Chapter 170 - 168: The New Year’s Project
The man’s name was Wesley Yates. In terms of looks and aura, he was clearly a different breed from everyone else in the room.
Cecilia Sterling was momentarily curious, staring at the man for an extra couple of seconds. Wesley Yates, sensing her probing gaze, glanced over at her.
Their eyes met. Cecilia couldn’t see the emotion in his eyes through his sunglasses, but as the junior, she still offered a polite smile and a nod.
Wesley Yates saw this and gave a slight nod in response.
The dishes soon began to arrive in the private room, and various fine wines were brought to the table. As the hosts of this gathering, James Lockwood and Whitt were adept at working the room, immediately starting to make the rounds with their glasses.
"Jeb, thank you for gracing us with your presence. I’ll drink first." Whitt was the first to approach Wesley Yates to offer a toast. His choice of address was interesting—not some form of "President" or "Boss," but "Jeb."
James Lockwood, meanwhile, took his glass to Mr. Young. "Mr. Young, a toast to you. Thank you for coming."
Both men were major investors in the industry. Aside from Cecilia Sterling, who didn’t know much about them, everyone else present was well aware that the primary purpose of the gathering was to court these two titans of finance.
Seeing this, Morgana Dyer quickly picked up her wine glass and went to join them. ’Opportunities don’t just fall into your lap,’ she thought. ’You have to be proactive.’
"Jeb, Mr. Young, a toast to you both." Morgana Dyer was all smiles, her deep purple gown bright and stunning. The wide expanse of her exposed back accentuated her snow-white skin, making her look incredibly sexy.
The smile on Mr. Young’s face became much more genuine when he saw Morgana Dyer. As he greeted her, his hand expertly snaked onto her back and began to stroke it gently. Morgana Dyer showed no sign of displeasure.
’He wouldn’t dare do anything too outrageous at an event like this. A few strokes on the back was nothing worth resisting.’ Morgana Dyer was well-versed in such matters and had grown accustomed to them.
While the others drank and chatted merrily, Cecilia Sterling, a newcomer to this type of event, didn’t feel the least bit uncomfortable. The dishes were exquisite and delicious, and she was thoroughly enjoying her meal.
Just then, a seemingly courteous man suddenly appeared by Cecilia’s side. Holding a champagne flute, he said, "Hey, beautiful. We haven’t met. How about a drink together?"
Cecilia Sterling was clearly the youngest person at the table. She was stunning and sitting right next to James Lockwood, so the man had obviously mistaken her for one of Goldman Golding’s starlets, brought along by Lockwood to liven up the party.
It wasn’t really his fault. People like that were common at these events; Morgana Dyer was a case in point.
"I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not feeling well, so I can’t drink tonight. May I toast you with juice instead?"
Cecilia didn’t refuse, readily standing up with her glass of juice. She had come hoping to network, but the timing was simply unfortunate—she was on her period. It wasn’t that she was trying to slight him.
But when the man heard this, he assumed she was just playing hard to get.
’If she wasn’t feeling well, would James Lockwood have brought her? That would just be a buzzkill.’
So he smiled, glanced at the juice in Cecilia’s hand, and said, "Juice is no fun. Look, everyone else is drinking. A little bit won’t hurt."
Not far away, James Lockwood had been keeping an eye on Cecilia the whole time. Seeing the situation, he immediately rushed over to intervene on her behalf.
"Mr. Hale, she really can’t drink today. Tell you what, I’ll drink in her place. A toast to you!"
With that, James Lockwood tilted his head back and downed the liquor in his glass.
Mr. Hale’s face, however, twisted into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "President Lockwood, you’re quite protective, aren’t you? Taking such good care of your new talent?"
Cecilia understood at once—the man had misunderstood who she was.
James Lockwood rushed to explain. "Mr. Hale, you’ve misunderstood. This is Miss Sterl—"
"No need to explain, President Lockwood. You already finished your drink, so how can I not give you face?" Mr. Hale interrupted, then drained his own glass. "Fine. I’m heading back."
With that, he shot a glance at Cecilia, then turned and walked away, looking thoroughly displeased.
"I’m sorry, Miss Sterling. I should have introduced you to everyone first," James Lockwood said to Cecilia, his expression full of apology.
But Cecilia just smiled and shook her head, unconcerned. "It’s fine. It’s not like everyone has introduced themselves. No need to make an exception for me."
She thought it was actually better this way, allowing her to quietly observe how everyone socialized at these functions.
To be honest, it was a real eye-opener for Cecilia. She noticed that the two men at the head of the table hadn’t moved from their seats from start to finish; everyone else had to proactively approach them to offer toasts and make conversation.
Even at a gathering of the upper crust, there was a clear pecking order.
Ordinary people might see A-list celebrities as the pinnacle of the entertainment world, but above them were echelons the public couldn’t see, layer after layer. The real power players were invisible.
"President Lockwood, what’s the story with the guy in the seat of honor, the one with the sleeve tattoo?"
Cecilia couldn’t contain her curiosity and asked in a low voice.
Hearing this, James Lockwood leaned closer and explained in a hushed tone, "Jeb. Have you really not heard his name, Miss Sterling?"
Cecilia shook her head.
Seeing her confusion, James Lockwood added, "He’s a big shot from the underworld. I can’t get into the specifics. I’m sure you understand, Miss Sterling."
A look of dawning comprehension crossed Cecilia’s face. ’That explains it.’ It fit perfectly with the ruthless, dangerous aura he projected.
"Should I introduce you two?"
Seeing that Cecilia seemed interested in Wesley Yates, James Lockwood asked tentatively.
Cecilia smiled and politely refused without a moment’s hesitation. "Not right now, thank you. But I appreciate the thought, President Lockwood."
’I’m not ready to deal with someone like that just yet.’
After rounds of toasts and conversation, the atmosphere grew increasingly lively. The room became much louder as everyone was clearly getting a little buzzed.
Cecilia, who had remained in her seat from start to finish just like the two head honchos, had inevitably drawn the attention of several people.
But with Morgana Dyer flitting like a social butterfly among these powerful investors, no one else came over to bother Cecilia for a drink.
After all, the real fun would start after the business was settled. These men knew there was no need to rush.
Everything still revolved around the two big shots at the head of the table.
It wasn’t until Mr. Young finally spoke, calling over to James Lockwood and Whitt. "Lockwood, Whitt, hurry up and bring out the project proposal. Any longer and everyone will be too drunk to talk business."
His comment made everyone laugh. James Lockwood nodded quickly and handed out a copy of the prepared project file to each person.
Once it was time for business, the playful expressions vanished, and everyone turned serious.
In the eyes of an investor, making money was paramount; there was no room for carelessness.
The private room fell silent as everyone, Cecilia included, lowered their heads and began to carefully review the project details.
It was a film project. Just seeing the director’s name listed among the production crew on the first page was enough to know it was a major production.
In short, it was a "road trip comedy" slated for release during the next Lunar New Year holiday. This genre was well-known for one thing: it would be packed with cameo appearances by actors familiar to the audience.
Even a passerby with a single shot could turn out to be a household name.