Monte Carlo nights (Five)

His expensive Hublot stated that it was a touch past 10pm. Time was not of the essence. Thoughtful chestnut eyes surveyed the surroundings. A sensual saxophone beautifully seduced the room accompanied by a proficient troupe. 

Musky cigar smoke filtered throughout the atmosphere. The in house jazz band had been playing for the last few hours. As always they were a delightful cocktail to behold. 

The intimate members only club was dimmed, relaxed. Well dressed people handsomely decorated the room. This plush, exclusive haven was a palatial reminder of why he loved coming to this region in France. The saxophonist was mesmerising. Captivating. But the hour had arrived. One last slow sip of Chardonnay lubricated his throat before he got up and exited the dulcet building. As much as he would have liked to have stayed he wasn't in Monte Carlo to enjoy all of what this city had to offer.

He had come for her. The wait, as far as he was concerned had been too long. However, she was worth it. Now was the time to make his move. Their move. She wanted out. Although that was easier said than done. The indomitable Francois, her formidable husband, would surly have something to say on the matter. Francois was a man not to be crossed. 

For those who did so, did so at their peril. 

Demola, TCC