“He doesn’t have any tattoos?” When suspicion narrows her eyes, I clear my throat and add, “Just weird, that’s all. Every Visconti is so inked.” “Yeah,” she sighs, shooting Benny a sideways glare. “Not like this idiot, who doesn’t have an inch of flesh left on his body to tattoo. What do you want, Benny?” He flashes her a dazzling grin. “Is that how you speak to all your customers?”
