Catherine was slightly taken aback. His words poke her raw nerves.
She darted at Leslie, who wore an attentive smile and expected her to take the cup over. If she did, his effort to arrange the gathering wouldn’t be in vain.
Catherine liked vodka because of Ivan.
Staring at the liquor, she couldn’t help but recall the celestial-like man.
She breathed the air in the same city as him but seemed thousands of miles away from him.
“Take it,” Leslie repeated. “I can guarantee you’ll like it. It’ll not be wasted if a beauty takes it. I also trust your taste in liquor.”
Catherine had high taste in everything as she was wealthy.
She took the cup over, a familiar sharp pang rising in her heart. Last time, she drank vodka with Ivan as they celebrated signing a cooperation contract with a client.
It was rare as they were alone as Finnley left for something urgent.
The moonlight was beautiful, and the wind was gentle that night.
It was the past that she always missed but could never return.
At the entrance of Royal Nightclub, all the security guards and bodyguards stood in lines on alert.
After the Lamborghini with a limited edition was parked, two ushers rushed to open the door. “Good evening, Mr. Marsh,” they bowed at the man in the driver’s seat respectfully.
Ivan stepped out, and his black, handcrafted shirt wrapped his perfect body figure. Under the moonlight and in the wind, he looked stern.
As he strode into the lobby, all the bodyguards and security guards bowed at him respectfully. “Good evening, Mr. Marsh.”
Along with the chilly wind, Ivan entered Royal Nightclub.
“This way, please,” the lobby manager showed him the way.
The Marsh Group.
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