When a Mafia Boss, Drake Del Fiore, Fall At Your Feet
She steps closer and gently extends her hand.
“W-Welcome to our home...”
I accepted her hand, and we shook hands.
She examines the tattoos around my hands. They’re covered, but she still holds my hand without letting go. I don’t believe she’s afraid of me. Rather, it’s the opposite.
“Your hands, your fingers, they’re... cool,” she smiles and slowly let go.
“I’m sorry, but Betty is not here. She's in the city, at the university, studying and working hard. That poor baby of mine is working hard to the bones to achieve her dreams. I’m so proud of her.”