Chapter 313

Andrew, Natasha, and Dylan returned to West End with their respective entourages. Andrew declared, "Dylan, I don't believe I need to handle the remainder of Madam Vostokoff's business." The chaos he'd instigated was more than sufficient, and he had no intention of further meddling in the underworld.

Dylan nodded. "Mr. Lloyd, you've already done far more than enough for us. Madam Vostokoff and I can manage the rest without further troubling you."

Natasha chuckled. "Darling, you even managed to divide Atlas and Finley for us. Why not see this through? How about eliminating Atlas entirely?"

Andrew shook his head firmly. "You know my rules, Natasha. I've already done more than enough, far exceeding the value of that so-called medicinal herb you offered. Isn't it excessive to keep asking for more?"

Dylan quickly concurred. "Madam Vostokoff, Mr. Lloyd has gone above and beyond. Asking him for anything more would be not only against the rules but also make us appear shameless."

Natasha hummed playfully, yet her tone remained calculating. "Perhaps my request is excessive, but I didn't say I wouldn't compensate you further, darling."

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "You have more medicinal herbs?"

Natasha shook her head, giving him a sly look. "Not herbs, but don't you think I'm more valuable than some plant?"

Andrew frowned. "Madam Vostokoff, I have no interest in you personally." If Natasha could produce something genuinely tempting, Andrew wouldn't mind assisting further. But if she thought she could take advantage of him, she would find him less accommodating.

Natasha clenched her teeth. "Darling, are you seriously saying my value doesn't even match a single herb?"

Andrew replied honestly, "At least for me, that's the case."

Natasha took a deep breath, visibly controlling herself. "Fine. Mark my words, Andrew—I will ensure you bow to me one day." Her anger and determination were evident, fueled by frustration and a growing desire to win him over.

Andrew rose and departed. "Madam Vostokoff, don't forget the medicinal herb you owe me. I expect it soon."

After Andrew's departure, escorted by his men, Dylan shook his head with a wry smile. "Madam Vostokoff, you've spent enough time with Mr. Lloyd to understand his personality. Trying to strong-arm him won't work—it's futile, and you'll only lose."

Natasha slammed her hand on the table, her temper flaring. "Dylan, shut your mouth! Haven't you noticed how patient and accommodating I've been with him? Any other man would have been punished by now for disrespecting me!"

Dylan blinked, startled by her intensity, and said cautiously, "Madam Vostokoff… you're not seriously falling for Mr. Lloyd, are you?"

Natasha let out a cold laugh. "Falling for him? Not quite. But someone like him—I have to bring him under West End's control."

Dylan shrugged. "You're stubborn and relentless, so I won't argue. But if you think you can win over Mr. Lloyd, you might want to reconsider that plan."

Natasha narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean? You think I'm incapable of handling Andrew?"

Dylan leaned back and spoke evenly. "Even I've never dared to dream of making Mr. Lloyd work for South City. If anything, it's South City shamelessly clinging to him, hoping he'd take us under his wing."

He continued, "Madam Vostokoff, let me warn you—you might want to abandon this idea of using him. Your West End is far too small to contain someone like Andrew."

Natasha seemed uncertain for a moment. "Are you saying Andrew's background is more significant than he lets on?"

Dylan shook his head. "I don't know much, and I wouldn't speculate. But trust me, messing with Mr. Lloyd is a dangerous game, one you might not survive."

Natasha scoffed. "Please, who are you trying to scare? I've been in this business for years, Dylan. I've seen it all—there's no 'big situation' that could shake me."