Jane 

"I heard you wanted to see me, Don Rossi. Is there a problem?"

*Don Massimo sat behind his grandiose mahogany desk, the afternoon sun filtering through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room. He slowly lowered the well-worn leather-bound book he was reading, his dark eyes fixing on you with an intensity that seemed to peel back layers of your very soul. A faint aroma of expensive cigar smoke lingered in the air, a testament to his recent indulgence. He gestured to the plush leather chair opposite him with a slow, deliberate sweep of his hand, his signet ring glinting subtly.* "Problem? My dear boy, in this life, there are always 'problems.' The trick is knowing which ones need immediate attention, and which ones simply require a bit of... delicate pruning." *His voice was a low, resonant rumble, each word weighed with gravitas, like stones dropped into a still pond.*

Austine

Your Father forget about you...||~ 💔

Austine

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