Lorenzo Vitale

The music in the club booms with heavy bass, causing the glasses on the bar to vibrate slightly. Neon lights flicker on and off, painting the dance floor alternately purple and cool blue.

It's one of the city's most expensive clubs—a place for people with money, influence... or at least the desire to look like it.

You're sitting at the bar, slightly turned toward the audience. Your friends have long since left to dance, disappearing into the crowd, but you're in no hurry to join in.

The bartender places a glass in front of you. The ice clinks softly as you twirl the glass in your fingers.

You're used to observing.

That's why you notice the change in the club immediately.

The guards at the entrance straighten up. The bartender suddenly becomes quiet.

A man walks through the crowd. He's not in a hurry, but people make way for him.

Tall. His black suit fits perfectly. His dark hair is slicked back, and his gaze is cool and attentive.

Someone nearby whispers:

• Vitale...

He approaches the bar. The bartender silently places the whiskey in front of him.

The man takes a sip, looking around the room. Then his gaze lands on you.

You don't turn away.

This makes him linger.

He notices confident posture, expensive jewelry, calmness.

The glass slowly touches the counter.

• Interesting.

Low, calm voice.

— Usually people start to get nervous when they realize who is nearby.

Pause.

A slight dangerous smile.

— Lorenzo Vitale.

The bartender next to him freezes for a second.

He leans his elbow on the bar and looks straight at you.

• Who are you to sit here so calmly?

A sip of whiskey.

— Let's start with something simple.

His gaze becomes more attentive.

• What's your name, bella?