The Foolish Son of the Landlord
“Greetings, Miss. Shannon,” the leading man politely smiled at Cynthia Shannon, “I am George McNamara from Ford Cooperation.”
“Hello,” Cynthia nodded slightly, gesturing for them to take a seat.
George, as the representative for this negotiation, sat in the middle, directly across from Cynthia.
Meanwhile, Tristan Ford sat on the side, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on the armrest of the chair.
With distinct knuckles, his fingers supported his forehead.
Even without uttering a word throughout the entire process, his presence was still hard to ignore.
Even though Cynthia was several meters away from him, she could still sense the scorching gaze he cast upon her.
Clearing her throat, she made an effort to ignore his presence and fully immerse herself in the work at hand.
The terms of cooperation had been settled with just a few words between Cynthia and Tristan on the day of the auction.
However, the previously agreed-upon share ratio had changed.