Hearing the words "emergency sweep," Chairman Moore's eye twitched furiously.
He glared at the pinned security guards and let out a cold laugh. "Tournament protocol?"
His tone was absolutely lethal. "You bring an armed squad into my Seven-Star Hotel and attempt to violently breach my penthouse suite?"
"Is the Organizing Committee openly questioning my family? Are you questioning the security and management capabilities of the Skyline Group?!"
The accusation was monumental.
Cold sweat poured down Voss's back.
He didn't have a death wish; offending a top-tier billionaire like Chairman Moore was professional suicide.
"No, no, no, Chairman Moore, you've completely misunderstood!" Voss waved his hands frantically, desperate to clear his name. "We would never question the Skyline Group."
"It's just... we received a very specific anonymous tip regarding the Elyndorian competitor, Serena Lancaster..."
"A tip about Serena Lancaster?" Moore cut him off, his voice chilling to the bone. "From reception to security, from housekeeping to catering, every single protocol at the Skyline Hotel has been audited and explicitly approved by the highest levels of your Organizing Committee."
"And now you're telling me someone anonymously reported that an Elyndorian competitor is hoarding neural-stimulants in my hotel. Are you implying that I, Frederick Moore, am negligent?"
"Are you accusing me of harboring competitors and turning a blind eye to contraband?"
Voss was left completely speechless, his face turning an unhealthy shade of green.
His lips moved, but he couldn't form a single coherent sentence.
In a panic, he shot a desperate, pleading look at Phelps, who was hiding near the back.
VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Messing With Her? Are You Crazy!