America's No. 1 financial conglomerate

Chapter 566 Pretty Boy

Freud once said that women are like a delivery station for newbies; there are no medium-sized items, only large and small items.

Ernst is now dealing with a large item within a small shipment.

Of course, the size is not the key factor.

Paris, even in America where post stations are commonplace, is still considered a young woman in her prime.

Theoretically, she should be considered a small item.

But this level of flamboyance has absolutely nothing to do with the word "small".

Ernst stayed in New York for a while, but Paris missed it as she went on vacation to Hawaii with her grandfather, Old Hilton.

When I returned and learned about this, I was filled with regret. I even called Ernst to ask him when he would come to New York again.

However, Ernst did not reply to her, but instead made an excuse and hung up the phone.

However, to his surprise, less than half an hour after he returned to his mansion in Central Park, New York, the other party came to his door.

"How did you know I was going back to New York?" Ernst frowned, wanting to know how his itinerary had been leaked. Paris, on the other hand, was completely taken aback by Ernst's seemingly idiotic question. Was she really that unappealing? This made her furrow her brow slightly in displeasure.

Then she walked in as if she were coming home, and greeted Tom and the others, as if she were the owner of the house.

Seeing Ernst sitting on the sofa looking at her intently, Paris ignored the presence of Muller and the others and immediately half-thrown herself into his arms, just like a young couple in love who hadn't seen each other for a long time.

Muller and the others, being sensible, exchanged glances and then tacitly returned to their respective rooms.

Paris's lips curled into a smug smile, then she pointed to the overhead light and explained, "I'm not blind. Do you think I can't tell if the windows outside are lit or not?"

She then realized, "It seems you don't welcome me."

Ernst went even further, revealing his true colors and taking his scumbag tendencies to the extreme: "We're just normal friends, there's no such thing as welcome or not."

For him, Paris was just an appetizer, something to have a taste of.

It's best to avoid provoking this woman.

The Hilton family is a prominent American family, and it would be difficult to cause trouble if things got out of hand.

We're all eating from the same pot, so we still have to maintain appearances.

He may be a playboy, and there are plenty of playboys in America, but if word gets out that he specializes in sleeping with wealthy women, that's a different story. Who would want to be friends with him? Who would dare to be friends with him?

So if he still hopes that this woman can go back to her old ways, that's another matter.

The problem is, you don't have a boyfriend, so I'm not interested in playing around with you.

To his relief, the other party did not act as if they were going to die.

This shows that she and Ernst shared the same idea: they knew they couldn't be together, and it was just a matter of each getting what they needed.

"And yet I cared about you and wanted to tell you some information about Goldman Sachs," Paris pouted and grumbled.

Goldman Sachs?

Ernst glanced at her.

What information could she possibly have? She probably hadn't even heard that Goldman Sachs was shorting Jump Games.

However, he quickly realized that she might not know about Goldman Sachs shorting YueDong Games, but she must know about the mainland telecommunications issue.

After all, this matter has been widely discussed, and newspapers have been filled with news about it for nearly a month.

Forget about the ins and outs of the matter, even a deep analysis is something any random person in America could explain in great detail; I'm really tired of hearing it. "What happened to Goldman Sachs?" Ernst asked casually.

"Want to know?" Paris gave a smug look, then placed her small hand on his abs, slowly climbing up Ernst's chest, her face full of provocation. "So, how are you going to repay me?"

That's why Ernst said it was a small, big item.

I first noticed this when I was in San Francisco; the language system is very rich.

Ernst didn't pay much attention at the time, after all, he had met many people with good language systems.

But he noticed something amiss last time in New York.

This woman not only has a good language system, but is also passionate about stage plays.

She doesn't prefer role-playing, but rather something more artistic, like adult films.

A climax is essential, but the prelude is also necessary, and there should be plenty of plot twists interspersed throughout.

Ernst played with her once, and he could only say that the first time he played with her, he was impressed, but afterwards he felt a bit bored, at least that's how he felt, because he wasn't satisfied.

"Fine, don't tell me then. I don't want to know anyway." Ernst wasn't going to tolerate her bad habit.

"Ugh, can't you just comfort me?" Seeing Ernst get up to leave, Paris flipped over and straddled him, looking utterly aggrieved. "Fine, I'll tell you!"

That's what he said, but he didn't say anything more for a long time.

Ernst smiled inwardly and slipped his large hand under her t-shirt.

He has always been a person who clearly distinguishes between rewards and punishments.

Smelling the faint scent of her bath, and feeling the complete lack of defense beneath her clothes, I knew she had just come from a shower.

As the large hand left, Paris's slightly dazed eyes instantly returned to normal. She pouted in dissatisfaction and grabbed the large hand, trying to put it back in its place.

But Ernst didn't let her have her way; he just watched her with a smile.

"Your hand comes first," Paris said, trying to take the initiative.

She still wanted to bargain, so Ernst grabbed her waist and tried to lift her down.

Paris wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body close to his, and whispered in his ear, "I'll tell you, okay?"

"Goldman Sachs invited some Wall Street people to a cocktail party at the Hilton, and Paulson personally greeted them."

"That's quite a high-profile setup. Paulson even acted as a doorman himself." "Who's here?" Ernst asked.

"John Reed of Citibank, Warner III of Morgan Stanley, and Komansky of Merrill Lynch were all present, along with representatives from Bear Stearns, LJ Bank, TD Bank, and others."

Paris rattled off many names as if they were her own.

"You saw all of this with your own eyes?"

"That's right, I just came back from Hilton too. I even helped Grandpa receive guests." She held her head high, looking quite proud. Being able to know so many important people clearly satisfied her vanity.

It has to be said that, of all the socialites in America, she and Amanda had the best starting points.

He was raised by the family patriarch from a young age and was almost ready to take over the family business.

"Will these be of any use to you?" Paris asked.

is that useful?

It's so useful.

Ernst was certain that this was a cocktail party for the Jumping Games organization.

Listen to the people and organizations attending the conference. Although they are all financial institutions, their business development is different. However, they have one thing in common.

That is, they are all securities firms.

A well-known brokerage firm on Wall Street.

Seeing Paris's smug look, Ernst never imagined that one day he would also become a gigolo, obtaining some crucial information through a woman.

He reached out and pinched the other person's delicate chin, applying slight pressure.

The other person not only didn't feel any pain, but their eyes even seemed to hold a hint of excitement.