Asher Ross had just finished speaking when he suddenly let out a scream.
Hope Williams turned her head at the sound and saw Asher Ross spit out a blood-stained poker chip from his mouth.
The woman next to him screamed, "Master Ross, are you okay? Who? Who did this?"
Waylon Lewis withdrew his hand, pulling Hope Williams to his side. His handsome face remained expressionless, yet the unfathomable depth of his eyes clearly revealed his anger at the moment.
"If you can't speak properly—shut up."
Asher Ross was truly enraged this time, slamming his palm heavily on the table with a loud thud. "Waylon Lewis, this is my territory! Who the hell gave you the guts to act this way?"
His words had barely left his mouth when the black-clad guards who had been standing at the ready stepped forward simultaneously.
The guests gathered around, sensing a fight about to break out, were startled and anxious.
