Chapter 273
Chapter 273
Westenmar.
The moment Stewart and Carl stepped out of the airport, they were greeted by Larson and a handful of men in
black suits.
“Mr. Wentworth, Mr. Ferguson would like to see you,” Larson announced.
Everyone who had ever dealt with Garry Ferguson knew that Larson was his right–hand man.
Once involved in the underworld, Larson owed Garry his life–a debt that made his loyalty absolute.
Stewart fixed Larson with a cold stare. “Where’s Rosita?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Wentworth, I can’t disclose that.” Larson gestured politely toward the waiting car, his tone respectful. “If you have questions, perhaps you could ask Mr. Ferguson in person.”
In Westenmar, Garry Ferguson could protect anyone he wished–effortlessly.
Without another word, Stewart climbed into the car.
Half an hour later, the car pulled up in front of a towering office building.
Larson got out, motioning for Stewart to follow him inside.
Carl moved to go with them, but the men in black blocked his path.
“You’ll wait here,” one of them said.
Carl glanced at the group. Muscle, plain and simple.
In Westenmar–a country where business and politics were hopelessly intertwined–Garry Ferguson wielded power with ease.
Carl knew better than to argue. He waited.
The building belonged to Garry–one of his many properties.
Larson led Stewart up to the twenty–eighth floor.
The entire floor was a private club.
They passed through a long corridor, finally stopping outside the last door.
Garry was inside.
Larson knocked, waited a beat, then opened the door.
“Mr. Ferguson, Mr. Wentworth is here,” Larson said, bowing slightly.
“Let him in.”
Larson stepped aside and gestured for Stewart to enter. “Mr. Wentworth, please.”
Stone–faced, Stewart brushed past Larson and entered.
Inside, Garry lounged on a sofa, one arm draped around a blonde bombshell, the other holding a cigar. He looked up with casual indifference. “Come on, Attorney Wentworth, make yourself at home. Have a seat.” Stewart’s expression remained icy as he crossed the room and dropped onto the sofa opposite Garry. Leaning back, Stewart took out a pack of Cigarettes, lit one, and exhaled a slow, steady stream of smoke. “Cut to the chase, Garry. What will it take for you to hand over Rosita?”
Garry grinned around his cigar, eyes narrowing. “That’s a tough question to start with, don’t you think? Drink?
15:07
Chapter 273
Whiskey, vodka, wine?”
Stewart clearly didn’t have the patience for small talk.
“I want Rosita, Garry.” His gaze was like ice. “Keeping her does you no favors.”
Garry raised an eyebrow. “You want her for revenge? For your wife and kid?”
Stewart’s dark brows drew together. “That’s none of your concern.”
“I’m not handing over Rosita.” Garry released the blonde from his arm. “Give us a minute, darling.”
The woman stood and slipped out, reading the room perfectly.
Garry exhaled a cloud of smoke. “So, Stewart, are you really planning to break your promise to Randolph for the sake of your wife and child?”
Stewart’s face darkened.
He said nothing.
Garry let out a low chuckle, needling him. “Looks like your own wife matters more than anyone else’s, huh? You want payback from Rosita–but aren’t you afraid Randolph will never rest in peace if you do?”
Stewart crushed his cigarette into the ashtray, his chiseled features shadowed, eyes drilling into Garry. “Don’t try to guilt me. This is between me and Rosita. She made her choices–she can face the consequences.” “Oh?” Garry stubbed out his cigar. “Must say, you’re awfully protective of your so–called ‘contract wife‘ Briony. Or is it something more? Maybe you love her–just haven’t admitted it yet?”
At that, Stewart faltered, caught off guard.
Garry smirked, relishing the moment. “You’re going to fall for Briony sooner or later, Stewart. You talk about Rosita’s mistakes, but I think the one who keeps screwing up and doesn’t even know it–is you.”
“I really can’t wait for the day you regret all this.”
“Enough.” Stewart’s voice was ice. “What will it take for you to hand over Rosita?”
Garry just shook his head. “It’s not happening, Stewart. Give it up.”
“You really think just because you’re overseas, I can’t touch you?” Stewart’s patience had run out. “Rosita’s a living, breathing person. You think you can hide her forever?”
Garry shrugged, swirling his glass of whiskey. “I know you’re capable. And I know I can’t protect Rosita forever. So, how about we make a deal?”
V
