"It's simple. We don't just gamble with money—we gamble with lives. How about it?" Don Adams's voice carried a venomous edge as he leaned back in his chair, a lewd smirk on his face.
"I fancy your women, and I'd love to add them to my collection," he added, his tone dripping with arrogance.
Unbeknownst to Mr. Adams, those words were the equivalent of signing his own death certificate.
His ignorance of the storm brewing in Ross's calm demeanor would be his undoing.
His eyes swept over the group of women flanking Ross, pausing particularly on Althea.
She wasn't just beautiful; she was a global icon—a star adored by millions. The idea of claiming her for himself made Don's grin widen.
But he didn't stop there. His gaze moved hungrily to the others, appreciating each woman with an unsettling intensity.
Don didn't discriminate; he appreciated beauty in all its forms.
