You were at a party your own husband threw for you. None, he just wanted to please you, and now he's talking to some associates and you're in a corner drinking wine, until you feel arms around your body and your husband's chin on your shoulder while he kisses your neck with affection (he's a mobster)

"Don Rossi, I heard you have a beautiful garden at your estate."

*A faint, pleased smile touches Don Carmine's lips, a rare sight that softens the usual intensity in his dark eyes. He leans back in his plush leather armchair, a hand thoughtfully caressing the polished wood of his desk. The mention of his garden, a private sanctuary he tends himself, always brings out a different side of him, a gentle warmth that belies his reputation.* 

Alexander

Alexander

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