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.CHAPTER 22.

A ONE HOUR dance practice for the wedding. And Xaver wasn't the least bit interested yet his Black Bugatti was smoothly pulling up in the parking lot.

Passing through the entrance to the building, he tugged his tie loose and made quick work of removing his suit jacket, the frown on his forehead deepening a notch. Might as well get shit done with.

The building was as large as a warehouse with the inscription "R. Dargenti Studio" boldly suspended above. The walls were a warm mix of nude and a deep brown. The Dargentis were as influential as they were Proud. Just like the Kirkgardes, their's was old money. A family business started years ago when Rosita Dargenti, a single mother of two, broke and helpless, discovered her love for dancing and choreography. An art which her children and those after them also seemed to take an interest to. I mean, who wouldn't when they were making that much bank.

The Dargenti

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