Eaton Ryder sat in silence for long minutes after his younger brother stormed off. He lifted his glass to his lips and then stopped, putting it back down to muffle a cough in a spotless white handkerchief with embroidery on the edges.
Despite the brutal rejection, Eaton's eyes sparkled, his brief moment of weakness seeming to never have existed at all.
Sending some disposable thugs to raise up dust on Mafia King Asher's turf, had been simply to remind them that the war was very much real, he hadn't been expecting to strike gold.
With every new information of Asher's perfomance, he seemed to regain more and more of his youthful vitality. Pale blue eyes tinged with a hint of mania, he folded his hands over his table, deep in thought.
Naturally, the simplest and most straightforward move would be the best to take. The Mafia King had never been a part of his plans before, but now he had been forced to reconsider.
