YOU MUST BE MINE
The clerk was confused, ' what has the police got to do with all this ' She wondered.
"Was there some sort of criminal offense?" She asked.
"Maybe worse than that," Kloe replied before leaving to meet with the man who just got out of his car.
"Mr. Owen," She greeted him stretching out her hand for a handshake.
"Miss Kloe, how are you doing?" He asked her with a smile on his face.
Mr. Owen the founder of the Bounty fashion and son to a Governor, was an average-height, light-skinned man with blonde hair, the luxurious car, his outfit, and the number of bodyguards behind gave away his political eminence.
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