Dangerous Flowers

Two familiar knocks sounded like alarm bells, reminders that he had a purpose he had held onto which Viscount had dared disrupt.

He took slow steps towards the closet and pulled fresh underpants over his thighs. Next he wore joggers and tank top, before granting the other party permission.

"Mr. Quinn, good morning, sir."

"Morning, Luca."

There wasn't a hint of surprise in the eyes of the ex-consigliere, he had witnessed his own share of this scenario over the years of working for Andre. The chains did nothing to faze him, neither did those sunken eyes get to him.

He made no comment about the rough night his boss had obviously had and pulled out the seat nearby, slumping his butt into it.

Andre combed through his disheveled hair with his fingers and sat at the edge of the bed, making efforts not to pick up the phone and reply those numerous text messages from Clara.

He cleared his throat. "Do you have what I asked for?" His voice was in a rough gruffy state, hoarse and croaked