Chapter 136: What makes you think I care about your word?
Meanwhile, inside one of Crimson Crest’s private VIP lounges, Thomas entered alongside Paul, the man who had arranged the meeting.
However, the moment Thomas stepped inside, he froze.
The scene before him was enough to make him avert his eyes.
Marco, Karlo Morritte’s right-hand man, was locked in a heated kiss with a woman, completely oblivious to the several men standing around the room. It wasn’t merely a kiss—it was possessive, almost as though he intended to devour her.
Thomas immediately looked away.
He might have been a drunkard and a deadbeat father, but even he found the display shameless.
Without warning, Marco suddenly broke the kiss.
"Busted."
The woman blinked in confusion.
"What are you—"
Before she could finish, Marco’s hand slipped between them and emerged holding a small pistol.
The room fell silent.
He pressed the cold barrel against her temple.
The woman’s face drained of color.
"W-What are you doing?" she stammered, her voice trembling.
Marco grabbed her by the throat, his expression turning ice-cold.
"Do you know what I hate the most?"
His grip tightened.
"People who think they’re smarter than me."
The woman gasped for air.
"I-I don’t understand..."
"No?"
Marco smiled without the slightest warmth.
"Then let me explain."
He pulled a tiny recording device from beneath the edge of her dress and held it up for everyone to see.
"You came here wearing a wire."
The woman’s eyes widened in terror.
"I... I didn’t—"
"You should’ve chosen a better employer."
His finger rested lightly on the trigger.
For a brief moment, everyone thought he was about to shoot her.
Instead, Marco lowered the gun and shoved her toward two guards.
"Take her away."
His voice was frighteningly calm.
"And make sure her body is delivered to the person who sent her."
"Yes, Boss."
The guards seized the struggling woman by both arms.
"No!"
She cried desperately.
"Please! I swear I’m innocent!"
Marco didn’t even spare her another glance.
"Wait! Please! Don’t do this!"
Her screams echoed through the hallway until the heavy door shut behind her.
Silence filled the room.
Thomas instinctively swallowed.
He had heard countless rumors about Marco’s ruthlessness.
People said he was every bit as terrifying as Karlo Morritte himself.
But hearing stories and witnessing it with his own eyes were two completely different things.
Marco casually tossed the pistol onto the table.
One of the guards immediately stepped forward, picked it up, and silently retreated.
Only then did Marco finally notice the two visitors still standing by the entrance.
"Paul."
He leaned back lazily on the couch, stretching one arm across the backrest while crossing one leg over the other.
"What brings you here?"
Paul stepped forward respectfully.
"I’ve brought someone who wants to do business with us."
Marco’s gaze shifted toward Thomas.
"We have a guest, huh?"
Thomas felt a chill crawl down his spine.
He had dealt with dangerous people before.
Loan sharks. Gangsters. Smugglers.
But standing before Marco made all of them seem insignificant.
Still, he forced himself to remain calm.
Marco gestured lazily toward the couch opposite him.
"Sit."
Paul sat down comfortably as though he had done this countless times before.
Thomas, however, lowered himself onto the seat stiffly, unable to hide how out of place he felt.
"Boss," Paul began, "this man is interested in purchasing our latest product."
Marco raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"He’s willing to pay whatever price you ask."
Marco glanced at Thomas from head to toe before letting out a mocking laugh.
"You expect me to believe this beggar can afford our merchandise?"
His gaze lingered on Thomas’s wrinkled clothes, unshaven face, and the unmistakable smell of alcohol clinging to him.
"You reek of cheap liquor."
His expression twisted with disgust.
"Don’t waste my time, Paul."
He waved his hand dismissively.
"Throw this piece of trash out."
Just as the guards took a step forward—
"Name your price."
Thomas’s steady voice stopped everyone.
The room fell silent.
Marco slowly looked back at him.
Thomas met his gaze without flinching.
"I’m ready to pay."
He spoke firmly.
"Whatever your price is... name it."
Marco let out a humorless chuckle.
For a moment, he assumed the man was bluffing.
But Thomas didn’t look away.
The confidence in his eyes never wavered.
The amusement on Marco’s face gradually disappeared.
"Hmph."
He leaned forward, studying Thomas much more carefully than before.
"Seems that saying is true after all."
He rested his elbows on his knees.
"Never judge a book by its cover."
Thomas remained silent.
This meeting was his only chance.
If he failed to secure the deal...the person who had hired him would never let him walk away alive.
Marco rested his chin lightly against his clasped hands, his sharp gaze never leaving Thomas.
The room was silent once again.
Even the guards remained perfectly still, waiting for their boss to speak.
After what felt like an eternity, Marco finally broke the silence.
"So..."
He tapped a finger lazily against the armrest.
"What exactly do you want from us?"
Thomas hesitated for a brief second before answering.
"I need your latest shipment."
Marco’s expression remained unreadable.
"For personal use?"
"No."
Thomas shook his head.
"I’ve been hired to acquire it for someone else."
Marco let out a faint chuckle.
"Interesting."
He leaned back comfortably.
"And who is this mysterious buyer?"
Thomas immediately stiffened.
"I can’t tell you."
The smile on Marco’s face slowly disappeared.
"You can’t..."
He repeated the words softly.
"...or you won’t?"
"The client requested complete confidentiality."
Marco’s fingers drummed rhythmically against the leather sofa.
"Confidentiality?"
He smirked.
"You’re standing inside Crimson Crest asking to buy merchandise worth millions, yet you refuse to tell me who’s paying."
Thomas swallowed.
"I gave my word."
Marco’s eyes narrowed.
"And what makes you think I care about your word?"
"..."
Paul, who had been watching quietly until now, finally spoke.
"Boss, I’ve worked with him before."
Marco glanced at him.
"He always delivers."
"He may look like a drunk," Paul continued honestly, "but when money is involved, he keeps his promises."
Marco didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he stood from the couch and slowly walked toward Thomas.
Each step echoed through the quiet lounge.
Thomas instinctively straightened his back.
Marco stopped directly in front of him.
"So..."
He bent down slightly until they were almost eye level.
"Tell me."
"What makes you believe I’ll trust a man who smells like a liquor store?"