Piano in the dark.

Piano in the dark.

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Dec 30, 2017
1925... New York. Prohibition has been in full swing for five years after the Volstead Act was passed in Congress. The production and sale of alcohol was banned but the federal government lacked the resources to enforce it. Speakeasy clubs sprung up everywhere with guesses of anything up to 100,000. Jazz music dispersed from New Orleans , northwards to New York. The 21 club was the place to be and to be seen. It was a favourite of Humphrey Bogart, Ernest Hemingway and Louis Armstrong. Piero Barone was drawn to the 21 club like a moth to the flame. His piano playing skills were legendary. Along with barman, Gianluca Ginoble and Ignazio Boschetto, many spent their evenings forgetting their days. No questions were asked and none were answered. That is until the night Sophia walked through the door and the rest is, as they say, the stuff that stories are made of...
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𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐚 I downed a shot of tequila, allowing the burning liquid to slide down my throat and settle in my stomach. I deserved to have some fun without boundaries. I poured a second glass and it disappeared as quickly as the first. Then came the third, fourth and fifth. Still I wasn't satisfied. My landlady was a bitch, I was fired and my boyfriend cheated on me. My nerves were shot to hell! My eyes lazily scanned the nightclub as I consecutively downed my sixth shot for the evening. Life's a bitch. 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐨 𝐆𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐨 I sat in the VIP section of the club, a glass of vodka in my hand as I watched the woman several yards away drowning herself in tequila. My lips curled in amusement. The red dress she wore showed a generous amount of cleavage, her ass was ripe and full, begging to be groped. She looked to be eighteen. I wondered what a pretty thing like her was doing in a place like this, drinking like there was no tomorrow. Not that it was any of my business. Women came, got laid and wasted in this nightclub every night. Nothing special to see here. "Muori figlio di puttana." I pulled the trigger on my gun and shot the Mexican in the head after he was caught stealing coke from my warehouse. Blood splattered everywhere, staining the walls and my designer suit. I tucked my gun back in my pocket and left the ally. "He killed a guy!" I shrieked as I turned to run away from there as fast as possible. Just as I was about to run back inside, a large hand clamped around my neck and I was pressed up against a rock solid chest. My jaw was caressed by - a gun!? "Going somewhere piccola?" a deep voice whispered in my ear. "Let me go, you sick twisted bastard!" I growled. "Feisty and a foul mouth. I like it," he chuckled. "You killed someone! I'm calling the cops!" I shouted. "Princess I own the cops," he said stroking my face. "and now I own you. Say goodbye to your old lif

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