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Instead of seeking solitude in the cottage, I find myself gravitating more and more toward Grace.
Enzo: Jesus, Varga. That island better be made of gold. Leo: It says the island is untouched. Where the fuck is this meeting taking place? Between the fucking trees? Ilias: I’ll be there. I type out a quick reply. Dominik: Noon on Tuesday. We can discuss building a facility then. Bring your own chair, or your ass is sitting on the ground.
“Interrupt me again when I’m talking to my wife, and I’ll fucking kill you,” Dominik growls angrily before heading down the stairs.
