Leslie never worked overtime, so he had arrived home when he received the call.
Smoking a cigar while standing in front of the living room’s window, he looked stern. “For celebration? It’s way too early. Did you make a mistake?”
“No. I’m sure it’s their design team,” the senior executive answered affirmatively.
Leslie was confused as it wasn’t Ivan’s style. After all, he should have celebrated it after the products' success in the market.
“Mr. Eastwood, does it mean...” the senior executive guessed, “Their design drafts are perfect?”
“It doesn’t depend on my or Ivan Marsh’s opinion.” Leslie took a drag of the cigar, exhaling. “It only depends on the customers.”
“We should hurry up, then. Probably they’ll start the production tomorrow and leave us behind.”
Leslie didn’t reply. He ended the call, and his stern face changed slightly.
A while later, he called Catherine, who was still in Roxy Fall.
Leslie asked solemnly, “How’s your design going?” He was anxious, reluctant to be surpassed.
“We’re still looking for inspiration. Some designers are getting on the right track,” Catherine reported to him honestly. “What’s wrong?”
Leslie answered, “The design team of the Marsh Group has returned to town. Do you know this matter?”
“Yes, I do.”
A short moment of silence later, Leslie sighed, “Good luck.” Without extra words, he ended the call as he was unwilling to put too much pressure on her.
Later that evening, a Lamborghini parked downstairs in Skyhigh Apartment Complex's parking lot.
Ivan, Jennifer, and Linda entered the elevator and went upstairs to the 28th floor of a building.
When the door opened, Finnley greeted them, “Good evening, Mr. Marsh, Ms. Brooks.”
“Good evening, Mr. Russell,” Linda followed the Marsh couple in and greeted him.
Finnley nodded at her in response, “Good evening.” He didn’t look unhappy about her visit.
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