Chapter Text
The Godfather’s office is for business. Being summoned to the late Godmother’s study is far worse, denoting personal affront. Unaccustomed to being labeled a brat, Vincenzo stands tensely, uninvited to sit. Fabio stares impassively, tossing the evidence onto the desk.
"My son took Korea-Italia friendship too seriously to the next level..."
The photos consume him and Fabio's sermon is lost in the background noise. Capo isn't one to meddle in others' personal affairs, but he's all in when it comes to the Korean prima donna. Vincenzo was caught red-handed entering Hong Cha Young's room – Ambassador Hong Yoo Chan's only daughter. Who was the photographer? The results are so good, straight out of a ‘90s romcom. They kissed on her balconet, Cha Young in her nightgown and cashmere robe, Vincenzo in his suit, worthy of a couple's photoshoot. Side profile supremacy was skillfully captured from the most flattering angle. The ambiance of their kiss was flawlessly encapsulated, he can even hear the 'mhm mhm mhm' sound and heavy breathing. He should get the soft file.
Verily, falling in love is like hitting the ‘eject’ button on your brain's logic system. Vincenzo impulsively cuts off Fabio's lecture, a first, surprising Don. "Don't worry, papa. I'm serious about her."
"I know, son. You collect clothes and cars, not women."
"I don't see the problem then." Vincenzo shrugs nonchalantly.
Fabio patiently inhales, keeping his cool. "Our families are not in a state of war, Vincenzo."
"…and?"
"You're not Romeo, so why did you sneak past her Juliet balcony?"
"Testing the security system at Ambassador's abode, which proved bad. So, I just guarded Cha Young overnight."
Fabio's mind races, I should have shielded her from your cunning, instead he asks, "Haven't I raised you well, son?"
Vincenzo remains puzzled. "Papa?"
"I see Cha Young as my own daughter. If you are serious about her, treat her right. Ask her father's permission before you do your ministrations on her. Show as a Cassano that you respect women, especially your own. Be private, not secretive. Secrecy implies weakness. Let the world know she's your strength." Fabio passes him the golden invitation. “Just… come in through the door, not her gallery, okay?”
His thumb grazes the recipient’s name. Vincenzo ponders, then nods. "Si, papa." Not that he will apologize.
"You're dismissed."
Regardless, Vincenzo is rooted to his spot. He must've been on a potty break when the Almighty was dishing out patience.
"Aren't you leaving?"
"Can I have the photos, papa?" Vincenzo's expression is unabashedly brazen.
"Vincenzo!"
With lightning speed, Vincenzo snatches up all the photos on the desk and dashes out. "Grazie mille, papa."
Fabio leans back in his chair, pressing down on the inner corner of his eye. His head throbs from Vincenzo's behavior. "He's worse than Paolo."
This is decidedly more nerve-wracking than his first mafia mission. Vincenzo is the expert at exhibiting power, but diplomacy of feelings? Don't ask. He'd be such a scaredy-cat if he simply handed over the envelope and hightailed it out of there. His eyes close, he mumbles self-talk, ends with a 'fighting' hand gesture, and dares himself to open the glass door.
Cha Young's absence is his chance. She's at a charity event. Otherwise, her jealousy over her father's time with Vincenzo would be problematic. Mr. Nam, the Ambassador's secretary, informed him that the Ambassador spends his off-duty hours in the greenhouse, a hobby he shared with his deceased spouse. It's like a tiny jungle here.
"Buongiorno, Ambassador Hong."
The Ambassador is on the first iron step, hatted and booted, basket in hand. Ready to garden. Vincenzo realizes his attire is off. His boyish curled fringe is the only thing that's laid-back. He exhales, unaware of his held breath.
"Vincenzo, please drop the honorific. You are like a son to me. Call me abeonim.” The old man prepares to shed his gardening gear. "Jamkkanman..."
"Please... it's my honor to help you." Volunteering, Vincenzo drapes his suit on a patio chair and rolls up his shirt. No matter the dirt on his Attolini, anything for her is worth it.
"What a coincidence, you arrived just as the harvest began! Cara Cara are seedless and famed for their sweetness. Bring some for Fabio too." Hong Yoo Chan plucks an orange, wipes it on his shirt, and peels it for Vincenzo.
Vincenzo accepts it bashfully, but the first bite makes his eyes widen. It's incredibly sweet. So sweet it made his tongue tingle. He gives two thumbs up.
