Each building had its own character, and the one before Tracey was simple and neat with its tone in black.
In the architectural complex, this building was in a mature, modest, and mysterious style, speaking for the character of its owner.
After the confirmation of the identity, the receptionist let Tracey go upstairs.
"Thank you." Tracey expressed her gratitude politely and went to the elevator.
In fact, she felt uneasy as something seemed inexplicable. The ranking of Bale Group among the listed companies spoke for its influence.
Its president should be quite busy. Therefore, his agreement to meet Tracey seemed weird.
At the same time, Tracey felt grateful to Franco, who managed to arrange this meeting and was eager to meet the president, who was so powerful and influential.
On the way to the president's office, Tracey let her imagination run wild and felt curious about his appearance.
"Come in." A cold male voice came, which sounded familiar to Tracey.
She pushed open the heavy door, and the familiar color flooded into her eyes. The whole office was in black, in accordance with the style of that delicate business card.
This decoration reminded Tracey of the black in the high-end apartment she went to last night.
This office was as neat and tidy as that apartment. A slender man stood before a big French window.
Tracey felt familiar with that figure and was surprised at that angular face when he turned around slowly, "Mr., Mr. Wallace..."
Their entanglement began from that plane. From then on, they have several times. By the way, they jogged together this morning.
Tracey had never expected that he should be King, 'What a coincidence!'
"Tracey Xia?" The man was as cold as usual and showed little surprise, or he was good at controlling his expression.
Tracey nodded, "Hello, Mr. Wallace. I'm Tracey Xia. Mr. Franco Jensen told me to come here."
"I know. He told me your request on the phone. Take a seat first." Wilson walked slowly toward his desk. Tracey sat down restlessly.
She used to make good preparation for the business negotiation before going to a president office.
It was the first time that Tracey made no preparation and sat in a president's office.
"Coffee or juice?" Wilson sat down opposite Tracey.
The pleasantry was skipped when Tracey recalled the candour of Wilson.
"Juice." She blurted out. Coffee had been her favorite, but Adam, as a boyfriend, encouraged, to be exact, demanded her to drink juice instead of coffee.
Not knowing since when she had changed from an iron lady to a little woman.
As she was clear that whatever happened, there was always a warm harbor for her to retreat, and she had nothing to fear about.
Even if she was defeated, there was still in this world a man who loved her. This man would support her to rise again if that was her wish, or she could choose to nestle in his arms to be a little woman.
"What flavor?" Wilson seemed to be more patient in this kind of trivial matter.
"Mango." Tracey spat out one word.
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