She was genuinely uncomfortable, and also getting annoyed by Damien Vaughn’s staring, so she’d brought it up just to distract him.
Damien Vaughn finally shifted his gaze from her face to her waist.
"Why didn’t you say so earlier?"
Cecelia Archer lifted herself slightly, and he pulled the bag out from under her. To her surprise, he began examining it with great interest, turning it over and over.
Cecelia Archer realized he was truly drunk.
It was just a worn-out old bag, and she had just been sitting on it. Normally, wouldn’t he have been disgusted, calling it dirty? ’And look at his expression now...’
Remembering what Gwen Morgan had said when she returned in the afternoon, and the hickey on her neck, the more Cecelia looked at Damien Vaughn, the more she found him repulsive. ’He’s so sleazy, so sanctimonious. A real wolf in sheep’s clothing!’
’He’s even worse than Wyatt Wynn and Brandon Jacobs. At least they’re blatant scumbags.’
"What’s so interesting? It’s just an old bag."
She reached out and snatched it back.
Damien Vaughn had already gotten a good look. Her bag was clearly not from any major designer, and the leather on the bottom edges was even starting to peel.
Cecelia’s reaction was clearly one of awkward embarrassment at being found out. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her.
’Even the girls Wyatt Wynn brought to liven up the party were all carrying Chanel bags. Why didn’t I think to buy Cecelia a bag sooner?’
"We’re not going home yet. Head straight to Century Plaza."
Cecelia had already set the destination in her phone’s navigation. ’Why the sudden change of plans?’
’Besides, what are we going to do at Century Plaza this late at night?’
Damien Vaughn didn’t answer. He just casually picked up his phone and turned it on.
He was the rich one, this was his car, and Candy was still at his house. For now, Cecelia could only go along with him.
Around ten o’clock that night, the two of them arrived at Century Plaza.
"Mr. Vaughn, we’re here."
Damien Vaughn glanced outside. "Get out of the car."
"You’re going shopping this late?"
"Mhm."
Cecelia really couldn’t be bothered to go with him. "I’ll stay here. You should be quick, so I’ll just wait in the car."
Damien Vaughn unbuckled his seatbelt. He’d been about to say, ’How can you not come if I’m buying you a bag?’ But on second thought, a surprise would be nice too.
"Alright."
He’d had someone call the boutique in advance. It was now brightly lit, with all the sales associates waiting for him.
When Damien Vaughn walked in, everyone greeted him with the utmost respect and then followed along behind him.
This was the first time in his life Damien Vaughn had ever set foot in such a store, and the first time he had ever bought a woman a handbag.
He didn’t understand the patterns, couldn’t make sense of the designs, and couldn’t begin to fathom a woman’s taste. After a full lap around the store, he still couldn’t make up his mind.
"Show me your best-selling models—the ones most sought-after by young women."
The associate quickly pointed them out. "This one, this one, and this one. Also this model, and this one. These are all models that are perennially sold out and highly coveted worldwide. We just happen to have them in stock."
"A model like this one, or this one, is more of a classic. Better suited for a collection."
"If you look at this one and this one, they have a more professional feel and are very popular with career women."
Damien Vaughn swept his hand out. "Wrap up every single one you just mentioned."
Cecelia gave Doris Morton a call to ask how she was doing after getting home.
She hadn’t expected him to be finished in the short time it took to make a single phone call, but Damien Vaughn was already walking out.
He was followed by several of the sales associates, each carrying elegant gift boxes.
This...
The group quickly reached the car. Damien Vaughn got into the passenger seat and had them hand the boxes in one by one.
"Alright, President Vaughn, we’ll be on our way. We hope to see you again soon. Goodbye~"
In an instant, all the empty space between the driver’s and passenger’s seats was crammed full.
Only then did Cecelia see the brand name on the boxes: CNKT.
It was a globally renowned luxury brand, particularly famous for its handbags.
She’d heard that even their most basic, entry-level bag cost over ten thousand, with others ranging from tens of thousands to several million.



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