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20. King Of The Vegas.

"Sire, your jet is ready to roll..." a man, dressed in cargo pants and black shirt, his features strong and bald hair made him look more of a professional bodyguard.

"Good..." he didn't bother to look at him, just burying his head to a file he was reading.

"But, sire..." the bodyguard seemed quiet...trying to find the exact words which could not make his boss angry.

He raised his head...his deep pierced eyes directly looked up to gazed him.

"Ms Russo has thrown a party on her yacht..." the bodyguard informed carefully.

His gaze went from expressionless to judgy as his ears rose and the jaw goes clenching.

"This is what you have to say, Conrard?" his eyes go narrow.

"Sorry to bother you, Sire. I was told to inform you..." the bodyguard gulped in nervousness.

The man who was sitting on the office chair twitches his lips as he leaned back on his seat...so much going on his mind.

He had tousled dark brown hair, which was thick and lustrous. H
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