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1 | Clara Saint

As the years passed, Vincent's grip on power only tightened. His enemies either bowed to his authority or vanished without a trace. He had become more than a man; he was a symbol of terror and power in equal measure, a living embodiment of the Mafia's ruthlessness and ambition.

And I would be marrying his brother, Roman Kovak.

I've never met him, nor would I want too.

Old men.

Disgust me.

I stood beside my parents as they continued to speak to other people, I make my way to the bar leaving them behind before resting onto one of the stools. The bartenders eyes locks with mine and he comes my way, throwing a towel over his shoulders before leaning his elbows onto the counter.

"Clara Saint, what would you like?" A smile spreads across my lips as I move closer to him, his eyes fall down to my red lips before moving closer to my breasts.

"A red wine, Antonio." I whisper his name, he nods his head and pushes away from the counter as I open my purse to slide out a packet of cigarettes.

Beside me, a gentleman extended his lighter, the flame dancing to life with a casual flick of his thumb.

"Thank you," I murmured, exhaling a plume of smoke that mingled with the ambient haze. I settled back into my perch, the velvety cushion caressing my skin.

Antonio returned with a grace that matched the refined atmosphere of the bar. He placed the glass of red wine before me, the deep hue of the liquid catching the soft glow of the overhead lights.

With a measured grace, I lifted the glass, letting the wine swirl gently as if awakening its complex flavors. The first sip danced across my palate, a symphony of notes that spoke of elegance and maturity.

Amidst this indulgence, a gentle touch settled upon my shoulder, causing me to turn my head. My father stood there, a pillar of authority even in the midst of opulence. His words were accompanied by the subtle rustle of his well-tailored suit.

"Your mother and I are heading home," he informed me, his tone a blend of warmth and expectation.

I nodded, acknowledging his words. "Of course, father. I'll be on my way shortly." His kiss on my cheek held a tenderness that conveyed both his pride and his protective nature. As they departed, my mother's presence merged seamlessly with his, a united front that left an echo of their authority in the room

Suddenly the room went silent, and it felt as if all the power was sucked out of the room. I turn my head to the side and my eyes lock with a pair of dark brown ones, he stood tall and huge-a black suit that was just made for him, outlining ever muscle on his body whilst sitting well on his broad shoulders.

Who is this man?

There were four body guards behind him, not that he needed a single one of them by the looks of him. The air between us seemed charged with recognition, though we were strangers in this decadent realm.

Yet, even as curiosity gnawed at me, I turned my head back to my drink. I didn't want to appear overtly intrigued, even though the allure of the unknown was a siren's call. The rich red wine found its way to my lips, a vessel of distraction from the potent presence that had entered the room.

"Whiskey," his command cut through the silence, each syllable dipped in darkness.

I settle my cigarette into the bowl.

Antonio's response was swift, though it carried a note of deference that hinted at a respect bordering on fear. "Yes, sir."

I watched the exchange unfold from the periphery of my own thoughts, my focus on the crimson swirls within my wine glass. The momentary distraction of the enigmatic man did little to deter my attention from the drink before me, even as the tension in the room remained palpable.