Jarrett Todd, dressed in a sleek black outfit, his short hair and sunglasses partially obscuring his face, shot Byron a teasing grin. "Oh? Did I miss something?"

Byron frowned slightly, glancing toward the bar. Maeve was laughing and chatting with the bartender. Her off-the-shoulder dress, a rare sight, showcased her flawless skin, and her red lips curved into a bright, captivating smile. Amid the club's noisy, heated atmosphere, she was strikingly beautiful. Byron shot a quick, cold glance at Maeve before turning away. His voice was icy. "She's got nothing to do with me. Got it?"

Ray smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "A lovers' spat, huh? I've only met her twice, but I could tell she's got a thing for you from the last time at the hospital."

"Wait, who's got a thing for Byron?" Jarrett asked, leaning in curiously.

Ray, always eager for gossip, couldn't resist. Ignoring Byron's icy stare, he began to fill Jarrett in. But just as he started, a commotion erupted downstairs.

Ray glanced down and frowned. "Uh-oh, Byron, looks like your girl's getting hassled by Fred Curtis."

Byron's expression darkened. "I told you she's got nothing to do with me. Do I need to throw you over the balcony to make that clear?"

Ray immediately mimed zipping his lips shut.

The commotion downstairs was hard to ignore. Fred, a familiar face at the Starlight Pub, was known for his wealth and his relentless pursuit of beautiful women. He showered them with lavish attention and gifts, making it nearly impossible for them to refuse him. But once he'd won them over, he'd ditch them within days, usually with a hefty breakup fee. He was a notorious player.

With Maeve now in Fred's sights, the other patrons eagerly anticipated the drama.

"Excuse me, beautiful," Fred said, sliding into the seat next to Maeve with a charming smile. "Care to join me for dinner?"

Despite his reputation, Fred was handsome, with a bright, sunny demeanor and a dimpled smile that could melt hearts.

Maeve, feeling a bit fuzzy from the drinks, barely glanced up. "I've already eaten; I'm not hungry."

Fred chuckled. "Well, I'm a bit hungry. How about joining me? I'll make it worth your while—100 thousand dollars for one dinner."

The crowd gasped. "100 thousand dollars for a dinner? This guy is pulling out all the stops!" Maeve, however, wasn't impressed. She frowned at Fred. "Need company for a meal? What are you, a toddler?" She recognized his advances and wasn't interested.

Fred, unfazed, leaned closer. "Maybe I wasn't clear—200 thousand dollars for one dinner. What do you say?" He was convinced no one could refuse such an offer.

Maeve, now thoroughly fed up, slammed her glass on the bar. "Even if it were 2 million dollars, I wouldn't have dinner with you. Feeling lonely? Go home and find your mom, okay?"

The crowd erupted in laughter. Fred's face twisted with fury. "What the hell did you just say? Don't push your luck, lady!"

"Hey, Fred," came a lazy voice from the balcony.

Fred looked up and saw Ray, his face paling considerably. Everyone knew that if Ray and Jarrett were at Starlight, Byron was sure to be nearby.

"Mr. George, how can I help you?" Fred straightened up, his tone instantly respectful.

Ray rested his chin on his hand, his gaze cool. "Just a heads-up. Starlight's customers aren't your playthings. Got it?"

Fred's face went pale, but it wasn't Ray that unsettled him—it was the message. Everyone knew that Byron was the real power behind Starlight Pub. No matter how influential the patrons were, they all had to follow his rules. Ray's words were clearly a message from Byron. "I understand. I'll leave right away." Fred scrambled off, looking like a scalded cat.

Ray smirked and turned to Byron. "He's gone now. And weren't you just saying she had nothing to do with you? So why'd you step in?"

Byron swirled his drink softly. His tone was cool and detached. "I'm just enforcing Starlight's rules."

Ray chuckled, unconvinced. Fred had hit on plenty of girls before, and Byron had never bothered to intervene. But this time was different. Something was definitely up.

Ray was about to say more when Jarrett interrupted. "Save your breath. He's already gone."

Sure enough, when Ray turned around, Byron's seat was empty. Scanning the room, he saw Byron already downstairs. Maeve was slumped over the bar, clearly intoxicated. The bartender had nudged her a few times but couldn't rouse her. One man, pretending to help, reached out to grope Maeve. But before he could touch her, a long, strong hand clamped down on his wrist. Byron's eyes were icy as he looked down. "Back off," he said, his voice low and menacing. The man's face went pale. "Y-Yes, Mr. McDaniel, I'll leave right now!"

Byron's gaze lingered on Maeve's flushed cheeks as she slept peacefully, completely defenseless. A vein throbbed at his temple. "Stupid woman," he thought.

In the lounge on the third floor, as Byron laid Maeve on the couch, she stirred awake. Her face was deeply flushed, the effects of the alcohol giving her eyes a hazy glow. The tip of her nose was pink, making her look enticing. Their eyes locked, and the air between them crackled.

"You..." Maeve blinked, her gaze fixed on his handsome face inches from hers. Fueled by alcohol, she yanked on his tie, pulling him closer. "Why are you so annoying? I was asleep, and now you're showing up in my dreams!" she shouted into his ear. Byron leaned down, her alcohol-laced breath brushing against his ear. "Who are you calling annoying?" he said, brushing her hand away with irritation.

"Whoever's been yelling at me," Maeve mumbled, leaning into his chest. "You're like a dog biting the hand that feeds you..."

Byron's face darkened. Did she just compare me to a dog? he thought, his irritation mounting. Striding over to the bed, he unceremoniously tossed her onto it. "Ouch!" Maeve winced. "That hurts!"

"Good. Hope it hurts a lot," Byron said coldly, standing over her with arms crossed and a frosty gaze. "How desperate are you for attention, coming to a place like this to pick up guys before your divorce is even final?" His words were laced with sharp sarcasm. Maeve, still groggy from the alcohol, shot back without hesitation. "Yeah, I came here to pick up men. So what's your excuse? Trying to pick up women?" Byron's eyes grew icy. "Don't you dare compare me to you."

The final paragraph is removed as it seems to be a website advertisement unrelated to the story.