Hong Yoo Chan beams and embraces him. "What a pleasure to host you in my humble home (which is far from modest, it's a sprawling mansion). Stay for lunch. I'll whip up some Korean dishes."
"Teach me how to cook too, abeonim." Vincenzo smiles sweetly, his eyes disappearing into a crescent like a cat's.
He suspects Vincenzo's visit is related to the anonymous evidence he sent. Should he showcase his acting flair? Sounds fun. Hong Yoo Chan laughs gleefully.
Being on the guest list is the ultimate privilege. Esteemed individuals flock to this secluded mountaintop, 350 meters high, to marvel at the beauty of Castello di Cassano, well-known for its lavish garden parties. Dense fog often envelops the castle, creating a surreal illusion of it floating on a sea of clouds. This ethereal sight has earned it the moniker ‘Castle in the Sky’.
Vincenzo's irritation grows. His jaw aches from the perpetual smile, and his hands fidget with Zippo lighter in his trouser pockets. The line between friendliness and sycophancy is razor-thin, especially when dealing with ambitious businessmen and starry-eyed women dreaming of becoming Mrs. Cassano. The type he has no patience for are those who sell themselves as baby factories, trading children as collateral for living like a diva. His most anticipated guest is conspicuously missing. Suddenly, all eyes are drawn to a single point. Intrigued, Vincenzo turns dramatically, his heart pounding.
The final guest to arrive is Hong Cha Young, a goddess in an Armani Privè robin egg green dress with a plunging neckline. Her lustrous hair cascades in soft waves to the side, revealing her Venus fold and dimples. The air is perfumed with the scent of Santal Dān Shā. Her necklace is the showstopper tonight, the pink queen conch being an exceptionally rare pearl. Ah, she was the mysterious bidder at Christie's auction: Mademoiselle.
Vincenzo, so engrossed in observing Cha Young, doesn't notice Ambassador Hong's warm hug. "Buon compleanno, Vincenzo. Sorry we're late. Well, woman…" He glances at his daughter and chuckles.
Vincenzo replies in autopilot mode. "You're just right on time."
The astute Hong Yoo Chan pats him on the shoulder and moves to greet Fabio.
Vincenzo toasts Cha Young, who stands there, with his signature crooked smile. "Buona serata, Mademoiselle."
She assumes Vincenzo is mocking her art world codename. In truth, his Italian-French code-switching stems from nervousness. Cha Young simply smiles, which says it all, and steals his copita .
"People either love me or hate me for this... If you're going to indulge in a drink, tequila is the way to go. Some even reason it's the 'healthiest' booze." Cha Young toasts and downs Fortaleza in one gulp. Cassano really knows how to score big with this hard-to-find item in a jiffy.
Her unique greeting style is refreshing. No need for birthday pleasantries since she was the first to video call him exactly at midnight.
The quartet's rendition of Por Una Cabeza fills the air.
"Ah, my favorite score…"
"Al Pacino, eh? Why am I entangled with a man who shares my father's aesthetic?" Cha Young hands the copita to the passing steward.
"True. Scent of A Woman."
“Should we reenact the tango?” Cha Young scans the room. The women are eyeing her with laser-like intensity. To the public’s knowledge, Consigliere is still single. She's in the mood to add fuel to the fire.
He knows. Vincenzo takes Cha Young's hand and kisses its back, bowing gallantly. He escorts her to the center of the grand pavilion. Arson is his forte.
The crux of tango resides in the precise alignment of the feet, a technique seamlessly executed by Cha Young, whose high-slit skirt accentuates her lithe, slender legs. Accompanying these rhythmic movements are jolting and daring gestures that ignite sexual tension. Their bodies glide harmoniously, resembling a pair of twin flames dancing in perfect unison. While not a single word is uttered, their unwavering gazes speak volumes. Vincenzo's possessive touch, akin to a feline pissing marking its territory, underscores his exclusive claim on Cha Young. Their masterful performance elicits thunderous applause and enthusiastic whistles.
Their breaths intermingled. "Given your exceptional talent, how many women have you danced with, Cornsalad mio?"
Dame Fortune is on his side. Vincenzo is spared by the timely interruption of clinking glass. Don Fabio delivers a heartfelt speech, lauding Vincenzo’s tenacity that earned him the prestigious title of youngest Consigliere, plus his outstanding track record bodes well for future leadership. This tacit endorsement crowns him as the heir apparent to Capo. Cha Young stands beside him, her arm wrapped around his waist. The cheerful birthday song accompanies the advent of a three-tier opera cake, crafted by the world-renowned Italian patissier, Iginio Massari. Adhering to tradition, Vincenzo extinguishes the candles. He forgoes a wish, for his heart's desire is already granted with the love of his life by his side.
