The buttons on his collar were slightly open, revealing two exquisite and beautiful collarbones, with faint traces of ambiguous red marks, adding a touch of allure.
Cyrus Hawthorne’s gaze, indifferent as water, slowly fell on the man, pausing for a few seconds for some unknown reason.
Julian Ford on the stage also didn’t expect Evan Sawyer to be so unlucky, actually scanning out a man!
This is like sentencing him to death!
"Uh, well, since it’s a gentleman, we should probably..." Julian was attempting to salvage the situation, when he heard the man below the stage chuckle lightly, his deepened voice carrying a hint of provocation.
"Isn’t it bad to back out last minute? Or are you saying President Hawthorne doesn’t even possess this much integrity?"
"Hiss—" No one anticipated that the man would publicly provoke Cyrus Hawthorne, faces continuously changed, some even sensing the dangerous atmosphere filling the air.
Could this man be insane?
Daring to force President Hawthorne to dance with him... is he tired of living, or just wanting to die quicker?
Everyone immediately stepped back a few paces, distancing themselves from the man.
Who would’ve thought, the next moment, Cyrus suddenly rose, took long strides, and walked directly towards the man.
The man’s provocative smile froze, watching with disbelief the gentleman before him, leaning slightly and invitingly, Cyrus, "You..."
"Didn’t you want to dance?" Cyrus responded indifferently, grasping the man’s hand with an unresisting force, leading him into the dance floor.
At this moment, the gasps from the audience grew heavier.
Julian and Evan were dumbfounded on the spot.
This... what was happening here?!
Wasn’t the usual outcome for Cian to twist that man’s hand until he couldn’t speak forever?
Considering his demeanor, how could he possibly agree to dance with another man!?
"No way! I need to stop them! If Annie comes and sees this later, she’ll be furious!" Julian discarded the microphone and intended to step off the stage but was hastily stopped by Evan.
"Don’t be silly. Besides Annie herself, have you ever seen anyone who can make Cian indulge so much?"
Julian’s eyes flashed with sudden realization, "Are you saying..."
In the center of the dance floor, the song was reaching its end.
Originally thought to be a mismatched dance, the audience gradually became mesmerized by the visual feast unfolding.
Though both were males, standing together didn’t appear incongruous; one was stern and powerful, the other handsome and refined, equally matched in appearance and temperament, making one hallucinate that it was a painting.
But noticing Cyrus Hawthorne’s increasingly somber gaze, the man misunderstandingly assumed he was angered by the previous provocation, Ann Vaughn gradually became apprehensive.
Regarding the look Susie Sommers spent hours creating for her, Ann Vaughn actually quite liked it.
This was far more pleasing than the times she disguised herself abroad to avoid persecution, intentionally appearing gruff to avoid being bullied.
Before sending her to The Platinum Palace, Susie even promised enthusiastically if Cyrus didn’t surprise, she’d twist her head off and give it to Ann to kick as a ball.
But now... even Susie wouldn’t suffice for this crisis QAQ!
"Heh." Cyrus let out a low chuckle from his thin lips, with his arm semi-encircling her slender waist, his finger pad resting heavily on the ambiguous marks on her neck, pressing thoroughly.
The raging storm just rising in his dark, narrow eyes abruptly halted when he realized the kiss marks on her neck could actually fade.
Ann Vaughn noticed the color on his fingertip and quickly covered her neck in embarrassment, "Susie said my character tonight is a debonair young nobleman. She originally wanted to give me a few genuine hickeys, but I fiercely stopped her..."
She originally thought Susie had given up on that terrifying idea, but who knew she’d sneak in the marks while Ann wasn’t looking!
What kind of debonair young nobleman was this supposed to be?
Meanwhile, the music stopped. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ ɴoᴠel Fɪre.nᴇt
Cyrus gazed down at his finger pad’s marks for a few seconds, his slightly tense thin lips curved when Ann intended to back away, he grasped her waist, pulling her forward.
Ann Vaughn wasn’t paying attention, instinctively leaning backwards, only to have her wig suddenly wobble and then drop onto the floor!
Her waterfall-like silky black hair cascaded from the back of her head down to her waist, prompting a not-so-small exclamation from the onlookers who’d been intently watching.
Ann felt a moment of panic, her eyes slightly widened, Cyrus took in her delicate expression, his lips nearing her porcelain white neck as he spoke, "Certainly like."
If this were their room, Cyrus would physically show Ann Vaughn just how intensely he wanted to tear off her silver white suit, stroking the redness in her eyes, tormenting her over and over.
With this deep, hoarse voice in her ears, Ann felt a coolness at her neck, followed by a delicate pain, making her involuntarily tense her back.
The surrounding murmurs seemed to blur, Ann Vaughn could only sense the familiar tingling sensation pressing on, making her entire self heat up.
After a moment, Cyrus slowly released her, his narrow eyes as if ink-stained, deep and unfathomable.
"This way, you can’t escape." He partially lowered his gaze, caressing the strawberry prints on Ann Vaughn’s porcelain skin, his voice hoarse.
Ann was puzzled by his words, casting a confused look at him.
She didn’t understand, but everyone present, including the media qualified to shoot the internal event, clearly comprehended.
This lady dancing with President Hawthorne was evidently the future Mrs. President of Hawthorne Corp.
Had he not truly liked her, would President Hawthorne have let her appear at such a significant occasion, even going as far to kiss her publicly!
Before the annual celebratory banquet concluded, countless hearts in S Country were undoubtedly broken.
"Annie, you really astound people once you speak up, even we didn’t recognize you." Julian Ford, fully convinced, made a bowing gesture to Ann Vaughn.
"Don’t drag me into this, clearly, Julian’s the only fool." Evan Sawyer unhesitatingly interrupted.
Upon hearing this, Ann Vaughn waved her hand wryly, then perplexedly looked at the man beside her with his casual expression, "Even they didn’t recognize me. How did you notice it was me?"
Susie’s makeup skills could truly be described as magical.
Even when she was staring into the mirror she mistakenly assumed it was another person, taking a while to adapt.
Yet he seemed to instantly identify her.
Cyrus Hawthorne raised his brows lightly, the two laughs entwined in his voice, "Innately perceptive?"
The appearance and figure, even habits and scent can be artificially pivoted, morphing into an unfamiliar presence.
Yet despite there being no similarity between them.
With just one glance, he could always recognize her.