Let's go back on time. Earlier, before 12 midnight.

Angel left.

The same man who spent the night beneath Tony a month ago.

Now he just walked away and left Tony like he was nothing.

Head high.

Chin up.

No glance.

No pause.

Just a stranger..

Just some horny drunkard who got lucky.

Angel’s footsteps were fading in the distance.

Confident.

Controlled.

Tony watched him go.

Until he couldn't see him anymore.

‘Hah.. Angel,’ the name rolled so deliciously sweet to Tony’s tongue.

“Fuck. That is so hot.’

His pride stung worse than any bullet wound but he didn't mind.

He could still feel Angel’s slap on his face.

He liked it.

He liked how Angel hurt him.

He licked his lips.

The suits that were still inside looked at Tony.

Tony staggered back a step.

Acting.

Faking another gag.

He bent over slightly.

Retching into his hand.

The suits glanced at him in disgust.

One wrinkled his nose.

The other mumbled, “American,” in a heavily accented voice.

Then they walked out like their master.

Leaving Tony alone in the restroom.

Once they were gone and heard the door swung shut behind them, Tony stood up straight.

Breathing hard.

The act dropped.

“God..” he groaned, pressing a palm to his slapped cheek.

“He was so sexy..”

He took a deep breath and stood in front of the sink.

Looking at his reflection.

Then he grinned.

His cheek has a slight red mark on it.

‘Angel’s palm.’

Then he remembered Angel’s punch in his gut earlier.

It feels like kitty paws.

It hurts a bit but he likes it.

It's like Angel was leaving his marks all over Tony.

Like he owned him.

And Tony wants to be owned.

‘Shit, what am I thinking?’

Tony opens the faucet.

Splashed water on his face.

Then his hands gripped the marble sink like it could stop the world from spinning.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

He slapped both of his hands at his face gently.

Like trying to wake himself up.

Then he felt it.

Little Tony.

Hard.

Throbbing.

Unapologetic.

“Shit.”

He looked down like it betrayed him.

“What’s this feeling?” he asked himself.

Then he rolled his shoulders.

A realization suddenly hit him like a runaway train.

“Am I fucking in love?” he whispered.

He stared at his reflection.

“Is this what it is? This shallow? This fast?”

‘Or is it just me?’

He tried to remember his past sexual partners.

Those aren't lovers.

Just partners.

Sexually.

To scratch each other’s itch.

The string of blurry names that he sometimes even forgot to ask.

The faces.

All are just shapes.

All forgettable.

A montage of bodies.

Gasp.

Moans.

But now?

Now?

Nothing came to mind.

Just the beautiful stranger.

The thief.

Angel.

Just Angel.

His violet eyes.

His soft gasps.

His scent.

“Shit,” Tony repeated.

His voice a whisper this time.

“What the fuck did he do to me?”

It’s as if he was bewitched.

“It’s those violet eyes.”

So pretty.

He shook his head.

Left the sink and went to the closed door.

Then he stopped.

‘Fuck. Gotta take care of Tony junior first.’

**

A few minutes later..

Tony grabbed the door handle and stepped out.

And it suddenly felt like he was transported to another world.

There were no people near the restroom.

Unlike earlier.

But it was warm.

The scent of cologne, cigar, champagne and wine is assaulting his senses.

All the people were now standing near the main ballroom.

‘Room 808. MIdnight.’

Angel’s words echoed like a promise.

Or a challenge.

Tony grinned.

“Like a fucking cinderella.”

He checked his wrist.

Looking at the time.

“Shit. It’s only 9:30 pm?”

But it felt so long.

Then another worry entered his mind.

“Fuck. I don't have condoms,” he muttered. “Nor lube.”

His eyes drifted to the ballroom.

People are applauding.

Then it clicked.

‘So that's why the grand room’s quieter. Everyone’s there..’

He’s craving something in his mouth.

He looked around for a waiter.

But his eyes caught something, or someone among the gathered crowd.

‘Angel.’

Still with his white mask on.

Standing.

Front view was on Tony.

But Angel’s attention was on somewhere else.

Like he was waiting for something.

The ballroom was arranged like some kind of formal ceremony.

Waiters lined the walls.

‘So that's where you at.’

And in the center, on an elevated platform, sat a wrinkled old man in a wheelchair.

White hair.

Thin.

Pale.

Eyes sharp as knives despite his age.

Federico Luchese.

The Don of the Luchese family.

And behind him, down the platform..

Angel.

Tony’s breath hitched once he realized what’s going on.

Angel was going to be presented as a gift.

A get well soon gift.

Angel wasn't smiling.

But he was standing still.

Too still.

Blank expressions on his eyes.

Just a dull violet color.

A picture perfect posture.

‘Like a statue. Or a sacrifice.’

Tony studied Angel.

And in that moment, he realized another thing.

Why does it feel like he didn't come here on his own accord?

’What happened?’

His mind started to piece why Angel acted like that in the restroom.

‘Then, what the fuck are you doing here? What's going on?’

Tony clenched his jaw.

Fist tightening.

His head moved back and forth to Angel and the Don.

‘So that’s what this is about.’

His eyes darkened.

The Don motioned for Angel.

But he didnt moved.

One of his guards or jailer, gave a not-so-gentle nudge.

Reluctantly, Angel stepped up.

Forward.

Like a lamb going to slaughter.

Tony doesn't need to see Angel’s whole face behind the mask.

He can see it.

With his trembling body.

Tony can feel himself seething.

And he doesn't understand.

Then the Don’s wrinkled hand reached out—grasped Angel’s like he owned it.

‘NO!’

Tony’s body automatically moved on its own.

But he caught himself.

He almost ran there to whisk Angel away.

‘He’s mine!’ he wanted to shout.

Tony’s chest clenched.

He could barely breathe.

His knuckles have now turned white and gently throbbing.

Trembling with something feral.

Rage.

Denial.

He wanted to break that wrinkled hand.

Snap every bone.

Burn the entire ballroom down.

‘The entire Luchese family be damned,’ Tony was seething.

They can burn to hell for all he cares.

‘Mine!’ he wants the whole world to know.

“That old bastard didn't deserve to be near him! Or even touch him! NO ONE ELSE IS ALLOWED TO BREATHE ON WHAT’S MINE!’

His heart cracked open.

Like a window hit by a brick.

Shards everywhere.

And then—

A chill.

That prickling at the back of his neck.

Danger.

He turned his head around slowly.

Scanned the room.

His expression was a storm.

Then he saw them

Not the usual suits.

Different posture.

Different shoes.

Eyes trained.

Alert.

‘They’re not here for a fucking champagne.’

Then he spotted him.

Alessandro.

‘Ah..fuck you Alessandro.’

The little shit was talking to one of the unusual suits at the edge of the crowd.

Then, his eyes locked on Tony.

‘Shit.’

**