"Let me go." Eva Nightingale took a step back, warily eyeing the men. "Don't touch me."
She knew the bar was chaotic, and people could get reckless when drunk, but she didn't expect them to be so bold.
She couldn't hold back her anger any longer: "Get lost!"
"Oh, didn't expect such a fiery one. No problem, big bro likes them fiery—"
The men grabbed Eva forcefully and pushed her onto the booth's sofa, ready to press against her.
…
A black Rolls-Royce Phantom came to a steady stop at the bar's entrance. A handsome man, exuding a chilling aura, walked swiftly towards the bar.
Two rows of men in black followed him respectfully.
"President..." After all, their master's identity was not ordinary; if anything happened at this bar in the middle of the night, it wouldn't be good.
"Don't follow me." The man interrupted them coldly without turning back, walking into the bar.
Perhaps it was because she was pregnant, with a big belly, that he felt so uneasy?
