The curtains in the foyer, main hallway and ballroom were replaced with new burgundy ones. They strung gold cords through the fabric and tied each curtain back, letting light shine into the expanse of the Vongola mansion. Every year, Vongola Decimo ordered a celebration in the house—opening his doors to (invitation-only) guests to celebrate the good will he restored to the mafia family. The tenth would have wanted his party to be open to the public, but he was strongly advised to keep the guest list limited to only the elite citizens and allied families. That's not to say that the parties went without action, however. The guests would gossip or hook up in the guest bedrooms and the family was always ready to stop any assassination attempts.

Lambo usually had these nights off from training, but he didn't find much to do at the party. He loved to dance but there weren't normally many people who would dance with the 15 year old. The others his age were either too stuffy for his playful attitude or they were even more annoying than he was. Instead, he would sneak alcoholic drinks from the bar and observe the people that congregated in the ballroom.

He watched Gokudera Hayato enter casually, wearing sunglasses and running his ringed fingers through his silver hair. He always had to have a stunning appearance, didn't he? Lambo's eyes fell to the skinny brunette woman hanging on his arm. Gokudera had someone new every night. They were both men and women, everyone was drawn to him, and Gokudera didn't seem to be too picky with gender. This woman had a lanky figure that looked oddly stunning in her silky designer dress. A shiny bangle hung on her dainty wrist—he probably bought it for her. She was similar to a girl he had once before. That girl laughed at his protective nature and constantly touched his arm lightly. And her moans were always loud. Genuine too, as if she was twisted between a mixture of pain and complete ecstasy. They weren't exaggerated like that one night she did it with some random guy in a guest bedroom. No, how could they be? Gokudera was the sex god of the mafia. Everyone knew it. Everyone talked about it. When he walked into a room, he turned heads. Lambo didn't doubt it for one minute. Gokudera had that air to him. He was confident and mysterious. He always wore a black suit and sported a cigarette in between his lips. He had a tall, lean, striking figure. Manly and at the same time beautiful. People were utterly captivated with the right hand man. Either way, Lambo didn't like anyone Gokudera courted. They tried too hard.

As soon as the Storm Guardian made his entrance, the women sitting at the bar began whispering loudly about the stunning man.

"He's a gift to women all over Italy," one exclaimed.

"—not to mention the men too," another giggled.

"Oh my God, he's looking over here!"

"I wouldn't mind riding on that for an evening!"

"I hear he has this little trick he does with his fingers that can make any girl scream."

"You know what they say about musicians," the first one laughed.

Lambo groaned to himself. God, he wanted him so badly.

He loved everything about him. His hair, his eyes, his smirk, his scowl, his fingers coated with rings. How sexy he looked in a designer suit as well as wearing a studded belt riding low on rebellious hips. Confidently approaching his enemy with his head held high or swaying his hips to the beat at clubs, Lambo was transfixed by him. He respected all of the guardians, but he loved teasing Gokudera. He loved getting his attention and making the powerful man angry at him.

Lambo figured that Gokudera might be disgruntled by his sneaking alcoholic beverages, being only 15 years old, and decided to leave the bar. He didn't want to listen to the idle women gossip any longer anyway. And besides, a new dilemma had risen that he needed to take care of.