An hour after Richmond left the Royal Bar for one of his favourite relaxation longues, he got a call from, Howard Gibson, his father.
Richmond's narrowed eyes darkened.
This wasn't the call he was expecting. He stared at the ringing phone vibrating on the table for a while, undecided on whether to take the call or not.
His frigid gaze was void of emotions and his countenance was like that of a wounded beast.
Even the double dry martini he was sipping did little to tame the storm swirling inside his heart.
Owen was yet to call him with a positive report of Lola's whereabouts and this was slowly suffocating his soul.
Just as the ringing phone was about to disconnect, Richmond swiped the answer button to receive the call.
"Good evening, Dad."
"Good evening, son." The rich and well textured voice of Howard Gibson echoed calmly from the other end of the phone.
"Did I call at a bad time?"
