“Do you want it?”

The black-haired man languidly handed you a cigarette, a brow faintly cocked. The sound of some loud song blasted in the club you stood behind, yet it all was muffled by your mind.

Dubbed “The Boss” around town, Choso Kamo was the one handing you a cigarette with his number on it. You never smoked before. Choso was dangerous, everyone knew that. Yet, even with that knowledge, you chased after him. And now he’s the one giving you his number.

He has a wife, yes. One he’s been with for years. A wife who didn’t approve of his dealings. You knew it was wrong; to take the number of the most dangerous man around in the back of a club. You knew it was wrong to take the number of a man who was already spoken for.

Yet you palmed it.