America Tycoon: The Wolf of Showbiz-Chapter 798 - 791: Red Umbrella, White Handle

The studio wasn't far from the soundstage, and Martin walked briskly towards the studio's main entrance, only to hear Mia and Sebastian arguing inside.

Sebastian questioned, "Who was that person last night? This isn't the first time I've seen you with him! Mia, please don't treat me like a child. The way you were clinging to his arm, you were clearly more than just friends!"

"Gross is a producer! I'll say it again, he is a producer!" Mia exploded, her voice sharp, "I saw him yesterday to discuss a future collaboration! I am now a screenwriter, a screenwriter for a film project with an investment of 60 million US dollars. Isn't it normal for other producers to seek me out?"

Instead of getting angrier, Sebastian calmed down a bit, lowering his voice and saying, "On the 30th of last month, you went to the Four Seasons Hotel with him; on the 6th, 14th, 19th of this month, and yesterday, you accompanied him there again, staying for over three hours each time!"

Mia's face changed: "You don't trust me, you've actually been following me!"

Sebastian said, "I am only obsessed with music, not an idiot!" He sighed, trying to reconcile, "Mia, come back. After this project is finished, we can go somewhere else..."

"Are you crazy? Go somewhere else? Do you know how hard I've worked to get where I am today?" Mia thought back to her days working part-time at Warner Bros. Studios as a waitress and then at her current role as the lead screenwriter for the crew, saying, "You prefer the impoverished me from the past, don't you? Now that I'm climbing the ladder of success, you're not satisfied!"

Sebastian, possessed with a romantic spirit, said, "I'd rather have it be like before than see you turn into what you are now!"

Mia said resolutely, "You cannot imprison my dreams in the name of love!"

Martin walked into the studio just in time to catch the last few sentences.

In the crew, a number of people were spectating, for onlookers are never in short supply.

The argument was bound to affect the work that would follow.

Without judging either of them, Martin went over and said, "Mia, Sebastian, have you had enough?"

As far back as 2005, Mia had known Martin. Seeing him approach, she lowered her head slightly, "I'm very sorry."

Sebastian too had known Martin for several years. He said, "It's all my fault, I couldn't control my emotions."

Martin looked at them in turn, speaking very seriously, "We have been friends for many years, and now we are colleagues working on the same crew. Your personal feelings and affairs should be properly discussed after you go back and settled as amicably as possible. Do not let it affect normal work, OK?"

Mia said, "I'm very sorry, Martin."

Sebastian nodded, "I promise, there won't be a next time."

Martin said, "Alright, go back, have a calm talk, and don't be the butt of other people's jokes."

Mia glanced at Sebastian, slung her Hermes bag over her shoulder, and was the first to leave the studio.

Sebastian stuffed his hands into his pockets and followed behind her.

Afterwards, Silsa quietly came over and whispered, "I told you so, didn't I?"

Martin gave her a look, "Quit the chatter and let's go."

They left the studio together and got into the electric cart driven by Bruce.

Silsa said, "I have a dinner date with Greta Gerwig tonight. It's a girls' get-together, so you can't come."

Martin asked, "The female screenwriter you met last time? The one hired by Disney Studios to adapt 'Beauty and The Beast'?"

"Yeah, she has already started writing the screenplay," Silsa leaned in a little closer, saying, "I've read the scripts Greta has written."

Martin said, "It seems you're getting along well with her."

Silsa wrinkled her nose, "Who do you think taught me?" She swung her fist, "When it comes to playing people, I'm an expert! And pulling strings, I'm good at that too!"

Martin had known Silsa for a long time and had a special regard for her, prompting him to ask further, "Have you talked with her in-depth?"

Silsa put down her fist and said, "We've talked a few times. Greta took on the 'Beauty and The Beast' project with the goal of making a name for herself and accumulating more qualifications. She's contemplating a story about a girl from Sacramento... Oh, Greta grew up there. She probably wants to write a script based on herself and then direct and shoot it herself."

Martin thought for a moment. He wasn't familiar with Greta Gerwig, but he remembered Silsa Ronan quite well, which made him think of "Lady Bird."

He said, "If you think Greta's story is good, you can recommend her to my studio."

Silsa said very seriously, "I will! Teacher, I promise you, only if you don't like Greta's story will she look for other companies."

Martin nodded in satisfaction. His student had not been taught in vain, knowing the ways to repay her teacher.

When they reached the parking lot, Silsa drove off by herself.

Martin and Bruce got into the Escalade, planning to head back to Beverly Hills.

The car had just left Burbank when Martin received a call from Clara.

"Are you free tonight?" Clara initiated the invitation, "I'd like to invite you to dinner to thank you for looking after me these past days."

Martin looked outside and said, "Let me invite you, to The Ritz-Carlton Hotel in Beverly Hills."

