It was almost an unspoken rule at this point that at events like these, Sofia was Vincenzo's date for the night.
Earlier, when they had gone for the meeting with the frenchmen, Dante had been there. But this time, it was just Sofia and Vincenzo, and Vincenzo's bodyguards, of course.
Much like he had done before, Vincenzo grabbed her hand and lead her to a private booth at the back, the pulsing bass reverberating on the floor below.
When he entered the booth, two men stood up to greet him at once. "Don Vincenzo, pleased to meet you," the man on the right said, showing a set of crooked, yellowing teeth. He stood out with his impossibly pale skin and dark hair, his eyes were a blue so light they looked nearly transparent. It was slightly unnerving, to be honest.
The other, his friend, didn't smile, his thin lips pulled up into a straight line as he greeted Vincenzo. He was easily the oldest of them all, and probably the most silent one, too.