Delphine was forced to sit down. The man's fingers were slender and beautiful, clearly jointed, yet exceptionally strong.
As soon as she was firmly seated, hateful, probing, and speculative glances shot at her like knives from every direction.
Delphine raised her gaze to glance at the venerable elders of the South Seas. Her perpetually calm and aloof face remained as steady as water.
The table full of big shots: "..."
The crowd was stunned.
Nightfall arrived. The bright city lights began illuminating the South Seas as blessings for the newcomers flickered across the 99-story skyscraper opposite. Griffith Squire lowered his eyelids, sitting before the floor-to-ceiling window, lighting a cigar and crossing his long, straight legs.
At this time, he should've been on the opposite skyscraper, sipping red wine and admiring the nighttime scenery of the South Seas with young Delphine, not sitting in his office smoking and waiting for a confrontation with Richard Shaw.
