17 hope

Monica's eyes tracked each road down. Her eyes never left the sight of the black Toyota car which was following. She turned to face Julien and soon their car was parked at some backside of a backyard. Between two buildings it's a huge bungalow surrounded by two sizes of bodyguards and press media. Monica hated cameras and reporters who nudged themselves to get information of every detail a man or woman is working for. They question them on their own ability.

He peered out the window and hell, all the Italians, the Russians, even the fathers of the church came to the charity. Cabs honk, as they are parked into the parking lot and his eyes search for Monica's ability to move around with the cocktail dress she wore. It wasn't the quiet impression of a man to have his first woman stand out into a crowd of gentlemens who starve for blood, sweat, and tears. They enjoy the bodies of filthy animals to cry for mercy. She doesn't have to know the truth does she?

Before they can jump to the hote