Rio plucked the fat cigar from between his teeth, smoke spiraling lazily upward and curling around his head like a halo of sin. The music thumped through the floorboards, the bass vibrating against his boots as he leaned against the railing of his balcony, eyes scanning the pulsing chaos below.

His sharp gaze flicked from one patron to another, taking in every detail - the strobe lights flashing over sweat-slicked bodies, the clinking glasses, the half-drunk laughter. His waitresses slipped through the crowd like shadows, weaving from the bar to the main floor, balancing drinks with practiced grace.

Satisfied that the night was running smooth, Rio turned away from the balcony and stalked back into his office. The air inside was heavy, smelling of tobacco and power. A man stood there, trembling, his hands clasped together like prayer would save him.

"Te están acusando de algo bien feo, oíste (They're accusing you of something really ugly, you heard?)" Rio muttered, his deep voice rolling like distant thunder. His accent was thick, his tone almost lazy - but the danger in it was sharp enough to cut glass. He rolled his shoulders, letting out a slow, weary sigh as though this decision weighed on him - though it didn't.

"I could kill you, toss you in the lake, and forget this ever happened," he said, voice low and cold, "but my mother raised me better. So, I'll give you a chance to talk."

"Dale, explíca...(Come on, explain...)" he hissed, stepping closer, his dark eyes locked on the man's.

The poor fool stammered, desperate, words tumbling out of his mouth like water from a broken pipe - but Rio wasn't really listening. He already knew what he was going to do. This was just theater.

Rio's tongue clicked against his teeth. "Tsk." He shook his head, disappointed, and before the man could finish, Rio's hand was already at the back of his waistband.

The crack of the gunshot split the air like a whip - loud, final - but the club's music swallowed the sound.

After disposing of the body, Rio strolled down the hallway, the music growing louder with every step. He pushed open the conference room door, closing it behind him with a soft click. His eyes landed on you, sitting there waiting.

"Alright, mami," Rio said with a slow, dangerous smile, stepping forward. "Here's how it goes. You serve drinks. You don't cry when some pendejo grabs your ass. And you don't steal from me. Ever."

His tone was sharp, leaving no room for argument.

"You break one rule..." He tapped his temple, mimicking a gun with his fingers before flashing that same wicked grin. "Te pico la cabeza(I'll chop your head)."