Stella Sterling felt a little uncomfortable with the commotion.
She was just about to ask the waiter to tell them to keep it down when the group next to them suddenly fell silent.
In unison, they called out, "Sheffield."
Stella peeked over the top of the sofa.
The man called Sheffield was exceptionally tall, dressed in a shiny, ink-colored velvet shirt and black suit pants. He even had a pair of dark sunglasses perched on his face.
His features were indistinct and his aura was hard to read, making him look like a mob boss out on the town.
The group of men next to them all rose to their feet to greet him.
Judging by the scene, he didn't seem like a good person.
Stella pulled her head back and didn't look again.
'This bar is too chaotic. I'm not coming back.'
At the next table, after Sheffield arrived, the group's voices naturally quieted down considerably.
A moment later, someone was heard asking, "Sheffield, how come you didn't bring your woman with you?"
