Chapter 27. What He Wants

Ash’s POV

I don’t like wearing suits. As a matter of fact, I hate wearing them. Let me rephrase that… I fucking hate wearing suits.

It’s a messed up excuse to wear heavy clothes and feel and act rich. I don’t need to dress up in a suit to know I’m rich. I am rich, and nothing, not even wearing fifty suits a day, can make me feel richer than I already am. I’ll rather wear a pair of jeans and a tee and go around as unobtrusively as I can. It makes me blend in with the common men.

I like common. It’s good to look common so when I strike, no one will see it coming. They always never do.

I glance at the black pinstriped suit I have on and the cane in my hand. I don’t mind the cane, but that’s just another excuse to look rich. On second thoughts, I don’t look so bad; they make the tats on my hands and neck stand out.

Well, the suit is already on, and I won’t be taking it off till after the meeting… The one I’m having with the Russian.

I catch Moro’s eye