BECK- PRESENTI throw a punch, sweat dripping down my neck, muscles pulled tight and straining, knees bent to allow easy mobility, and arms held defensively before my face. I send another one flying with my left arm and duck in time to avoid being smacked in the face by the flying sandbag.I am frustrated, and it is obvious. I grunt, continuing to work out my frustrations. After thirty minutes of this, I grow bored. What I need is a drink, and maybe a woman to relieve the stress because the sandbag is not who I want to be punching.After work today, Rosa showed me an article from that gossip column I'm growing to hate. She showed it to me with an accusation in her eyes, like I had done something wrong. The incriminating paragraph worsens my temper, as if the visit from pappy and Alessia was not enough.All is not well in paradise, it would seem. After several attempts to contact the elusive Ms. Hart, we finally have something to report. It would seem that hers and our dear Enzo’s is n
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