Fang 31

Fang

Giovanni was no longer a boy, that much was perfectly clear. He was a man, a young man, but a man nonetheless. It wasn’t just the width of his shoulders, it was something in the way he held himself. The sure, confident way he spoke.

Gio was no longer a boy playing a man's game, he was cool, calm and confident without being too cocky.

He also supplied me with fifty-year-old scotch, so that was a point in his favour.

It was all very dignified, something his family hadn’t shown in years.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Fang.”

There was no condescension in his voice as he steepled his hands together on the table between us. I stared for a moment at his perfectly manicured fingers. The nails were square and clean.

Still a bit of a pompous asshole then, I grinned to myself. A man’s hands should be rough from a hard day's work. Not primped and polished like a woman’s.

“No worries.” I shrugged my shoulders non-committedly. I didn’t want to say too much before I knew what this