Chapter: 933

After watching Rachel call the elevator and leave after it arrived, the waiter took his phone out and sent a message.

There was a red Ferrari parked at the entrance of the club's parking lot. A cellphone on the passenger seat of the supercar suddenly vibrated.

Carson, who was in the driver's seat, looked over at the phone in surprise. He put the picture back in his pocket, picked the phone up, and unlocked it.

"Mr. Scott, I made Miss Bennet leave the banquet hall for the villa, as you ordered me to." The message was from the waiter.

Carson tapped the steering wheel rhythmically with his slender fingers as he read the message a few times. Then, he dialed a number.

After a few rings, the person Carson called answered the phone.

"What?" demanded the man on the other end of the line. He sounded irritable.

Carson raised his eyebrows slightly and joked, "Ah? Mr. Sullivan, what happened? Why are you so agitated?"

The joke didn't amuse Victor; it only made him frown. He walked to the small refrigerator, took out a bottle of cold water, and drank half of it in one sitting. The chilling rush helped calm his nerves.

"Say what you want to say quickly!" Victor growled.

The unpleasant tone made Carson suspect something was wrong.

“What's wrong? What happened?"

Victor sighed as his thirst returned.

“I'm fine," he replied, unwilling to continue the pointless conversation with Carson.

“Really?”

"Carson, if you have this much time on your hands, I don't mind recommending you to Ivan, who has been searching far and wide for someone to manage a project in Syria," Victor said, his patience wearing thin. The unyielding heat and discomfort he felt, which he suspected was a side-effect of the drug in his body, made him turn on the air conditioner and set it to the lowest temperature.

"Syria...' Carson's eyes widened in alarm. He didn't doubt the authenticity of Victor's words.

The unrest there was so great that even a careful person could lose their life in the blink of an eye. If merely surviving was a tall task, then undertaking a project was suicide, and no one was ready to risk their lives. However, Victor was different, and Carson, who knew him better than many, was certain he could travel there to develop projects.

Laughing rather nervously, Carson replied, "My goodness, Mr. Sullivan,

I have yet to make a woman mine, so how could I risk my life by going there? Okay, okay. You're just mistaking my goodwill for ill intent."

Victor didn't reply; he was at his wit's end. But before he could hang up the call, Carson spoke again.

“Well, don't blame me for not reminding you. I just saw Rachel."

Victor's thumb stopped an inch away from the red “end call" button on the phone's screen.

“What do you mean?"

Seeing that Victor's interest was piqued, Carson smiled complacently.