The first slice of cake is offered to her. Cha Young devours it with gusto that she gets a little messy. She smacks her lips repeatedly, yet a smudge of chocolate remains. His optic is riveted on her alluring red lips, intoxicated by his catnip. Unwittingly, Vincenzo instinctively cleans it by kissing the corner of her lips. She is taken aback, his bold public display of affection an anomaly.
Vincenzo regains his senses, is mortified, his face burned tomato. Cassano soldati roar with laughter at his expense. He dares not meet Fabio or Hong Yoo Chan's expressions. Despite the watchful eyes of two fathers, his self-control still faltered. His cold, ruthless image before the guests is shattered. What has possessed him? He has softened. Perhaps it's a sign of aging.
As the night wears on, the two part ways. Cha Young is monopolized by the inquisitive Cassano soldati, eager to know the woman who has tamed Gatto Sazio. Meanwhile, Vincenzo converses with Don and the Ambassador, who are discussing their retirement plans to acquire a private island in Malta. His earlier indiscretion is a minor matter, parental forgiveness is swift, and expedited by alcohol. Then, the green-eyed walking troublemaker approaches. The only reason for his unsolicited attendance is his sweet tooth for sweet little things: dessert and damsel.
"Fratello mio..." Paolo pulls him to a quieter corner. “Your wife is a professional thief, she already bilked me three digits. Please take her.”
Wife? Behave Vincenzo don't preen, behave. "What's in it for me?"
“I'll send her your mugshot with the pierced ear.”
“Sure. She'll be thrilled.” Vincenzo is ready to bolt.
"Fine! Promise I'll keep my nose clean."
Vincenzo fishes out his phone, the screen displaying recorder minutes. "Repeat that. I need proof."
In his heart Paolo curses big dick, but for him money is more important than pride. "I, Paolo Cassano, will conduct myself for the next three months. Happy?"
Vincenzo smirks, slips his phone back into his suit pocket, and cards his jet-black hair behind his ear. As he's about to depart, Paolo grabs his elbow.
"She should be Consigliere, not you. She's better at making our family wealthy." Vincenzo doesn't know if Paolo said it under the influence or seriously, but this time he concurs.
At the gazebo, Cha Young dominates the poker game against Cassano soldati. The sole woman at the table's head, she consistently rakes in the winnings – a skill honed under the tutelage of abeoji.
"Gentlemen, may I have my ladylove?" Vincenzo interjects, placing an arm around her.
Cha Young refuses to budge, her grip on her cards firm. "Not a chance. What's more exciting than winning money?"
Vincenzo leans in conspiratorially and lowers his timbre. "Secret."
Cha Young's attention is now fully captured. "Careful if this were your way to have a private party with me."
He responds by draping his suit over her shoulders, knowing her sensitivity to the cold. Cha Young immediately rises to her feet, linking her arm through his. From the corner of his eye, Vincenzo notices his soldato discreetly crossing himself, relieved that Consigliere has averted a financial catastrophe. His previously fallen dignity has been restored.
Cha Young sits in the drawing room, waiting for Vincenzo who went inside to fetch something. She secretly sniffs the lingering aroma of Aēsop Tacit on his suit sleeve and giggles like a girl smitten. When Vincenzo returns, he holds Cucinelli shoe box.
"I've initially prepared a change of shoes, worried about your feet. Coincidentally, the place we're going is dangerous for high heels." Vincenzo kneels to remove her champagne-pink heels, placing her feet on his thighs and massaging them tenderly. He anticipates her every need, without her having to ask.
Cha Young enjoys being pampered with princess treatment, but curiosity overtakes her. “Are we venturing to the armory? Dungeon? Torture chamber? Secret vault?”
Vincenzo shakes his head. She's watched too many mafia movies. After a satisfying massage, he puts ballerina flats on her feet and stows her The Row stilettos neatly in the box.
As if the castle were not big enough, this entire mountain is Cassano's domain. Autumnalis cherry blossoms are still blooming in pale pink, even in the fall, peacocks chilling out and strutting their stuff – romanticizing the mood like something out of a storybook. Vincenzo holds her close as they walk through the groomed hedge maze. Upon exiting, they are greeted by a boisterous barking.
"Aspettate!" The command comes not from him, but her.
The barking immediately ceases. Vincenzo is dumbfounded. "How did you do that?"
