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墨書 Inktalez
As a stockbroker, there are many times when direct interaction with clients isn't necessary. However, to leave a good impression and ensure that clients continue to work with her as their stock agent, face-to-face meetings are essential.
Isabella Braddock was the one with the most shares held by clients among the previous brokers; otherwise, that guy wouldn't have placed her information at the top of the list.
"Hello, is this Sister Elizabeth Braddock?" Shasha greeted politely.
"Yes, this is me. I believe this number belongs to Mr. Baker?" A soft, alluring female voice came from the other end of the line, with a slightly unusual pronunciation but a distinctly British accent.
Shasha wasn't surprised by this. After all, this model had dual nationality—British and Japanese.
"Mr. Baker has resigned. Before he left, he handed over all the client information to me, so I will be responsible for your stock operations from now on. Of course, I know you're busy, but if you have time tonight, would you be willing to join me for dinner? I’d like to share my operational philosophy with you."
The request wasn't too forward, and after a brief consideration, the voice on the other end agreed, "Sure."
"Then let's meet at 7 PM at the Champs-Élysées restaurant." After confirming the time and place, Shasha hung up.
The following tasks were straightforward: monitor the stock market and analyze its trends while developing client relationships.
With her professional knowledge of stocks, Shasha also improved her eloquence and successfully attracted many new clients for her agency. As for herself? She secretly bought a few shares. Although there were explicit regulations against stockbrokers participating in trading, there were always unspoken rules within the industry; as long as she didn’t flaunt it, management would turn a blind eye.
Time passed quickly. After declining several colleagues' invitations for dinner gatherings, Shasha headed to the agreed restaurant.
At 6 PM, Shasha arrived at the restaurant. After securing a reservation, she sent a text message to Isabella.
Bored while flipping through a magazine to pass the time, she noticed that the woman on the cover looked quite familiar. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was none other than Isabella herself! This made Shasha chuckle softly.
Soon enough, half an hour passed when a stunning figure appeared at the entrance of the restaurant.
She had lustrous purple hair styled simply yet elegantly. The knee-high boots did not make her legs look short; instead, they accentuated their length. The nude stockings gave her skin an alluring sheen. Dressed in a simple chest-length inner coat with a sleeveless outer layer, she exuded a sense of fashion both in style and demeanor.
Of course, the most captivating aspect was her face, which bore an Eastern mystique combined with a European charm, reminiscent of a Mixed Blood beauty—exquisite yet not overly seductive, radiating an unusual allure.
Although it was clear from the photo that Isabella was a stunning woman, seeing her in person revealed that she was at least ten times more beautiful than in the picture. This was evident from the subtle glances of admiration and envy from the men around.
Soon, Isabella approached Shasha's table, inevitably drawing the envious or jealous gazes of those nearby.
“Hello, Elizabeth Braddock,” Shasha said as he stood up, extending his right hand with a gentlemanly smile.
Her not-so-fair hand felt soft in his grasp; the delicate touch vanished in an instant. Once they were seated, Shasha complimented her, “You are beautiful, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
“Thank you,” Isabella replied with a polite smile. Such compliments were something she heard many times.
Little did she know that Shasha had actually encountered very few beauties; Isabella truly was the most stunning among them.
“To avoid wasting your time, let’s eat while we chat.”
After calling over the waiter to place their order, Shasha began to explain his operational methods, making an effort to minimize technical jargon so that Isabella could understand better.
Isabella had some knowledge of stocks; otherwise, she wouldn’t have invested her hard-earned money in the market. After listening to Shasha's explanation, she found herself quite impressed by this man who shared nearly the same complexion as hers. Finally, she spoke up, “You are very professional, Mr. Xia. I feel confident leaving my stocks in your hands.”
“It is indeed my honor to receive your recognition,” Shasha smiled.
The meal was quite pleasant; initially, Shasha thought it would be a successful social engagement. However, an unexpected incident occurred.
A passerby accidentally bumped into their table, causing the knife and fork on Isabella's left side to fall.
Shasha intended to pick them up but noticed that the utensils bizarrely hung in mid-air.
The scene left Shasha stunned, her eyes wide in disbelief.
Noticing Shasha's gaze, Isabella hurriedly put away her knife and fork. Once she confirmed that only Shasha had witnessed the moment, she leaned in closer and whispered, "I hope Mr. Xia can keep this secret for me."
Snapping back to reality, Shasha numbly nodded. What thoughts lingered in her mind remained a mystery to everyone.
Soon, Isabella found an excuse to leave, and Shasha did not stop her. After all, lingering any longer would undoubtedly create an awkward atmosphere.
The meal was hastily finished, and as Shasha stepped out of the restaurant, she let out a sigh of relief, murmuring to herself, "I never expected my first client to be a mutant, Isabella Braddock? That name sounds familiar; who could it be?"
While Shasha pondered this, Isabella had been in a state of anxiety since being discovered by Shasha. It was important to note that mutants were not protected by law at that time; the American government was secretly hunting them down. If exposed, she would undoubtedly face significant trouble.
After much contemplation, Isabella bit her lip and made a decision: she would use her psychic link to erase that part of Shasha's memory.
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