"Big bro, what do you mean?" Nathan Moore’s casual words made Felix Shaw glance over cautiously.
"It means nothing," Nathan Moore sorted his mahjong tiles nonchalantly, "Our company and the Foster Family have trading relations, tomorrow the heads of both companies need to meet in person to discuss..."
Before Nathan Moore could finish, Felix Shaw chickened out, clasping his hands and bowing to Nathan Moore.
"Big bro, please, spare your brother and don’t mention Elizabeth White in front of that woman, otherwise she has a hundred ways to take out Elizabeth."
Nathan Moore slightly lifted his gaze.
"I won’t gossip anymore, I won’t gossip, isn’t that enough?" Felix Shaw promised. Seeing Nathan Moore not reacting, he raised his hand and slapped his own mouth.
"That’s for running your mouth, for running your mouth!"
"Being your big brother, I am quite magnanimous. Slap yourself twice more and you’re forgiven," Nathan Moore stated indifferently, almost making Felix Shaw cough up blood in frustration.
But speaking of owing, he had no choice but to painfully slap his own cheeks twice more.
As long as that woman doesn’t know about Elizabeth White, taking a few more slaps is worth it.
Such a minor incident was turned over, and Nicholas Croft, as the eldest brother, didn’t engage in this unseemly topic.
The four brothers continued playing cards, and after a while, Felix Shaw grumbled as he played.
"Damn, such bad luck, hitting fouls one after another, must have crossed some evil, can’t believe I’d hit another foul this round!"
"That’s what happens when you have a loose tongue," Nathan Moore spoke lightly while shuffling his cards, irritating Felix Shaw immensely.
All three winning, except for him. Nathan Moore won the most, taking tens of thousands from him in just three rounds. It wasn’t that he was petty and couldn’t afford to lose, it was just infuriating.
Just as Felix Shaw was about to retort, the phone on the card table rang. He reached for it, grabbing it without even looking at the caller ID, and brought it to his ear.
"Hey, speak up quick, I’m busy!"
Continuously hitting fouls, his mood was sour, so his tone was impatient too.
"Felix Shaw, and just whose grandpa are you?"
On the other side of the call, a crisp and measured female voice sounded, carrying an invisible pressure.
Felix Shaw stiffened, his spirit perking up as well.
Subconsciously straightening his posture, he joked.
"Ah... that... Mia, I was just... it wasn’t me..."
"Then who was it?" Before Felix Shaw could finish, Mia Foster interrupted.
Felix Shaw was quick to apologize at an opportune time, during this sensitive period, one definitely shouldn’t offend this woman, otherwise she might go to their fathers and blabber about his ongoing connection with Elizabeth White.
"I was just upset about losing at cards, so..."
"So you took it out on me?"
"No, how could that be?" Felix Shaw explained in a rather disgraceful manner, as Mia Foster interrupted him again, "Where are you? I’ll help you get back your honor."
"Hehe..." Hearing Mia Foster say she was coming over, Felix Shaw chuckled and dodged, "Better not, men are playing cards, how could women..." Before he could complete his sentence about her joining, he heard Mia Foster say.
"Cut the crap, the address!"
Mia Foster’s voice became stern, and Felix Shaw glanced at the three men who were watching him incessantly at the table. Licking his lips in submission, he obediently gave the address, "Shang Mu."
It’s odd to say, Felix Shaw, who fears neither heaven nor earth, and has been with countless women—sweet, innocent, seductive, cold—all played at his whim, yet this Mia Foster, who appears demure and composed, oddly unnerves him a bit.