The night gradually set in, and the breeze gently brushed through the willow branches, their soft silhouettes dancing in the wind like graceful dancers, basked in the pristine moonlight that occasionally passed through the window panes.
Inside apartment 602 of the Sereriva Residential Complex.
A man more alluring than the moonlight himself reclined on a deck chair on the balcony, a phone beside his ear, curving those thin lips of his as if he were listening to the most beautiful song in the world.
In front of him was a glass of Brandy, its iridescent hue tantalizing the eyes, telling it was no ordinary drink.
Baron Lawrence listened as the voice on the other end of the line gradually reduced to steady breaths, and finally lowered his arm that had been raised all night. He placed the mobile phone on the table, picked up the glass of Brandy, and took a dignified sip.
