<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #FFBFFF"><span style="font-weight: bold"><a class="postlink" href="https://i.postimg.cc/kGpMtN8m/Untitled.png">V I V I E N N E</a></span></span></span><br/><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #FFBFFF"><span style="font-weight: bold">R O S C H A</span></span></span></div><br/>Luciano rejected her offer and she gave a small shrug, taking another puff.<span style="color: #FFBF00"> "I've had enough to smoke for the day, Miss. Roscha, but a refreshment sounds good,"</span> the man said as he got up, looking towards her only for a moment as he made his way to her small bar. It was an antique, one she had owned for many years.<span style="color: #FFBF00"> "May I?"</span> Vivienne had a feeling it wasn't really a request, but she gave a wave of her hand in affirmation.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFBF00">"I've anonymously invested into Allure before," </span>the man stated, <span style="color: #FFBF00">"but I made a recent investment on my name...Vito DeLaurentis? I dealt directly with your manager and lawyer."</span> Vivienne gave a small upturn of her lips. So he wasn't planning to go by Luciano? She supposed that was for his own safety or maybe there was more there that she needed to leave alone. The dark haired woman looked over the man once more and it was then she noticed his hair was much lighter than she had assumed on the dim club floor.<br/><br/>He glanced at her briefly, <span style="color: #FFBF00">"Do you have enemies, Miss Roscha? Anyone, you think wanted harm to your business?"</span> Vivienne adjusted some in her seat, uncrossing and recrossing her legs. <span style="color: #FFBFFF">"Enemies?"</span> she repeated thoughtfully, clearly not having considered such a thing, <span style="color: #FFBFFF">"Not in a very long time..."</span> she muttered more to herself than anything.<span style="color: #FFBFFF"> "I can't say I've done much of anything to upset anyone as far as I know. But you know how people are, petty and petulant to the end,"</span> she said, taking a noticeably irritated drag. She didn't mention that perhaps she had an on and off again thing for a while with Miguel, but they were off at the moment. Quite off. And it would stay that way for a while. <br/><br/><span style="color: #FFBF00">"Do you think they're dead?" </span>Vito ask, taking a shot then setting the glass down. He followed up with filling a martini glass and garnishing it. He came over towards her, offering her the drink. She couldn't help but give a smile, impressed by the gentlemanly behavior. It wasn't very often a man made her a drink without asking. Gladly she plucked the glass from him, taking an appreciative sip. There was hesitation in her for a moment, <span style="color: #FFBFFF">"I don't know if they're dead. I hope not. It would be quite bad for anyone who enjoys this establishment...They've just vanished." </span><br/><br/>The well dressed man leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on the chair arms. <span style="color: #FFBF00">"Not even a single clue? not even a note from anyone?"</span> The man asked again, gazing at her in a way that made her feel exposed. She gave a small shake of her head, the cigarette dangling delicately from her fingers. Setting down the glass she had in her other hand, she leaned forward to stare directly into Vito's eyes, <span style="color: #FFBFFF">"None. No calls, no notes---tell you what I do know, though. I know that I'm not the only club suffering from a.w.o.l. girls, lately." </span><br/><br/>She paused for a second to open a drawer, revealing an ashtray where she stamped out her cigarette. Gently the drawer was slid back shut and Vivienne stood, walking towards the window to stare at the skyline. She turned to face him once more, picking up her glass and taking a sip, <span style="color: #FFBFFF">"My hope is that I'm paranoid and nothing is wrong, but Mister Vito, I think there's a problem. Gut feelings aren't something to ignore. I would think you'd agree with that much." </span><br/><br/>Vivienne's eyes cut to look into Vito's icy orbs,<span style="color: #FFBFFF">"Tell me, Mister Vito, what is it that keeps you coming back here? You don't seem like the type of man to have a weakness for vapid dancers, just for cognac." </span><br/><br/>Looking at Vito, Vivienne would guess that he was a man caught more quickly at a wine or brandy tasting than he would be at some night club. Then again, Allure was more than just a night club. It was a place of refuge. A place to live your fantasies. A place to forget your woes. Vivienne finished her drink, returning her glass to the bar and herself to her seat. <span style="color: #FFBFFF">"I'm not usually a woman to get worked up,"</span> she stated, likely reassuring herself more than Vito.</span>