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Chapter 691
Chapter 691:
And he had never failed a single mission.
Staring at the phone screen, Talia’s gaze deepened into a bottomless gloom.
Annabel, you’re doomed, she thought. Taking a slow breath, she dialed Dominik’s number.
“Hello, it’s me, Talia,” she said.
“Talia? You still remember me.” A man’s cold, hoarse voice came from the other end of the line.
“Dominik, I need a favor.” Talia tightened her grip on the phone, a flash of sinister madness crossing her eyes.
“A favor? No problem at all. As long as it’s for you, I’ll do anything, Talia,” Dominik replied.
“Thank you.” Talia’s lips curled into a smug smile.
She was certain Dominik could easily kill the bitch she hated most—Annabel.
“But I want to see you first,” Dominik added, an ugly amusement in his tone.
“Fine,” Talia said through clenched teeth.
She headed to the nightclub using the address Dominik gave her.
Neon lights pulsed with a garish, sinful glow around a gold-painted iron door. Above it, four words were written in bold red letters: “And Red Club.” Men in expensive suits drifted in and out, and women wore tight, revealing dresses.
Talia frowned, reluctant to step inside.
This kind of place didn’t match her identity.
But her hatred for Annabel made her swallow her discomfort.
With a quiet sigh, she forced herself forward and walked in.
The moment she entered, a man in a black suit—clearly a bodyguard—approached her. “Are you Miss Clifford p>
“Yes,” Talia replied coolly, displeasure flickering as she caught his appraising stare.
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“Our boss asked us to escort you to him. Please, follow me p>
After that, the bodyguard led her upstairs to a room in the penthouse.
When Talia pushed the door open, she saw a man sitting on the sofa. A fearsome scar cut across his face, and a cold, murderous aura seemed to cling to him like a shadow.
It was Dominik.
Dominik shot his bodyguard a look. The man nodded and slipped out, closing the door behind him.
Now, only Talia and Dominik remained.
Dominik studied Talia from head to toe, desire completely unmasked in his eyes. The stare made her skin crawl, but she forced herself to ignore it, walked over, and sat on the sofa.
“So, Dominik. Here I am p>
“I suppose you want me to kill Annabel, don’t you?” Dominik’s voice was deep and rough.
He was thin—almost wiry—and looked deceptively slender. He wore a high-end suit, but it couldn’t conceal the violence in his posture, the hard edge that clung to him no matter how polished his clothes were.