The next day.
"The door is shut, sir. Seems she's got an off."
The driver of the black limousine called at well-built man with well shaped face seated at the back. Twas Max.
The glass of the door by which he was seated was unwind for a clearer view of what the driver had said.
"I don't think we came too early. Or did we?"
Max asked not sure to whom he had directed the question. His face was still glued to the locked door of the studio.
There were lots of things to owed that too. Given by what happened between himself and Dia the other day.
He opened the door of the limo and stepped out. His Italian shoe warming the bitumen. He was greeted by the bellowing breeze. His grey suit could counter the coziness.
"I got this. Go on."
He ordered the
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