"Giovanni Desupe, at your service." The young man said with a slight air of indifference. He held out his hand toward Remo.
"You're—"
"The owner of the casino."
"Hmm," Remo mused speculatively, raising his hand to his chin and rubbing in a decisive gesture.
"Come, let's take you to the VIP floor,"
The moment he made this suggestion, one of the guards rose a picture to Remo's line of sight and then pointed in a two o' clock direction. Carefully, Remo followed his line of direction until his eyes locked onto the scrubby form of a man, laughing giddily as he pulled his wins toward the edge of the table where he was seated.
Nolan.
His blood boiled hot at the sight of him, and he suddenly had an urge to rip out every one of Nolan's bones, nails, anything to inflict a level of pain, such that he had never imagined he would experience before his death.
But Remo had the courtesy to acknowledge Giovanni and not cause a scene.