"Did what?"
"Tamed him. Payan was trained to obey only the members of Cassano family."
Cha Young grins. "He's got enough brains to pick out the next Cassano matriarch."
“Confident aren't you will be Signora Cassano?”
Cha Young gives him a haughty look. She pokes her index finger into his chest. "Pet can read their master's heart."
Vincenzo catches her finger. "What's exactly in my heart?"
Cha Young arches an eyebrow, her hand finding his chin. The Doberman instantly rolls onto his back, wagging his legs and tail. The once fearsome hound is now a playful puppy in Cha Young's hands.
"Good boy." Cha Young praises, rubbing Payan's ear, before walking away. Vincenzo's ears turn pink, he clears his throat and follows her.
They reach the stables. Vincenzo gently assists Cha Young to mount the snow-white stallion. Her supple silk dress allows her to sit comfortably upright instead of sideways. He positions himself behind her, instructing her to lean on him and hold the reins firmly. Vincenzo is undoubtedly a seasoned equestrian, having won multiple Polo championships between mafia families. Sportsmanship, after all, is the best way to foster friendship and trust.
Yet, Cha Young remains quiet. Her body is tense, her cheeks flushed. This position is too intimate, each friction sparks a pleasant sensation. No wonder ‘riding double’ has become a matchmaking trend among the cream of society.
Satan in suit purposely hugs her stomach to bring her closer to his body. "Relax..."
His calm alto voice, however, has the opposite effect – sending electric shock straight to the south, driving her wild. To mask her lesser impulse, Cha Young pivots the subject. "Where are you taking me, my lord?"
Karma doesn't do takeout, you'll have to dine in and face your consequences. That lord ignites something in him. Her penchant for regency romance has rubbed on him. Specter, sensing his rider's heightened adrenaline, quickens its pace. No, Vincenzo, control yourself. You are not an animal that can freely indulge in such acts on the grass.
"To paradise, milady.”
They end up in a crater-like formation. To dismount from the steed, she simply needs to hold on to him. Cha Young executes this mundane task with the elegant grace of a ballerina. He also ensures that Specter is securely tethered to a tree. As they step closer, the sight before her is beyond her wildest dreams. Exquisite ancient Roman ruins.
While carefully guiding her down the stone steps that lack any handrails whatsoever, Vincenzo narrates the lore. "This locale is a drained lake, discovered by Fabio's late wife, her pastime being scuba diving. Regrettably, she did not live to witness the restoration of this place. It remains a mystery why this site was intentionally submerged. Legend has it that it conceals 1.5 tons of gold bullions, valued at approximately 110 million euros."
This place feels like a mirage, but upon experiencing it firsthand, she begins to question the gold bars’ veracity. Portions have been reduced to rubble, while the remainder have defied the ravages of time. The mosaic floor boasts intricate patterns, and the edifices are constructed of the finest granite. There is an obelisk inscribed with ‘Piazza d'oro’ at its base, upon its corpus are carvings that resemble a satirical depiction of Babel and a caveat ‘Un diavolo scaccia l′altro’ stamped with… cat paw. It feels like journeying back in time. Shortly, in the distance, shimmering golden specks take flight. Cha Young squints, this is her first encounter with them, there's no mistaking it: fireflies!
Ouch, a stinging blow lands on his bicep, and he makes a scrunched-up face. Vincenzo presses his forefinger to his lips, shushing her. Knowing fireflies communicate through their light, he lures them by utilizing the flashlight on his device. He observes the patterns of light emitted by the fireflies and mimics them by toggling his flashlight on and off. She notices the fireflies twinkling. Vincenzo motions for her to approach slowly. She extends her hand with care, and soon a tiny luminescent creature alights on her palm. Her Duchenne smile sends fireflies fluttering in his stomach.
After a leisurely stroll, they enter the amphitheater, already teeming with spectators. A flock of pigeons disperses across the stage which resembles an ancient sundial. Without warning, Vincenzo grasps Cha Young's hands, dropping to one knee.
"Cha Young-ah..." He retrieves a mysterious object from his trouser pocket.
"Yah!" Cha Young yearns to accept, but this is too soon, too much.
Cool as a cucumber, Vincenzo waves his handkerchief in a dramatic fashion toward the cavea. "Be my guest." Yet, the telltale twitch of his lips betrays his amusement.
Shibal saekki.
Out of all the eligible bachelors in the world, she just had to fall for the angel-faced devil.
