In just a few minutes, Finley and his men had completely wiped out every dish on the table. All that was left were scraps and cold broth—not even a bite worth eating.

'Had these guys not eaten in months?' Irene cursed them in her head, though she forced a polite smile.

On the other hand, Christina had not touched her utensils. She could not stand any of them except for Finley, and even he was not much better.

One look at the rest of the Hidden Dragons, and it was obvious—they were nothing but brainless thugs, leering at her with disgusting eyes.

Leroy let out an awkward laugh. "Mr. Moore, if the food wasn't enough, I'll have the housekeepers whip up some more. Come on, let's drink instead! Tonight, we're drinking until we drop!"

Finley smirked. "My boys measure their alcohol in barrels, not glasses. You're Christina's little brother, right? I'd hate to see you end up in the hospital."

Leroy was desperate to get on Finley's good side, so there was no way he would back down.