Chapter 76 Lay Claim To You

Chapter 76 Lay Claim To You

Valentin casually straightened the cuffs she had wrinkled. A hint of amusement flashed in his eyes behind the lenses. "A necessary measure. If I hadn't said that, do you think that clingy guy would have left?"

"That's still not okay." Giselle was furious.

Valentin always had a way of making his domineering behavior sound perfectly reasonable.

"Get in the car." Valentin had no intention of arguing with her on the street. He pulled open the passenger door, his tone calm but carrying an undeniable weight.

Giselle stood still. After a few seconds of standoff, she couldn't withstand his heavy gaze and got in through gritted teeth.

The car drove smoothly through Kingshaven's night, finally stopping in front of a private club tucked away in a quiet alley.

Giselle followed Valentin into a private room. The decor was extremely luxurious—oil paintings and classical tapestries on the walls, and even the air carried an expensive woody fragrance.

A waiter respectfully handed over the menu. Giselle casually opened the first page, and when she saw the dizzying string of numbers, she froze.

The price of one appetizer was equal to half a month's rent.

Her fingertips trembled slightly, and a chill ran down her spine.

Someone like her couldn't afford a place like this. Was Valentin bringing her here to humiliate her, or to continue controlling her?

The overwhelming anxiety made her restless. She excused herself to go to the restroom, grabbed her bag, and headed for the door.

She wanted to escape.

As long as she could leave this suffocating space filled with the smell of money, even taking the subway or eating at a street stall would be better than sitting here being judged.

However, just as she reached the restaurant entrance, a familiar figure blocked her way.

Andrew, wearing a flashy pink suit, was leaning against a pillar by the door, playing with a lighter, grinning broadly. "Ms. Montague, leaving in such a hurry? Is the food not to your taste, or did Valentin upset you again?"

Giselle's expression stiffened. "Mr. Gibson, please move aside."

"Can't do that." Andrew shrugged with a helpless expression. "Valentin told me to take good care of you. If you walk off now, he'll give me hell for it."

Just then, a waiter also hurried over, politely but firmly blocking her path. "Ms. Montague, Mr. Dobbins is waiting for you. Please return to your seat."

Giselle looked at the two people blocking her way, and a deep sense of helplessness welled up inside her.

As long as Valentin wanted her to stay, she wasn't going anywhere tonight.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, and turned back to the private room.

Valentin was leisurely sipping red wine. Seeing her return, he didn't even lift an eyelid, his tone mocking. "What took you so long? I thought you'd fallen into the toilet."

Giselle sat down through gritted teeth, her hands gripping the hem of her skirt on her knees, and asked directly, "Valentin, what exactly do you want? If it's to catch up, there's no need. If it's about work, I've already joined Fuller Corporation."

Valentin put down his wine glass, his gaze falling deeply on her small, stubborn face. His slender fingers tapped rhythmically on the table.

"No rush." His voice was low and mellow, sounding particularly captivating in the quiet private room. "Eat first. Once you're full, we'll talk business."

As his words fell, several waiters filed in, placing dishes as exquisite as works of art on the table.

Giselle looked at the expensive dishes before her and felt her stomach turn, with no appetite at all.

But meeting Valentin's determined blue eyes, she knew this game had only just begun.

In the private room, the woody fragrance lingered, but couldn't suppress the aroma of the dishes.

Giselle had originally been sitting with a stiff spine, ready to resist at any moment. But when she saw the dishes on the table clearly, her eyelashes trembled uncontrollably.

They were all light flavors she preferred, and even the proportions of ingredients precisely avoided what she disliked.

"Mr. Dobbins, you certainly went to great lengths researching my tastes for this meal." Giselle gave a self-mocking smile, suppressing the strange ache in her heart.

Valentin turned the wine glass in his fingers. The deep red liquid traced the rim, making his fingertips appear even paler.

His tone was flat, with no hint of seeking credit. "Just something I did in passing. Since you're here, don't waste the chef's efforts."

Giselle was indeed hungry.

After a long taxing workday at Fuller Corporation with only a hasty sandwich at noon, she was starving.

At first she ate reservedly, taking small sips of soup.

But the private club's chef was clearly top-tier. The cream of mushroom soup was smooth on the palate, its rich flavor instantly capturing her taste buds.

Once she started, that tight defensive line quietly collapsed.

She gradually forgot that the man across from her was a feared figure in the business world. She kept her head down, using her utensils quickly, her cheeks occasionally puffing out a little.

Valentin didn't pick up his chopsticks. He just leaned back in his chair, his long legs crossed, his gaze falling deeply on her.

He had never thought watching someone eat could be enjoyable.

Giselle was very focused when eating, that genuine sense of satisfaction adding a touch of lively warmth to this cold, luxurious room.

He remembered that at Dobbins Group, she always wore that professional secretary mask, even calculating her posture when drinking water.

This lively side of her was far nicer than her old porcelain-doll poise.

Giselle was struggling with a piece of tender pan-seared salmon when she suddenly looked up and met Valentin's unfathomably deep eyes.

That gaze was too intense, too direct, carrying an almost greedy scrutiny.

"Cough… cough, cough."

Giselle choked on the fish, coughing violently. Her small face instantly flushed red, and tears welled up in her eyes from the physical reaction.

"Eat slower. No one's competing with you."

Valentin frowned slightly. His words sounded dismissive, but his actions were quick.

With one long stride he came around the table, and before Giselle could react, a warm large hand was already on her back, patting rhythmically.

His other hand passed her a glass of water. Their fingertips touched, and Giselle jerked as if shocked, coughing even harder.

Finally catching her breath, she was about to look up and thank him when a clean silk handkerchief was already at the corner of her mouth.

Valentin leaned down slightly, his eyes behind the gold-rimmed glasses half-lowered, his expression as focused as if handling something precious.

He gently wiped the soup from the corner of her mouth, his cool fingertips brushing against her sensitive lips through the handkerchief, barely touching.

The air in the private room seemed to be sucked dry.