Chapter 2698: Techniques for Pleasing Men

All day long, Sylvan Cheney felt as if his head were splitting, and it was anything but pleasant.

In the afternoon, he slept for a little over half an hour. He had just started to drift off when the phone jolted him awake in a daze.

One hand braced against his forehead, he picked up the phone with the other. "Yeah."

"President, the photos you asked for have been sent to your phone."

"Mm." Sylvan woke up a bit more. "That fisherman—has he been sent back to Landon?"

"He’s already been sent back. No one knows about it. During this period I’ll have people keep an eye on him. But ever since that night he was scared out of his wits, fell seriously ill, and he’s still bedridden."

"So easily frightened." Sylvan’s lips curved with a faint, indifferent smile.

The person on the other end gave an awkward chuckle. Faced with that kind of thing, pretty much no one could stay calm, and Sylvan wasn’t exactly the type whose looks put people at ease.

"President, do you have any other instructions?"

"Not for now. Keep the line open." Sylvan said flatly.

"All right."

After hanging up, Sylvan drowsily unlocked his phone and opened his email. One photo after another popped up on the screen.

They were all pictures of Kieran Janus vacationing on Phaket Island. Judging from the photos, Kieran was having a hell of a time—especially at night, when he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

There was a high-end club on Phaket Island. From the outside it looked no different from other luxury clubs, but inside it was divided into several tiers. The top tier catered exclusively to the super-rich, and its specialty was women.

All kinds of women—only what you can’t think of, not what you can’t find.

There were even girls of seven or eight years old.

The women there all knew exactly how to please men. They’d been taught from a young age all sorts of tricks to satisfy them. Most of the men who came blew money like water, all for the sake of pleasure.

There was a very famous dance there called "Song of Spring Snow." The stage was like a fountain pool, and clusters of naked young women stood in the water dancing. The scene was rippling with sensuality, and not one of them wore a stitch.

The spy had sent Sylvan all kinds of photos, but what they had in common was that the lead in every shot was Kieran Janus.

Every photo was highly suggestive, the content explicit.

Sylvan let out a derisive snort, the corner of his mouth hooking up as he flipped through them one by one.

There were plenty of naked women in the photos, but Sylvan felt little interest. Those Gold Digger dens held no appeal for him.

That kind of booze-and-flesh extravagance—he hadn’t sunk to that level of depravity yet.

Sometimes, when negotiating with clients, they would more or less openly try to take him to those places, or send a few women his way. He was never interested.

If it wasn’t to his taste, he didn’t even want to touch it.

It might also be that he was just too exhausted from work. Even looking at such steamy photos, he couldn’t summon the slightest interest.

Sylvan flipped through the pictures absently. His drowsiness was gone, but his head was still throbbing faintly.

He tossed the phone aside, took out a box of pills, and swallowed one.

The weather in Old York was actually pretty good today, bright and sunny. Light like scattered gold fell on the gray curtains, reflecting a serene, gentle tone.

Sylvan no longer felt like napping. He simply opened the file in front of him and started going through it page by page.

There were no meetings that afternoon, no social engagements either. He just shut his office door and sat inside in silence the whole afternoon.

The office quickly filled with the smell of cigarette smoke. He’d been smoking heavily lately—sometimes going through an entire pack in one go.

The doctor had warned him time and again, but he saw no need to listen and didn’t take it to heart.