Chapter 228: Chapter 228: What Am I Supposed to Do with You?
Now, the internationally renowned Doctor Aquarelle, with her exquisite medical skills, is someone who can only be admired from afar.
"We’re having a class reunion next Friday. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. If you have time, why not come for a small gathering? After all, it’s been years."
"Alright, if I have time, I’ll definitely be there." Ann Vaughn smiled faintly, then exchanged WeChat contacts with the woman in the designer evening gown, named Yasmine Warren.
After they left, Ann Vaughn found a spot to sit down and started eating ice cream.
"Miss Aquarelle, may I invite you for a dance?" A man in a silver-gray suit with a refined appearance approached Ann Vaughn and extended his right hand to her politely.
"I’m sorry, I’d like to sit alone for a while." Ann Vaughn declined with a gentle smile.
"I see, then I won’t disturb you." The man showed a slightly disappointed expression and then left.
Subsequent men who came forward to invite her to dance were all declined by Ann Vaughn using the same reason.
When Sutton Jennings returned to the lounge, he saw Ann Vaughn looking annoyed by the men who were almost flaunting like peacocks.
He chuckled softly, walked to Ann Vaughn’s side, and said, "This beautiful lady, would you do me the honor of dancing with me?"
Instinctively, Ann Vaughn wanted to refuse, but paused for a second, and upon seeing it was Sutton Jennings, she immediately smiled.
"Brother Shane, you didn’t have to make such a big sacrifice." She said, putting down the ice cream and placing her small hand in his right hand.
"How could it be a sacrifice?" Sutton Jennings looked at her with a smile in his peach blossom eyes, harboring a profound tenderness that was hard to express, "It’s an honor indeed."
He led Ann Vaughn into the dance floor, and as the music started, they began to dance.
Ann Vaughn reminisced about the taste of the ice cream and explained, "No, I just meant that your too-serious demeanor is a bit hard for me to get used to."
After all, in recent years, she had often seen Sutton Jennings point a gun at people with the composure of a battlefield commander.
And someone in Sutton Jennings’ position naturally wouldn’t be some gentleman. He just seemed more composed and reserved, not like that kind of person at all.
"I’ve always been very serious." Sutton Jennings held Ann Vaughn’s hand and spun her around twice before gently wrapping his arm around her slender waist again.
For some reason, his hand was somewhat warm.
"I hope your conscience doesn’t hurt too much when you say that." Ann Vaughn laughed and teased.
Meanwhile, a pair of dark eyes like a hawk’s maintained a close watch on the couple dancing intimately like lovers in the dance floor.
A storm of layers of darkness swept in, stirring up a tremendous commotion.
Crack
A shattering sound was heard, startling Mark Joyce, who was standing next to the man, and then silently leaving to fetch a medical kit.
"President Hawthorne, let me bandage you up." Mark Joyce spoke cautiously, then used tweezers to remove the shards embedded in Cyrus Hawthorne’s palm, disinfected and applied medicine, and finally wrapped it with gauze.
From start to finish, Cyrus Hawthorne didn’t utter a word, but the chilling aura that emanated from him was such that no one dared to come near.
It was unknown how much time passed before Cyrus Hawthorne suddenly got up and started walking towards the dance floor.
Mark Joyce had wanted to remind him that the gauze wasn’t fully secured, but ultimately lacked the courage.
In the dance floor, Ann Vaughn, wearing a cheongsam, couldn’t make any large movements and could only perform simple dance steps, but it didn’t hinder her enjoyment.
"Brother Shane, you didn’t bring me to this auction just because I need those herbs, right?" Ann Vaughn sensed something when she entered the lounge.
Previously, the looks directed at her were filled with disdain, contempt, scrutiny, and loathing, as if even glancing at her once would sully their eyes.
The Imperial Capital held many rumors about her, and of course, they were all scandals.
Even if the rumors were false, Ann Vaughn had indeed been hurt by them before, with no one believing her innocence.
But tonight, among those gazes observing her, there was curiosity, excitement, admiration, and adoration.
No one looked at her the way they did before, nor discussed her recklessly.
The respect she once longed for but never received now came easily, even if she had long stopped caring about these ephemeral things.
"Thank you for your thoughtful effort." Ann Vaughn’s eyes revealed some gratitude.
"You are inherently exceptional; it’s just that some people can’t see it." Sutton Jennings didn’t claim any credit; his original intention was simple.
It was merely to make all those who once slandered and insulted Ann Vaughn realize a certain fact.
Ann Vaughn smiled warmly, released his hand, spun around a few times, then suddenly her hand was grasped by another, and she was pulled backward.
Her back slammed into a broad and firm chest, and just as Ann Vaughn was about to turn around, she was gripped by the waist and forcefully led away.
"Annie!" Sutton Jennings’ face darkened, just as he was about to catch up, Mark Joyce came over and blocked his way.
"Lord Shane, how have you been lately?"
Staring at the smile on Mark Joyce’s stoic face, Sutton Jennings suppressed his urge to act out on the spot.
Outside The Gilded Pavilion.
Ann Vaughn was almost half-carried out of the hall, attracting countless eyes, making her want nothing more than to die.
"Let me go!" Ann Vaughn struggled, but was shoved into the back seat by Cyrus Hawthorne, his long legs pinning her restless ones, while his arms pinned her hands apart onto the seat.
He was very close to her, his breaths landing warmly against Ann Vaughn’s neck, and his imposing tall figure pressed snugly against her.
Like two gears in this world that fit together perfectly, without a gap between them.
Ann Vaughn’s eyes widened, her clear eyes reflecting the man’s seemingly defeated and complex expression after inner turmoil.
As if... he was at a loss about what to do with her.
Just as this thought surfaced, Ann Vaughn couldn’t help but internally scold herself for overthinking.
"What should I do about you?" Cyrus Hawthorne’s low, almost suppressed voice came from beside her ear, laced with a slightly heated breath.
It made one involuntarily shiver.
Ann Vaughn was slightly startled, trying hard to ignore the faint discomfort in her heart, she swallowed and then raised her head, pretending to be calm, "Mr. Hawthorne, have you lost your mind enough? I..."
Her words were cut off by a cool sensation covering her lips.
"Mmph" Ann Vaughn wanted to push him away, but couldn’t muster the strength to free her hands from his grasp.