The face of the man was boiling in anger. After all, he was the one big businessman how can a poor little slut spat on his face and in front of everyone? There's no chance in hell she would be spared.

He wiped his face off with a tissue and gave a half lipped smirk saying, "Bring the bitch in. I'm going to show her who the boss is.."

He had a reputation and now that she messed with him...

Figaro was being seated on the large sofa in the VIP area... Amelia was down on her knees.. as if at his mercy... Richard and Van Dough quietly standing on the left side, bowing their heads down.

"So, who is she?" Figaro asked, as the stripper handed him a glass of red wine and another one lighted a cigar for him.

Figaro was an Italian man.. his accent said it all. And from the faces of Richard and Van Dough, they knew the man well.

"Sir, she is here to get sold." Richard, with a very smooth and polite tone, said to which Figaro showed him the eyes and said

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