Chapter 575
Lauren raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Who else? You’re not seriously going to ask Mr. Thatcher for money, are you, Dr. Lloyd?”
Andrew grinned and gestured toward the corner where Finley sat sulking. “Not Mr. Thatcher. It’s our good friend, Mr. Moore. His uncle’s the leader of Hidden Dragons, so he’s got deep pockets.”
The mention of Finley made Lauren and Francesca’s eyes sparkle with anticipation. If anyone was perfect for fleecing, it was that unlucky fool. With playful determination, the two women followed Andrew, their heels clicking with purpose as they headed straight for Finley.
Finley was busy drowning his sorrows in liquor when he noticed someone standing beside him. He frowned in irritation. “What now? Can’t a guy drink in peace? Beat it!”
Andrew chuckled softly. “Drink all you want, Mr. Moore, but how about paying your tab first?”
Finley froze for a moment before his face twisted in disbelief. He looked up and saw Andrew standing there, smiling casually. His eyes widened in shock. ‘Andrew? How the hell did you sneak up on me?’
The men at Finley’s table tensed, their expressions wary as they watched Andrew closely. Andrew did not bother to acknowledge them.
He kept his focus on Finley and continued in a friendly tone “Mr. Moore, you’ve been enjoying yourself—drinking, eating, even leaving bones all over the table. But you see, all of this costs money. So how about contributing to the occasion?”
Finley’s face darkened immediately. He slammed his glass down in frustration. “Are you serious, Andrew? I had a couple of drinks and some food, and now you’re shaking me down like I owe you something?”
He could not believe it. Never in his life had he seen a host openly ask a guest for money like this. It was humiliating, and in his eyes, completely beneath someone of Andrew’s status.
Andrew kept his smile intact. “Small business, Mr. Moore. You know how it is. Surely, you wouldn’t want to come across as stingy, right? And with your Hidden Dragons connections, I’m sure you’re not strapped for cash.”
The jab hit its mark, and Finley bristled. “Are you calling me cheap?” he snapped, clenching his jaw. He reached into his pocket and yanked out a wad of cash.
Slapping it down on the table, he sneered, “There! That’s 1500 bucks. Take it and get out of my face!”
Andrew calmly picked up the cash and handed it to Francesca, who beamed as she counted it. “Hmm, 15 bills. Exactly 1500 dollars,” she confirmed cheerfully.
Finley scoffed, crossing his arms. “That’s more than enough for this cheap spread. Outside, this wouldn’t cost more than 600 dollars. Consider that extra 900 a favor.”
Andrew shook his head, feigning disappointment. “Still not enough, Mr. Moore. Honestly, it’s pretty embarrassing.”
Finley’s eye twitched as he crossed his arms. “Excuse me? 1500 dollars isn’t enough?”
“Of course not,” Andrew replied, his expression serious. “Given your standing, that’s pocket change. It’s not about the food—it’s about your reputation. Imagine word getting back to your uncle that you showed up to a celebration and barely contributed. Do you really want to embarrass him like that?”
Finley’s face turned red with fury. He laughed bitterly and leaned forward. “Wow. You’ve got no shame, Andrew. You’ll pull any trick just to squeeze a few more bucks out of people, huh?”