As they entered the auction room, the air buzzed with murmured conversations, anticipation brimming in their eyes. The grand hall was nearly full, with guests seated at elegant tables draped in pristine white linens.
Augustine guided Anne toward their designated table, his gaze flicking to her every now and then, gauging her mood. She was still upset, her lips formed a tight pout as she settled into her seat.
He reached for her hand on the table. But Anne, still stubbornly holding onto her irritation, swiftly withdrew it and placed it in her lap.
A smirk tugged at the corner of Augustine's lips. Undeterred, he reached again, this time capturing her hand firmly.
Anne stiffened, her head snapping toward him, eyes blazing with silent protest. She tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened.
Her glare deepened. She gave another forceful tug, determined to break free. But Augustine remained as composed as ever, his expression unreadable, as if her struggles amused him.
