It turns out that nightclubs look the sa whether you’re abroad or at ho.
Raucous heavy tal music, sensuous lead dancers, and the wealthy young masters drinking toasts with beautiful girls.
Little Savage headed straight for the bar and saw a woman holding a red cocktail of so unknown na. She also ordered one, then sat on a high stool, only for a man to co over and start chatting her up.
"You’re not from around here?"
Little Savage hesitated for a mont, then smiled and nodded, "Yes." Claiming to be a local seed safer.
"How co I’ve never seen you before?" The man feigned thought and frowned, while the bartender had already prepared the cocktail. Little Savage picked up the small glass, took a sip, and laughed it off, "First ti here, new face."
"Oh?" The man raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a slight smirk. He was about to speak when a group of people entered the nightclub, surrounding a girl.
That girl had a pure look, of average height with an impressive presence since she was followed by a crowd of idiotic fans holding her pictures high and chanting non-stop.
"Beatrice, Beatrice!"
"A celebrity?" Little Savage, holding her drink, motioned towards the door, not too familiar with dostic stars due to living abroad for years.
The man followed her gaze, "Yeah, she’s a newcor who made it out of ’New Voice Generation’. She’s quite popular lately."
Little Savage wasn’t familiar with ’New Voice Generation’ or ’Old Voice Generation’, nor was she interested in knowing. She responded perfunctorily with a ’hmm’ and saw the girl stop, say sothing to her fans, blow them a kiss, and then walk towards an interior private room flanked by several staff mbers.
In that private room, Nicholas Croft was in a black suit, traditional yet fashionable.
Seated across from him, Nathan Moore was in a rare casual attire. He wore a dark pair of well-tailored trousers paired with a white shirt, the collar opened to reveal a small portion of his sculpted chest. He leaned back in the sofa with a languid pose.
"Nathan, later help confirm if that’s Sophie," Nicholas said, his gaze lowered, rotating the cylindrical glass in his hands unconsciously, his expression slightly tense.
"Hmm," Nathan’s gaze settled on the raised glass in his hand, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if pondering sothing.
This afternoon, his assistant and the departnt manager signed a cooperation agreent with a company that had taken the initiative to contact them. He had not even dealt with them before.
It might have been a coincidence, but the offer from this company was neither more nor less, just slightly below that of Tang’s by a decimal point. Moreover, the proposal was roughly similar.
Nathan always felt that things couldn’t be such a coincidence, but he couldn’t figure out the reason behind it.
Nicholas placed the glass on the coffee table in front of him, his hands on his knees as he looked straight ahead.
"Do you think I was too cold three years ago? Sophie caused such a big ss, and I actually..."
Speaking of three years ago, Nicholas couldn’t say if he felt regret or frustration at unreached expectations.
Sophie Foster had actually left a rich second-generation disabled in a nightclub incident, nearly costing him his life.
Back then, Nicholas was also furious. When Sophie was helpless and needed him the most, he coldly said, "This ti, don’t expect to clean up your ss!"
From that point on, he never saw Sophie Foster again. Because... she disappeared without a trace, as if evaporated.
It was also half a year ago that Star Entertainnt and a TV station co-hosted a singing competition. When that girl with the innocent looks, whose face didn’t need any make-up even on cara, appeared on the screen, Nicholas thought with just one glance that this girl nad Beatrice Hargrave was his Sophie!
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