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.
Nathan Moore sat on the sofa, gently stroking Luke Xenos, his dark eyes squinting slightly.
This girl named Beatrice Hargrave, aside from her face, didn’t resemble Sophie Foster in the least.
Sophie Foster was a stereotypical non-conformist—in both her personality and singing style, completely different from Beatrice, like two extremes.
Sophie was lively and restless, with a bold personality, while Beatrice, at first glance, was the obedient type, exuding the air of a lady in every move she made.
Can there really be such strikingly similar people in the world?
Face, figure, height—almost no differences at all, even twins wouldn’t resemble each other this much.
If there was anything significantly different, it would be their voices. Sophie smoked, and her singing voice was hoarse and husky.
But Beatrice, with a voice that was clean, had beautiful vocal lines, almost without a single flaw.
Nicholas Croft had shown a video to Nathan Moore.
Beatrice sat down on a sofa to one side with the accompaniment of an assistant, her ladylike sitting posture displaying crossed legs tucked to one side and hands clasped together resting on her legs.
Her rosy lips curved into a slight arc, and glancing over at Nathan Moore, who was silently observing her all along, she asked curiously.
"Director Croft, this is..."
Nicholas too settled into the sofa and explained, "This is Director Moore, my good brother."
"Wow, birds of a feather flock together. Director Croft, such a handsome man, and even the brothers beside you are exceptional."
Beatrice’s childlike jest made both men curve their lips into a smile.
Perhaps it was concern that caused confusion, but Nicholas became sluggish in response after Beatrice entered the private room.
As for Nathan Moore, he merely nodded to Beatrice as a greeting, his dark eyes persistently watching her every move quietly.
Including the rounded right shoulder that peeked out from Beatrice’s scoop-neck knitted sweater.
Having attended Sophie Foster’s performances, a strapless leather mini-dress would reveal a tattoo on the right shoulder blade, quite evident. Beatrice’s shoulder, however, was clean and clear, at least the part exposed to the air showed no trace.
Nathan Moore sipped some red wine and continued his subtle observation.
Beatrice’s casual jest, if pondered carefully, would reveal a possible condescension—worrying that Nicholas Croft, the entertainment mogul, might be displeased, the assistant quickly clarified with a smile.
"Director Croft, Mimi meant no offense; she’s complimenting you and your friend for being so handsome."
"I know." Nicholas Croft’s lips curved slightly and thoughtfully had fresh juice delivered for Beatrice, pushing it in front of her, "Girls should all , shouldn’t they?"
In fact, quite the opposite, his Sophie always set herself apart, sneaking sips of his red wine and smoking his cigars.
"Thank you, Director Croft."