Sierra Sullivan was staring at them when a man stepped to the front of the crowd.
"I'm the director of this flour mill. My name is Winston Lowell."
The man was in his forties, and his refined manner of speaking fit Sierra Sullivan's stereotype of a successful man his age.
Winston Lowell's eyes swept over Sierra Sullivan and her team. "Who's in charge here?"
Sierra Sullivan didn't say a word.
Jayce remained silent as well.
Seeing that neither of them was speaking, Dominic Crawford had no choice but to step forward. "If you have something to say, you can start with me."
Winston Lowell looked Dominic Crawford up and down, his chin held high. "I just told you, I'm the director of this flour mill. You've taken so much flour from my factory. Don't you think that's inappropriate? Where are you from? Are you with the government? Is this an official requisition of supplies? If so, what's the deal? What kind of compensation will I be getting?"
A true businessman, indeed.
