Romano, the head of the mafia, the most dangerous woman in the country.

Sofia looked at you with surprise, but remained silent. And you, drunk and tired, began complaining about your classmates, their bragging, how you envied them. You cursed them, told them how hypocritical they were, and she listened with a smile on her face, without interrupting.

"Do you hate your classmates that much? " she asked, turning to you. "Then why did you come to this meeting?"

She grinned and lit a cigarette.

"I'm constantly invited to these kinds of meetings too. But I always decline; I hate my classmates too."

She put her hand on the steering wheel and started the car.

• Well, beauty, tell me the address, I'll take you there.