If this furniture were damaged, Maeve wouldn't be able to compensate Byron even if she sold everything she owned. What was Byron thinking, buying such expensive items?

After learning the furniture's value, Maeve's heart pounded—she certainly couldn't throw it away.

Was all this furniture? It was actually worth millions of dollars.

After moving everything into her new home, Maeve spent some time arranging and tidying. Her gaze fell on Byron's bed. What was the difference between a $4 million bed and a $400 bed?

Since Byron wasn't around, Maeve leaned back and sank into the soft bed. After enjoying the bed's comfort for a while, she felt sleepy. It was incredibly comfortable; she felt as if she were lying on a cloud. Her entire body relaxed. Furthermore, Maeve wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but after so long, there seemed to be a faint cedar scent—a fragrance unique to Byron—on the bed. It was subtle, but captivating.

Maeve lay there, feeling surrounded by his aura. She drifted into a daze. A ringing sound broke the silence: a call on Maeve's phone. Still dazed, she pulled out her phone and answered.

A handsome, indifferent face immediately filled the screen. Behind him was a tall floor-to-ceiling window, likely in his office. Maeve was momentarily stunned before realizing it was a video call.

"Where are you?" Byron asked in a deep voice.

Maeve sat up slightly, knowing he'd find out sooner or later. "I'm at the house I just rented," she said truthfully.

Byron frowned slightly. "I gave you two days to consider. I'm not asking you to rent a house and live elsewhere."

"I know, but I need a place of my own," Maeve said calmly. "Even if I leave your place, I can still stay there." Hearing the implication, Byron stared at her serious face for a moment and said calmly, "Come to my office later."

Maeve was puzzled. "Didn't you sign all the contracts?"

"What else did he want?" she wondered.

"You didn't ask for my opinions or take any measurements. Are you planning to make my suit from imagination?"

"Oh yes, I forgot. I'll go over right after I clean up here."

As she spoke, Maeve got up from the bed. The camera happened to show the bed's headboard. The extremely familiar pattern chosen by Byron caused him to raise an eyebrow. "This bed..." (The following sentence appears to be an advertisement and has been omitted.)

Maeve suddenly remembered the video call; she'd been answering it in bed. Her face flushed crimson.

Maeve wanted to explain, but Byron had already drawn a conclusion when she sat up. His eyes held mockery.

"Maeve, is my bed comfortable?" His voice was low and magnetic. He seemed to be doing it deliberately.

Byron watched Maeve's face redden and her eyes grow nervous. He chuckled softly. "We've only been apart for one night, and you miss me so much?" He wondered why she was actually lying on his bed. Was it a subtle message? He thought, 'It would have been better to have gone home with me last night. You never mean what you say.'

Maeve felt a rush of heat. Shame and anger filled her eyes.

"I'm not! I was just trying out this expensive bed. What's the difference between this and my bed? Don't misinterpret this."

"So, what did you find out?" Byron leaned forward slightly, a faint smile in his eyes. "Do you feel comfortable?"

Maeve thought about her earlier experience and muttered, "Comfortable."

"There's still a difference between four hundred dollars and four million dollars," she added.

The smile on Byron's face deepened. "Since you're comfortable, sleep more, in case you miss me too much." He realized she'd brought all his old furniture to her new home, meaning she'd reserved a room for him. He wondered why she claimed to dislike him and wanted a divorce.

"Which eye of yours suggests I'm thinking about you?" Maeve retorted.

"Both," Byron said slowly. "You can sleep now. Come find me when you wake up."

Maeve ended the video call. Byron had told her to sleep; of course, he wasn't being considerate—he was teasing her. Maeve ignored his suggestion. She washed her face, grabbed her bag, and left.

Upon reaching the top floor of the McDaniel Group, the female secretary greeted her with a smile. "Ms. Reese, Mr. McDaniel instructed that you can go straight to his office."

"Thank you," Maeve replied, knocking before entering the CEO's office.

Byron wasn't at his desk; he was on the sofa, reviewing documents.

"Hello, Mr. McDaniel," Maeve said professionally, approaching him. "Are you free now? I'll take your measurements."

Byron raised an eyebrow. She'd just slept in his bed, and now she was so formal?

"Sure." Byron set down the documents, stood, and let Maeve begin with the measuring tape and ruler, starting at his neck.

Standing behind him, her slender, soft fingers brushed against his Adam's apple, shoulders, and back, like a butterfly's fleeting touch. Byron felt her fingers fluttering against his skin. His brows furrowed; an unexplainable surge of heat coursed through him. His back tensed.

Maeve kept her head down, unaware of the darkness in Byron's eyes that seemed to want to consume her. After measuring his neck, she moved to the front to continue, asking a few more questions.

Byron answered absentmindedly, his gaze fixed on her fair fingers. The memory of her tending to him a few nights earlier flashed in his mind.

The next second, the measuring tape wrapped around his waist and gradually moved lower. Byron's breathing grew heavier; his Adam's apple bobbed.

He suddenly asked in a hoarse voice, "Did you measure other men like this?"

"No, no," Maeve replied nervously, reminding herself this was her job. Otherwise, she wouldn't do it well.

The coldness in Byron's eyes softened slightly until the measuring tape again reached a sensitive area. He let out a low, sexy snort, similar to the sounds he made in bed. Maeve recalled that night; her ears burned, and her fingers trembled. She lowered her head, unable to meet his gaze. Looking down, she saw the measuring tape had suddenly tightened.

Maeve looked up, meeting Byron's dark gaze. She felt trapped by a predator about to devour her.

"Mr. McDaniel, could you please cooperate and control your reaction?" Maeve said seriously, "This is sexual harassment in the workplace."

"Sexual harassment?" Byron asked, a hint of interest in his eyes. "You're quite good at playing."