LUKE
Rebecca called me as soon as I received her email in the morning. I was busy with the expansion of Hotel B in Seoul, but she insisted that she had to speak to me. What she sent me was a film about the fucker, Raoul Velazquez.
“What are these?” I asked, scrolling through the email.
“That are the details about the club he owned. It’s called The Hightower Club. It’s an elite club. Most guests were VIPs, celebrities, and even politicians. It has a good reputation, surprisingly.”
“He’s not an ordinary man to run a club like this. I know this club. What else?”
“He’s a wealthy man, Luke. Hightower Club has a branch in London. It’s bigger than the one in Boston.”
I gritted through my teeth. This man was something. I scrolled to the next page. It was the list of his VIP guests in London.
