Romano's POV
While I was on my way to Paris in my private jet, I searched more on Mr. Toreto, desperately trying to figure out his vulnerability—what he lack—so that I could use that to persuade him to get what I wanted from him.
A small desk sat before me, holding a stack of documents, a pen, and a laptop. My hands moved swiftly on the keyboard, the frantic tapping a sound of my desperation in this moment.
Taking my hands from the keyboard, a frustrating sigh left my lips. I rested my head against the chair. I couldn't find anything on him. Not even a single helpful information.
I gritted my teeth in irritation, my hands knitting into fists, my knuckles almost turning to ashen from agitation.
I had to find something. At least something would do. Just something to hold on him, someth
