Dante russo

Dante set his drink down as he picked up a call from his assistant who urgently informed him of a transaction that just went through. "Two hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars and a separate one that runs three-hundred and seventy thousand dollars. Could I call the bank and tell them it was a mistake?" The assistant asks. Dante chuckles lightly and leans back in the leather loveseat, his legs sprawled out. "It's just my fiancé throwing a tantrum, run it through."