"Was that supposed to be funny? I'll be sure to laugh later." Cha Young vows silent revenge, her mind already concocting a plan to scorch his slick tongue with a taste of his own medicine: Samyang Buldak 3x Spicy.
“You sound cross with me.”
“I am not cross.”
A sudden flurry of wings interrupts their exchange, as a pigeon swoops in, startling Cha Young to plop down on that darn kerchief.
"Inzaghi!" Any cat worth its salt would be ecstatic at the sight of a bird.
The football player? Cha Young isn't surprised that Vincenzo has a feathered friend. Her father is equally eccentric, chatting with his cherished succulents as if they were drama protagonists: Pung Ho, Maru, Si Jin, Eun Som. Birds of a feather. She cringes at their perceived similarities
"How to be sure he's Inzaghi?"
"Blue ribbon on his leg."
From his aura, it's clear Inzaghi's the avian Capo. He has that certain je ne sais quoi about him.
"Want to try petting him?"
Cha Young casually strokes his feathers. Inzaghi tilts his head, his yellow marble eyes seeming to bore into her. His name rings a bell. Where did she read it?
"You know… Inzaghi has an eastern equivalent: Izanagi. A primordial deity who braved the land of the dead in pursuit of his wife who passed away while giving birth to a fire god. But she couldn't return because she had a meal from that realm."
Now that he thinks about it, pigeons are lifelong partners, but Vincenzo's never seen his mate. Are you pining for her?
"Oh, he’s giddy when I scratch under his wings."
"Yeah, I bet he does." His eyes glint mischievously. "Head is safe zone, while body is off-limits, you just sent him a mating signal."
Cha Young quickly retracts her hand and Inzaghi soars away, joining his flock.
They sit in silence, basking in the night's orchestra of crickets. The dazzling sphere, a canvas of countless stars, is the kind you rarely see in the city anymore. The Milky Way swirls vividly across the dark expanse, creating a planetarium-like experience. The sky is bathed in a deep purple glow as the moon shines brighter than ever. Rumor has it that the full moon empowers us to let go of negative emotions like regret, jealousy, or obsession. Vincenzo is driven to liberate himself from his past's nightmare.
"At eight, Park Joo Hyeong was adopted to Italy and raised by angelic foster parents who ran a restaurant. It was a brief time, but he had blissful days. One day, a robber broke into the restaurant, killing his adoptive parents. Joo Hyeong hid and managed to survive."
This is a big fact to digest, and she's still processing it. His fondness for Italian cuisine and disdain for those who treat it lightly stem from this traumatic episode. Cha Young holds his hand. He's endured a lot, and the pain still lingers. Now, however, he can look back on his former self with a sense of pity.
"Fabio is the late Vincenzo’s best friend. Long ago, Fabio, chased by another organization, was saved by Vincenzo, who risked his life to hide him. Years later, Fabio adopted the ten-year-old Park Joo Hyeong, who would eventually become Vincenzo."
Cha Young caresses his hand, offering warmth. She’s unsure if the name Vincenzo is a tribute to his dead foster father, a second chance for a new identity, or a punishment never to forget to avenge his adoptive parents’ deaths. Still, she’s grateful for this positive cycle of history: the camaraderie between Vincenzo and Luca.
"I’m two years older than Paolo. I was cleverer and braver from a young age, and he was always envious. Fabio, acknowledging my brilliance, provided me with the top education. Placed by his side for the sake of organization, I finally assumed my role and worked for it."
Blood isn’t always thicker than water. It's not about who you're related to, but about passing on your legacy to whoever worthy takes up the mantle. That's what truly counts in creating a powerful lineage.
“Anointed as Consigliere, Fabio and the organization became my raison d'être. Completely suppressing individual desires and passions, I existed as a mere ‘function’ for the family. A life far away from other people, serving only as a Consigliere, not a human being in that cruel world.”
Cha Young waits for him to finish. It’s a bit melancholic, as if he’s someone from a very distant world. Someone trapped in a mural, or in a faded newspaper. She understands. The walls he builds around himself are a shield against the sting of betrayal and bereavement.
“In life, you bundle up the good and the bad, they're all memories. Time spent together probably matters, but less time doesn't mean less love. Whether it's a day or year, and even if we may never see them again, some people leave an indelible mark on our lives.” There's much she wants to ask, much she doesn't, but she decides not to push. “Is that why… I'm the only tenant who’s ever held a place in your heart? You don't have time— you don't believe in love?"
Before their paths collided, before they even knew each other's names, she already held the key to his soul.
