Brian Bonette sat on one side of the circular conference table, wearing gold-rimd glasses, looking the very picture of respectability and handsoness.
Only those who had dealt with him knew whether the scholarly exterior truly matched a gentle and handso nature.
He had just taken off his glasses and set them on the table when soone rushed in, quickly slid up to his seat, and murmured to him in a low voice.
Two minutes later, the person slipped out as quietly as they had co in.
Brian Bonette dropped the relaxed and indolent air about him, rested his elbows on the leather chair, and with a headache-seeming expression, turned his head and said in a low voice to the man picking up his teacup, "There’s been a problem."
Amadeus Yancey was dressed formally today, in a white shirt covered with a silver-grey suit, the buttons done up precisely to the top, which should have conveyed a sense of nobility and restraint. However, none of that was suggested by his face, which exuded calamity; with beautifully upturned corners of his eyes, he looked both sexy and charming.
When Amadeus heard Brian speak to him in a subdued tone, he didn’t even move his eyebrows, the epito of lazy and indifferent. Leaning back in his chair, his gaze didn’t stray from the swirling tea, nonchalant to a fault: "Hmm? What’s happened?"
Brian was taken aback for a second.
He took a mont to collect himself from the spell Amadeus had cast, then smacked his lips.
A saying was passed around in Beijing, "Neither the skies nor the waters are a match for Mr. Yancey’s stunning beauty!"
With such noble deanor, no wonder such a saying existed in Beijing.
But now was not the ti for such thoughts; recalling the ssage he had just received, he spoke with a heavy head, "The programming in the USB flash drive that Nathalie Quinlan gave to Wallace Radcliff has a bug. It won’t work. Xavier Rabenstein can’t fix it either. The tech departnt said that Radcliff won’t be coming up later, they’re going to replace him with soone else... "
With Phoebe Hoffman grounded and Wallace Radcliff not showing up, he couldn’t imagine who could take Radcliff’s place. Soone from team one like Xavier Rabenstein?
Yet, in Amadeus’s mind, the image of another person erged, his eyes slightly squinted, the thin, red, glistening lips just parting to say two words, "Who’s coming?"
Suddenly, the conference room fell silent.
Everyone seed to be looking towards the door.
The girl hadn’t worn her duckbill cap today, but she was still in her favored hoodie. The black hoodie bore no extra designs, its simple style lending an air of unbridled and weary mystery to her appearance.
"Nathalie Quinlan?" When Brian saw who was entering, he paused for a second, disbelief in his voice, "How could it be her?"
Was Nathalie Quinlan the person Wallace Radcliff said would replace him?
It was ridiculous!
What was their tech departnt thinking?
Amadeus, as if sensing sothing, looked over towards the girl, t her gaze head-on – although it was only for a mont, he inexplicably felt in a good mood, the corners of his lips curling up as he half-squinted and protectively countered, "Why can’t it be her?"
Brian Bonette: ...
Why can’t it be her? Wasn’t the reason obvious?
He acknowledged that Nathalie Quinlan was remarkable, possessed a talent for programming beyond the norm, but the attendees this ti were authoritative experts from abroad. Autonomous driving technology was the highlight of this conference, and Wallace Radcliff and Phoebe Hoffman had at least been involved in the research throughout. Nathalie Quinlan only fixed so bugs in the source code. Having her replace Radcliff was no joke, was it?
Anyone from either team one or team two in the tech departnt would presumably be more suitable to stand here than Nathalie Quinlan.
Before Brian could air these thoughts, an international expert turned his head and asked with interest, "Your doctoral students at The Ninth Institute are this young?"
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