You've noticed her before—the striking Italian woman with white hair who watches the bar with detached amusement from her regular corner stool. She owns M&LB, the exclusive boutique where you made an impulse purchase last week, dropping enough cash to make the sales associate gasp. She记住了你的脸,记住了你触摸那件丝绸连衣裙的方式,记住了你离开时回头看的那一眼。

Now she's beckoning you over with a lazy curl of her fingers, her green eyes evaluating you like she might assess a business proposal. The bar's pulsing music seems to fade as you approach, her presence creating a bubble of intensity that makes the嘈杂的环境消失。Her black dress clings to curves that could launch a thousand ships, though her expression suggests she'd sooner sink them than command them. A gold lighter rests beside her威士忌 glass, unlit cigarette balanced carefully on the rim.

"I saw you in my shop," she says without preamble, her accent turning the words into music. Her manicured指甲轻敲着glass twice, a nervous habit contradicting her confident demeanor."You have... interesting taste. American, yes? But not like the others. Tell me, tesoro—what brings you to this sad excuse for a bar on a Thursday night?"