Clara immediately replied, "I'll be there by 7:30 sharp."

Martin said, "I have a permanent room reservation at the hotel's top floor. When you arrive, just let the front desk know, and someone will escort you up."

"Alright," Clara said with a laugh, "Martin, see you in two hours."

Martin put away his phone and said to Bruce, "To the Ritz-Carlton Hotel."

Bruce turned at the next intersection and glanced at the car's clock, saying, "I'll drop you off at the hotel and head over to Venice 'The Beach'."

Martin asked, "The Kardashian sisters are here?"

Bruce replied, "All four sisters are at 'The Beach' in Venice."

Impressed, Martin gave Bruce a thumbs-up, "Old Cloth, you really are talented!"

"Don't get me wrong." Bruce defended himself, "I'm just with Kim and Khloe..."

Martin cut him off, "You don't have to explain, I understand, we all understand, Bruce, you are a good guy, always looking after someone else's sisters."

Bruce gave Martin the middle finger, "Don't talk about me; you are no better than I am!"

Martin did not make any excuse but instead said, "Feel free to give away anything in the trunk."

"I won't be polite with you," Bruce said.

The Escalade soon arrived at the front of The Ritz-Carlton Hotel. Martin got out of the car and entered the hotel, taking the elevator to the top floor.

The Ritz-Carlton Hotel had been renovated; the top-floor Presidential Suite had been readjusted. Martin's room had an additional garden-style terrace with many green plants and a small swimming pool. A small glass restaurant had been constructed on the edge of the outer terrace.

Dining in the restaurant allowed one to overlook the bustling commercial district of Beverly at night.

While Martin was ordering dinner, Bruce had performed a routine check of the suite to ensure there was no issue before leaving for his rendezvous with the Kardashian sisters.

Meanwhile, Clara returned to her rented house, took a shower, carefully put on makeup, and deliberately changed into a red dress, leaving half an hour early for her drive.

Her rented house was just on the outskirts of Beverly Hills, not far from the Ritz-Carlton Hotel.

As Clara went downstairs, she noticed the wind had picked up.

Beverly Hills wasn't far from the coast, and the night wind was somewhat strong.

Clara held down the hem of her dress with one hand and covered her chest with the other as she got into her car and hurried to the hotel.

Upon arriving at the hotel and entering the underground parking garage, she called Martin and then took the private elevator to the top floor.

The butler waiting at the door asked a question, and as he opened the door, he told Clara to go straight to the terrace restaurant.

The sky had darkened by then, and all the lights were on in the suite and the terrace.

Clara's gaze passed through the living room and, across the glass curtain wall, saw Martin sitting in the terrace restaurant.

She quickly walked to the door leading to the terrace from the living room. The moment she opened the door, she felt a gust of night wind blow in her face.

Atop the high-rise building on Beverly Hill, the wind was even stronger than below.

Directly across the door, sitting in the glass restaurant, was Martin.

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Clara took a couple of steps forward when the night wind suddenly grew stronger. Perhaps due to the location of the terrace, wind blew upward from beneath her, lifting the red dress skirt like an opening red umbrella.

Under that "red umbrella," of course, were white undergarments.

Her smooth legs flashed in the night light as if they could reflect light.

Clara's first instinct was to press down on her dress, holding the hem at the front, much like Marilyn Monroe's iconic photo.

She then noticed that Martin across from her was watching with interest.

Clara quickly realized what was happening, let go of the hem of her dress, and hummed a dance tune, gently waving her arms and stepping to the rhythm with her high heels, as she danced with the wind.

With her excellent figure and dancing skills, the special pose was also a visual treat.

Martin leaned back in his dining chair, enjoying Clara's dance. In the midst of the fluttering red skirt, there was always a special view.

Perhaps because of his recent filming involving a lot of playing, singing, and dancing, Martin was reminded of a very classic online song from his past life when he saw Clara's rhythmic steps.

He couldn't help but hum quietly, "Under the red umbrella, the white handle, after eating, lie down flat together..."

The evening breeze suddenly died down, and Clara's red dress settled. She slightly adjusted her clothes and hair and, with an enchanting smile, walked into the restaurant.

Martin clapped lightly, "A very brilliant dance. It's clear that you've worked hard on your dance rehearsals."

Clara was quick to respond, putting down her purse, "I've also prepared another dance."

Martin gestured for her to proceed.

Clara opened her purse, took out her phone, and launched the music player.

As the dance music began, she placed her hands on her waist, as if starting up an engine, started shaking her hips and twisting her body like Martin's own "Zombie Gatling Gun" dance from the past.

Dinner was naturally postponed, and right there on the terrace, amid the night winds of Los Angeles, Martin indulged in "the red umbrella" and "the white handle."