“Yeah, I’m also a yogi.”
I chuckle. “All right, yogi. Here are the details.”
I brief Carter about our plans. I still don’t know exactly why I trust him. Maybe he is right, and he can help, after all. He’s connected, he’s proved to be skillful, and to top it all off, he did warn me about the storm coming our way.
We’ll see. It doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind about killing him.
Chapter Thirty
BRUNO
I step out of my Lamborghini Veneno, one of the most expensive cars in the world. I’m not driving it out of chance; I picked it up on purpose. I’m supposed to be observed as a man of certain wealth, and a car that is worth four and a half million dollars might get me that status.
The valet gazes at it in awe.
“Take care of her,” I say to him and wink.
Right now, I’m at one of the most exclusive restaurants of Saudi Arabia to meet Keled, Razzar’s son. He picked the spot personally. This must be where he puts people to a test to see if they are worthy of being invited to one of his father’s events.
“I’m here to see Mr. Keled,” I tell the host.
“Right this way sir,” he replies immediately and signals for me to follow him.
He takes me to the farthest table from the entrance and leaves. Keled is not here yet.
The entire place screams class. It is filled with gold and shiny gold-colored décor like you’d expect from a place of this caliber in Arabia. It’s impressive, really, maybe not for a man like Bruno, but today I’m not Bruno. No. Today I’m Miles Cox, American magnate. My affairs are private but yield billions of dollars, and that’s all that matters. Not a flashy man, although sometimes I indulge myself, which explains the Lambo – cocky and most of all, logic driven.
That’s who I’m playing today, and I’m sticking to it. Or should I say…him?
“Mr. Cox,” a much-younger man than me says as he seats himself right across from me. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I do apologize for my tardiness.” He sounds sincere.
He is clearly of Arab stock with a certain extravagant beauty, small nose and eyes greener than mine. A clean and maintained goatee. His suit coat looks fresh from the dry cleaner. He dresses sharp, just like me.
“Nonsense, I just got here, the chair is still cold. The pleasure is mine,” I reply with a fake smile, straight posture and my chin up, showing him I feel superior in every way and that I won’t allow any mortal to come too close unless I want to.
“I hope you can overlook the state of my English, it is a little… what’s the word.” He waves his hand in circles, looking for a word in his head.
“Rusty?” I suggest.
“That’s it,rusty.I need to practice a little bit.” A rehearsed smile spreads on his face.
I'm sure many consider it sexy.
“Your English is outstanding, if you ask me.” His English really is excellent, but he needs me to give a compliment. That’s the kind of person he is.
I raise my hand without taking my eyes off of him, but the server doesn’t show up.
“No one will approach this table unless I summon them,” he asserts. His expression is hard and unreadable. Without blinking, he adds, “Let’s talk business.”
“Straight to the point, I like it.”
“I understand you want to do business with my father, Mr. Cox.”
“Correct,” I reply, wiping an imaginary lint from my Armani pants.
“What specifically?” He sits back in the chair, his right arm resting on the backrest. He feels comfortable. He also feels big. He should, though. He owns the place.
“I’m in the market looking for someone who would cover certain… needs. I hope you can help me with this,” I say, without hesitation, like this isn’t immoral or inhuman.