“I believe in and rely solely on myself. There’s never been no one but you, Cha Young-ah. You are my first and last soulmate. My comrade-in-arms, partner, and paramour.”
As the adage goes, when people fall in love with someone’s flowers, but not their roots, they don’t know what to do when autumn comes. All this time, people have only been enamored with his ‘flowers’ – his appearance as the man in Booralro suit and his surname plus status as Cassano Consigliere. If he had presented himself as Park Joo Hyeong, a simple man in unassuming clothes, they would have looked down on him, even resorting to derogatory terms like 'yellow peril’.
Meanwhile, his relationship with her has been rooted in a genuine friendship – built on a deep alignment of values, character, and morals. Only Cha Young truly sees and understands his winter. She doesn't try to mold him into a hero, she accepts him for the villain he is. After years of only death being his daily bread, she breathed life into this shell of a man, made him truly live and feel human again. She’s the one who has helped him rediscover and nurture his 'roots' with trust, heal his wounded heart, and ultimately allow love to blossom. The right person will have you falling in love thrice: for them, for yourself, and for life.
Cha Young's face lights up, her eyes crinkling. “I’ve found the perfect gift for my twin flame. To immortalize our bond, I sealed a celestial contract. The original plaque and certificate are among your presents.” She snatches her phone from his suit pocket, taps something, and thrusts her screen, revealing…
The star with the coordinates
01 20 02.21 20.0205 21
has been registered in the International Space Registry
The star is hereby named as
Cencha
L'amicizia è un'anima che abita in due corpi
“You bought us a star?” Cha Young catches his habit of forgoing ‘I-you’ in favor of ‘us-we’. Little do they know, their Unconscious has already wed them spiritually. The underlying reason why he can’t deny her whims.
“Our names combined root in ‘Innocencia’, a white rose symbolizing pure love. Cencha itself holds a profound meaning: a symphony of wisdom, creativity, and purity. The anagram of Cencha is chance. I don’t count on luck, I forge my own: our love story written in the star. As a promise, no matter what, we’ll fight for us. Even if it becomes a shooting star, it will be a beacon of hope, that fate will be kind enough to reunite us. Miracle comes with risks, after all. May our love last beyond the grave, we shall meet again, at our jipuragi.”
The most painful thing in life – regret comes in two flavors: actions taken and opportunities missed. He's haunted by past misdeeds but fears even more the things left unsaid, or love never declared. Vincenzo regards her solemnly. “Hong Cha Young… ti amo.”
Call it cliché, yet, you won't understand the magic until you've truly felt it. It took great courage for Vincenzo to express his feelings so openly. Typically, he's more subtle, armed with sophisticated aphorisms. Well, she's equally culpable for cloaking her affections behind the façade of friendship. One soul in two bodies. So, Cha Young appreciates his honesty.
“Io di più… Park Joo Hyeong.” Cha Young kisses their intertwined hands. The feeling is mutual, if not more.
A lone star in the autumn sky winking just for them.
The universe seems to conspire in their favor, fireworks burst illuminating the night. Pigeons flying in arch formation as if building a bird bridge. Standing at the top, the sky appears within reach, granting them a front-row seat to the breathtaking spectacle.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Yes, it is.” Vincenzo can't take his eyes off his favorite person. The orange of his eye. Simply being in her presence makes him feel whole.
A moment later, her lips pursed in a perfect pout.
“Is everything alright?”
“Fireworks herald midnight, cue for the mice to whisk me away in the carriage.” Cha Young's carriage, the iconic sleek white Porsche, awaits. Her mice, Nutria (her trusty driver, Park Seok Do) and Big Mouth (her gutsy bodyguard, Lee Cheol Wook), are ever-ready.
Vincenzo stands and offers his hand, which she gladly takes. But before they can take a few steps…
“Jagiya~” Cha Young clings her arms around his and nuzzles his shoulder. Oh my, she's taking advantage of his Achilles heel, playing the spoiled little rich girl to a tee. “How about a second round of tango, horizontal?” My villa is just nearby. My room is in the west wing, by the pool with a vineyard view.”
Vincenzo shuts his eyes. Should he test the villa's security? God, you're probably jaded hearing my apologies. I'm bound to slip up again. But I swear to confess my sins on Sunday morning.
Even if Don Fabio were to shoot him in the head tomorrow, Vincenzo wouldn't care. His wrath pales in comparison to her. As Paolo and Payan believed, his wife is his greatest fear. Otherwise, he might face a beating from To Soon, her precious pink bunny thingamabob, soon.