"Hmm," Nathan Moore responded softly, sipping his red wine and lazily reclining on the sofa, lost in his thoughts.
Placing the red wine on the coffee table before him, Nicholas Croft said, "Nathan, was I too cold-blooded three years ago when Sophie Foster caused such a big mess, I actually..." He cruelly thought about letting her learn a lesson.
Nathan Moore raised his eyebrows, looking at the wine in his hand, about to speak when the door to the private room was knocked from outside.
With a push, Beatrice Hargrave's figure stood in the doorway, a snow-colored knit sweater paired with jeans, her long hair tied in a ponytail, perhaps because she was meeting someone important, she had applied light makeup.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
