Ensnared by Mafia, Days and Nights

"You...!" Clark was seething with anger, visibly insulted yet too cowed to respond.

He couldn't afford to mess with a man who could effortlessly write a check for ten million dollars.

"Is there anything else you'd like to bid on?" Henry inquired smoothly.

Giselle shook her head. "No."

"Do you want to stay until the auction ends, or would you rather head home now?" Henry's voice was tender.

Giselle didn't answer immediately as the assistant approached, carrying a set of jewelry and presenting it to her.

She gazed at the jewels, torn by a surge of conflicting emotions.

Despite her disdain for Henry, without his intervention today, the jewelry-a treasure her mother had cherished her entire life.

"I'll have these delivered to your walk-in closet," Henry said, knowing how much she valued the jewelry. It would be placed where she could occasionally admire it. And perhaps glance at the clothes he had purchased for her.

Giselle nodded. "Okay."

"Little Giselle, is this your boyfriend?" Clark brazenly leaned in to ask again. "How come you've never brought him home?"

As Clark reached out to grasp Giselle's hand, she recoiled in disgust, "Don't touch me!"

Henry's glare was sharp and swift, causing Clark to retract his hand, too frightened to move again.

"Let's go," Giselle stood up.

Henry also stood, draping his arm around her shoulders.

She turned to Megan. "Thank you so much for today. I owe you a big dinner."

Megan blew her a kiss. "There's no need for thanks. Just head home."

Under the gaze of onlookers, Henry escorted Giselle protectively, not holding her too tightly, yet treating her as if she were a precious treasure.

Cynthia watched their retreating figures, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, but she felt no pain.

Why?

What did Giselle have that she didn't, to attract such a man?

Clark, meanwhile, was scrutinizing their relationship, a hint of cunning thought in his minds.

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It was August in New York, and though the days had yet to change, the nights had cooled significantly.

Exiting the banquet hall, a chill wind swept through.

Giselle shivered involuntarily.

Henry removed his jacket and placed it over her shoulders.

The jacket slipped slightly due to Giselle's slender frame.

He adjusted it and frowned slightly. "I've been trying to put on some weight, and I've lost it all in half a month." "Really?" she replied, a rarity for her.

Typically, Henry did most of the talking, and Giselle rarely responded unless absolutely necessary.

But now, her tone was even, like that of casual lovers' banter.

Henry looked down at her, a complex emotion stirring in his heart.

A silver-gray Mercedes G65 awaited them at the hotel entrance. The valet handed Henry the keys with both hands.

The night wind rustled the plane trees along the road and lifted the hem of Giselle's dance dress, revealing her delicate calves. Henry walked to the passenger side, thoughtfully opening the car door for Giselle.

The car's ventilation system kicked in, spreading a faint, elegant fragrance.

Henry leaned in close, and Giselle, anticipating his pretext to help with the seatbelt to draw near her, quickly buckled herself in. Click-

"I've already buckled up, you don't need to help me," she said hastily, worried he might not realize.

When she looked up, Henry was already inches from her face, their breaths mingling.

Giselle blinked up at Henry, his gaze intense, eyelashes casting an elegant shadow.

Suddenly, she found herself wondering why she had never noticed the extraordinary length of his lower lashes, which seemed almost too perfect to be real.

The car was silent except for the sound of the ventilation system.

After a pause, his voice, husky and low, broke the silence: "Missed me?"

He raised his right hand, gently caressing her skin, moving from her jawline to her cheek, across the curve of her eye and brow, and finally threading his fingers through her hair.