The dance ended, and Luke walked away completely satisfied.
Ivanka stood there in a daze, reaching up to touch her lips. In that instant, she understood everything.
I think, perhaps, that guy took advantage of me.
"That hateful Luke Shaw! How dare he manipulate me with words!"
Ivanka cursed angrily, but as she cursed, she burst into laughter.
He's quite interesting.
Disappearing Act
The kiss with the young woman was something to savor. Feeling pleased, Luke actually hummed a tune as he returned to the main hall, where he ran into Charlie and Robert.
"Where's Emily? I don't see her."
Charlie looked at his boss with an extremely complicated gaze, a mixture of envy, jealousy, and resentment.
"Speak up! Where did Emily go?"
Robert answered, "She went home."
"Home?"
A hundred question marks popped up in Luke's mind. "Who allowed her to go home?"
Charlie curled his lip, half-mocking and half-helpless. "When she came downstairs just now, you were embracing and kissing the girl in the white dress. She saw it, and then she left. And here's this..." He pulled out the amethyst pendant and the crescent earrings from his pocket.
"She asked me to give these back to you."
Luke: "..."
He had a feeling of being caught in the act. Fortunately, his skin was thick enough; he brushed it off with a cough.
"Let her go, then. How did the meeting go?"
"Miss Emily performed superbly. She successfully intimidated the major banks and even connected with Wendy Bronwen from Queen Investment. Mrs. Bronwen was very impressed with her and invited Miss Emily to dinner."
"Is that so?"
Luke was slightly surprised. Choosing that girl was just a spur-of-the-moment decision; he had no other motives. As for the meeting, truthfully, whether it succeeded or failed made absolutely no difference.
"Since the first phase of the plan succeeded, the fundraising proposal should be put on the agenda. Robert, it's in your hands."
"I won't let you down."
Luke patted his shoulder, smiling.
"Don't be so serious. Work is work, and life is life. Have fun tonight. All expenses are on my tab."
Robert declined. "No need, boss. The proposal isn't finished yet. I need to go back and revise it."
"Alright then, see you tomorrow."
Luke didn't force him, watching him leave the hall until his tall, thin figure disappeared into the crowd. He then turned back, his brows slightly furrowed, and a flicker of a strange emotion passed through his pale-green eyes.
Charlie asked curiously, "What are you thinking about?"
Luke ordered a glass of red wine and spoke as he drank, "How has Robert been performing at the company?"
"He's great!"
"In what way?"
"Hardworking, diligent, never complains. He organized the finance department perfectly just a few days after arriving."
"Is that all?"
Charlie looked confused. "Isn't that enough?"
Luke pinched the bridge of his nose. He really wanted to kick this dimwit back to Coast City. He honestly didn't know what they were teaching at the University of Southern California to let him graduate. Did the old man bribe the Chancellor's office?
As soon as the financing matter is settled, I absolutely need to find a smart and beautiful assistant—someone who can handle high society, cook, write code, and fight off thugs, like Natasha Romanoff.
As for this guy, he could just go drive.
"Has he made any friends at the company?" Luke asked again.
Charlie thought back, then shook his head.
"Robert doesn't talk much. He goes straight home after work every day. I haven't heard of him attending any colleague gatherings. By the way, why are you asking this? Are you suspecting him?"
Luke didn't answer. He sat on the sofa, lost in thought. After a moment, he called Charlie over and whispered instructions to him. Whatever he said, Charlie's face turned bitter, full of reluctance.
"Why do I have to go? I'm not going."
"Should I go instead?"
"I don't even know him!"
Luke reached into his pocket and took out a copper token inscribed with ancient Chinese characters, tossing it to Charlie. "Show him this, and he'll know you."
"But..."
Luke snapped, "I'm not asking you to commit murder or arson. It's just a meeting. What? Are you unwilling?"
"Fi-fine."
Charlie sighed and left with the copper token.
A Knock in the Night
It was eleven o'clock at night in a run-down building in Queens.
A drunken Robert lay on the sofa, staring listlessly at the night view outside the window.
His head was dizzy and uncontrollable, and his thoughts began to wander. Many memories he wished to suppress resurfaced.
Carmine Falcone!
The name made Robert instinctively tremble. He hugged his shoulders, shivering uncontrollably. His eyes were wide with resentment and unconcealed fear deep in his pupils.
He hated that man; he wished he could cut him into a thousand pieces.
The business he had worked hard for years to build, his promising future, and his beautiful girlfriend—all gone, simply because of a small financial dispute. Robert had become a sacrifice used by Falcone to establish his authority.
He was thrown into the sewers like a stray dog, eating moldy food and drinking foul water, living like a zombie.
Many times, Robert had imagined wrapping his body in dynamite and dying with Falcone.
Unfortunately, he lacked the courage. He was terrified of death; he preferred to live, even as a stray dog.
He smoked cigarette after cigarette, the smoke filling the room. Robert hid within the haze, like a viper waiting to strike.
To get revenge, he first needed money—lots of money. Three million was far from enough. Multiply that by ten, and it would be closer.
Thirty million dollars was no small sum!
"What should I do?"
Robert exhaled a puff of smoke, his eyes becoming clouded. A dangerous thought briefly surfaced in his mind, but he quickly dismissed it.
Luke Shaw had been good to him. Robert truly didn't want to betray him unless it was absolutely necessary.
Just as he was thinking, there was a loud knock on the door behind him.
Robert immediately snapped awake. He grabbed the handgun hidden under the sofa and cautiously looked at the door.
"Who is it? Who's knocking?"
"It's me, Warren Austin, your old friend."
Warren?
A figure came to mind—a former colleague and friend from his time at Wells Fargo. After Robert resigned to develop his career in Gotham, they had lost touch.
"How did you know I live here?"
"Can you open the door first? You can't expect me to talk to a steel door, can you?"
"Wait a minute."
Robert padded softly to the door and peered through the peephole. Seeing no one other than Warren, he unlatched the deadbolt and opened the door.
Warren opened his arms and smiled.
"Long time no see, old friend. How are you?"
Robert nodded blankly. He glanced outside and his face instantly changed when he spotted a man in a dark suit standing near the wall.
"Who is he?"
"Don't be nervous. We mean no harm."
Warren waved his hand, smiling, then gestured to the burly white man in the dark suit wearing gold-rimmed glasses.
"This is Thomas Elliot, the heir to the Elliot family. You've probably heard of him. He wants to talk business with you."
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