Getting Dumped Sucks, Getting A New Mafia Boyfriend is... better...?

"It's a shame you think so lowly of the advertising business," he teased, grinning. "But if you insist on talking business--shall we go someplace more private and draw up a contract?"

"Where do you have in mind?" Draza asked and he stood up, adjusting his hair and smoothing his dress. He fiddled with his bracelet. He could remember his self-defense if he needed to, wouldn't he...?

"A simple motel room would suffice," he suggested, taking a long drag of his cigarette. He tossed the butt on the ground, crushing it under his expensive-looking high-top.

Draza shrugged.

"Fine. But when they look at us like I'm a prostitute, don't say I didn't tell you it would happen."

"Would you like to be a prostitute? You sure bring up wanting to fuck me often enough.

"Did you drive here, or will we take my car, Dragovic?"

"I walked. My flower shop isn't too far." He shrugged.

"We'll drive," he replied pleasantly, walking outside the bar without so much as a gesture that Draza should follow. He approached a red sports car parked on the street, slipping into the backseat. He beckoned with his finger for Draza to join him.

"You...don't drive?" Draza asked, frowning. What a turn off. Not that it mattered; this was a business proposition and nothing else, but he couldn't help but think that. He begrudgingly slid into the backseat.

He pulled out another cigarette, lighting it and puffing smoke into the limited amount of space.

"Driver, nearest motel," he commanded coolly. He shook the pack of cigarettes at Draza.

"Smoke?"

"No. I...I'm trying to quit," he replied honestly as he tucked stray hair into his headband.

He snorted. "Are you a man or a whore?" he inquired, leaning close and blowing smoke in his face. "Men smoke. Come on, I just saw you smoking at the bar." The smoke filling the car smelled rich and smooth. He shook the pack again; they were Sobranie Black Russians, all lined up in the pretty black box. The gold filter on his cigarette glittered in the passing streetlights.

"Yes, well, I'm honestly neither a man nor a whore but that's not really important, now is it?" Draza grumbled as he waved the smoke out of his face.

"Not a man?" he asked, his eyes momentarily darting toward Draza's skirt. "...How interesting. Regardless, if you don't want me to fuck you up the ass, you'll smoke."

He laughed, his unnerving eyes never leaving Draza. "When I fuck people, I fuck hard, too. Ask anyone.

"I don't fuck people I respect, though." He placed the pack of cigarettes in Draza's lap, taking another long drag.

Draza sneered at Cesario as he picked up the pack of cigarettes. "Don't flatter yourself. You aren't even my type. Too much of an ass."

He handed the cigarettes back to Cesario with a fake, sharp smile. "Keep them. I know how expensive they are. Wouldn't want to waste your money on someone like me, hm?"

"I don't know why you've been staring at my ass, but if you want me to fuck you I'll fuck you," he said, shrugging and putting the cigarettes back in his pocket.  His driver pulled into the motel parking lot, and he got out, holding the door open for Draza.

"Here we are--a motel.  Perfect for fucking."  He cackled, flashing those bright white teeth.  "Driver, go buy us a room--usual name."

"Stop it, or I will leave," Draza snapped.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not gonna stop smoking--I have balls and I'm gonna smoke if I fucking want to smoke. Either join me or deal with it."

Draza sighed heavily.

"You know what? Whatever. Let's just get this over with so I don't have to deal with you anymore. Mmkay?"

Cesario's driver returned from the lobby with a room key; Cesario grabbed it from him and started walking, his suit jacket flowing behind him in the wind. He held the room door open for Draza, gesturing with a flourish.

Draza walked behind him, his heels clicking as he walked.

He shut the door and locked it, pointedly standing despite the large bed and chairs present in the room.

"Okay, okay. Let's do business. You're sure you don't want a smoke?"