“Amora?” Antonio asked, turning his gaze to Buccolini who was nodding his head and smiling. His eyes were darker than they were, “She’s beautiful.” He said in a tight voice glaring at Amora who had her attention on her father.
“Right? So beautiful. She’s Mr. Francesco’s daughter. In all of the women I’ve met, his daughter caught my fancy and I’ve been hooked.”
“Oh really?” Antonio said and strolled away while Buccolini was following him from behind. “That’s good.” Antonio gritted, a waiter strolled past carrying a tray of white drinks and he grabbed two glasses, he threw the cold liquid into his mouth hastily chewing on the ice, gritting while holding onto the other glass.
This bastard! He wanted to help the anger which was overpowering him at the moment but failed, he transferred his
