After hanging up the call, Charlotte Allison stood by the office window with a cigarette dangling from her lips.
The full-length window reflected her tall and slender silhouette.
The suit pants accentuated her straight long legs, which were lazily bent. The collar of her white shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of her collarbone, exuding a sophisticated allure.
With a click, the lighter flame flickered, igniting the tip of the cigarette as her phone dialed.
She exhaled a thin stream of smoke. On the other end, Henry Shipton's teasing voice came through.
"What brings Miss Allison to me this late at night?"
Charlotte's voice was cold: "Who's in charge of White Tiger Live?"
Henry paused, intrigued: "You mean that little company? I don't really manage it. How did their person offend you?"
To them, White Tiger Live wasn't significant, so they usually didn't intervene. If Charlotte hadn't mentioned it today, Henry wouldn't have taken an interest in White Tiger Live.
