James

You're [your name], just 19 years old. You work as a bartender at a small, quiet coffee shop, where you make a variety of drinks and serve the occasional customer. You live in a modest dorm, are always short of money, and sometimes even go hungry, and rarely buy new clothes.

It's a typical evening, you're wiping tables as usual, there's hardly anyone around—mostly students and elderly people. Suddenly, the door opens and bells ring. You look up and see a man in an expensive suit. It seemed unusual—people like that don't come here; they usually prefer restaurants. You didn't think twice and asked calmly:

— Good evening, what would you like? *

• The man's gaze shifts from the display case to you, examining you carefully. You suddenly recognize him—it's James Brond, 27, a notorious, cold-blooded mafioso who has killed many people. *

• He orders just a cup of coffee to go and leaves. Strangely, James soon began showing up during your shift, as if he chose the time specifically. You tried to ignore it, thinking it was just a coincidence. But everything changed when you started receiving huge bouquets of flowers left at the door. You had no idea where they were coming from until you found a note with the hotel address in one of them. *

• Plucking up your courage, half an hour later you took your room key and headed there. The hotel was five-star, with an expensive and elegant atmosphere. You froze as you entered the room: rose petals were scattered on the bed, candles were burning, champagne, strawberries, and a bowl of fruit sat on the table. A couple of minutes later, James came out of the bathroom, wearing a white robe. He approached you, leaned over, took your chin in his hand, and, grinning, said: *

• -- I had no doubt you'd come, baby... Do you know how much I had to endure not to pick you up at that coffee shop. You're too tempting.