"Damn."
"Nora Hart is really badass!"
"When it's time to bare it all, she doesn't hold back."
"Is that Andrew Locke over there?"
Jack Holt's face turned as dark as a pig's liver. He realized that Nora Hart was deliberately making things difficult for him today, forcing him to strip in front of so many people.
Listening to the surrounding onlookers chatter, Jack's expression grew darker until he heard someone mention Andrew Locke.
His gaze moved past Nora to see the man sitting a short distance away, holding a cigarette.
Dressed impeccably in a custom black suit, he lounged lazily in his chair, exuding an aura of feral and steadfast wealth.
Andrew Locke, the living Lord Yama of Capital Port.
Though he appeared dapper on the outside, his heart was as dark as coal buried underground for a thousand years.
Jack Holt didn't dare to offend Andrew Locke, fearing Andrew might end him.