The door of the private room was gently knocked a few times, and as it opened, a well-proportioned figure appeared at the entrance.
"Director Croft, sorry to keep you waiting." Standing outside the private room, Beatrice Hargrave was clad in a simple yet neat snow-colored knitted sweater paired with jeans.
Especially that lightly made-up face, with a smile so clear and untainted by a speck of dust.
Nicholas Croft lifted his head and stared at the clean figure in front of him without speaking or moving.
It was Nathan Moore who quietly coughed behind his hand to regain his senses. Nicholas responded with a slight curve of his lips, stood up politely with a stretch of his long arms, both courteous and gentlemanly.
"Miss Hargrave, please come in. A beautiful girl always has the right to keep a man waiting."
"Hehe... Director Croft sure knows how to talk." Beatrice walked into the private room, her every word and action exuding the genuine and uncontrived essence of a young girl.
