-- Red Dream Clubhouse.
It was quite vigorous. Michael Richard came down and took a look, and a flash of surprise passed through his eyes when he saw what was happening.
Is there going to be a group fight?
After some discussions and enquiries with the neighboring design department, he finally understood what was going on.
The young man from the adjacent department said with enthusiasm, "Mr. Richard, I bet you don’t know. This afternoon we heard that Miss Thompson from the design department next door invited everyone to the Red Dream Clubhouse. Their cheering was loud enough to be heard over here."
He touched his thinning hair, which was the result of overworking, and sighed, "I wish I was in the design department, I don’t want to work myself to the bone anymore!" ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novel★fire.net
When the words fell, Michael Richard nodded thoughtfully, then turned around and went upstairs.
Outside the president’s office, he paused slightly and then knocked on the door.
A cold voice came within.
Michael Richard pushed the door open, and strode in to stand in front of the desk.
The office was very quiet, and Michael Richard was choosing his words.
Justin Battleson looked up at him, and the two stared at each other.
Putting down the document, Justin Battleson frowned, "What’s wrong?"
"Mr. Battleson," Michael Richard cleared his throat and decided to straight away, "Miss Thompson took everyone in the design department to book out the Red Dream Clubhouse."
As the words fell, Justin Battleson’s pupils flickered.
He gritted his teeth slightly, put down the document in hand, stood up from the desk, looked at Michael Richard, and asked, "When did they leave?"
As his words fell, Michael Richard looked up and saw Justin Battleson calmly taking his coat from the back of the chair and striding out.
While going downstairs, Justin Battleson dialed a number.
After a few seconds, a lazy voice came from the other end, "Second Bro, what’s up?"
Justin Battleson didn’t beat around the bush, he said while walking into the elevator, "In half an hour, gather Harper Gibson, go to the Blue Tone Club."
The other end paused for a second, and then agreed.
He hung up the phone, standing straight in the swiftly descending elevator, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned.
The Red Dream Clubhouse is just across from the Blue Tone Club. Such a high-profile move, it’s clear she wants to cross swords with him.
Adam Ross put away the car keys and followed Harper Gibson in striding into the club.
The club had already been booked out by Justin Battleson. At a glance, they could easily recognize a familiar figure on the suede sofa.
Harper Gibson gave a small smile, sat down on the sofa opposite Justin Battleson, and looked at the beer bottles on the table. The smile on his face widened a few degrees.
He leaned back, lazily playing with the ring on his pinkie, the cool touch constantly transmitting to him.
Adam Ross also sat down, crossed his legs, looked at the man in front of him, his eyes slightly deep.
After a few seconds, Harper Gibson laughed lightly, and said with a smirk, "Second Bro, you seem troubled."
At these words, Justin Battleson put down the bottle in his hand, casually raised his eyebrow, and said slowly, "Indeed, something’s up."
Their gazes rested on him, and the latter paused for a few seconds, speaking with rare distress in his voice.
"I’m having a cold war with Charlotte."
Before the two could speak, Justin Battleson went on to tell the whole story. In the end, he glanced at Adam Ross coldly, "I’m actually trying to help you."
Adam Ross, sitting across from him, almost laughed out the sip of beer in his mouth. After barely swallowing it down, his eyes were full of uncontrolled amusement.
"I’m really sorry, but allow me to laugh a little longer."
He laughed out loud without any restraint, turned to look at Harper Gibson, said, "Third Bro, have you ever seen our Second Bro in this state?"