Maeve stopped short. Just as she was about to turn around, Byron placed a hand on her shoulder, casting a cold glance at Maura. His voice dropped, icy and low. "Tim, her husband. Do you need something?"

Maura's eyes widened in disbelief. She thought, 'No way! This man, who looks even more handsome than a celebrity, is supposed to be Maeve's broke husband?' As she watched them walk away, Maura nearly ground her teeth in frustration, thinking, 'So what if he's good-looking? You can't live on good looks alone!'

Leaving the store, Maeve recalled Byron's expression when he showed up and cautiously asked, "Did you hear what we were talking about earlier?" Byron's face remained unreadable. Maeve fiddled with her juice cup, trying to reassure him. "There's no shame in any honest job. As long as you're earning a living through hard work, there's nothing lowly about it."

Byron paused, turning to look at her. "You're really open-minded."

He thought, It's easy to say things like that, but actually living by those words is a different story.

Back at the apartment, Maeve couldn't bring herself to throw away the juice, so she replaced the old straw with a fresh one. Just as she was about to take a sip, she noticed Byron's cold gaze fixed on her.

She asked, "What's wrong?"

"Maeve," Byron's eyes flicked to the discarded straw in the trash, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Are you grossed out by me or something?"

He thought, I haven't even looked down on her, but she dares to act like she is above me?

"What?" Maeve froze, confused. "Given our relationship, is there something wrong with me doing this?" She didn't want to give him another excuse to accuse her of imagining some ridiculous indirect kiss.

Byron was momentarily speechless. He stared at her for a few seconds before turning and heading toward the guest room, tossing a cool remark over his shoulder. "Drinking juice after working out—you just wasted all four laps you ran!" With that, he shut the door.

Maeve stood there, stunned. The juice suddenly didn't seem so appealing. She thought, He said that on purpose, didn't he?

The next evening at the Starlight Pub, the sharp clink of billiard balls echoed through the fourth-floor pool room.

"Byron, I heard from Archer that you handed the Yrulsall project over to Mr. Graves!" Ray drawled, leaning against the pool table. "When did you start doing charity work? The Graves family's tiny operation isn't even in the same league as the McDaniel Group."

Byron lined up his shot, his long arm flexing smoothly as he struck the ball with precision. "What's it to you?" he asked, his tone unhurried.

"I'm not complaining, but something doesn't add up."

Jarrett walked over, laughing. "You just can't go a day without gossiping, huh? You'd be better off as a tabloid reporter instead of wasting your talents as a doctor."

"You don't get it," Ray said, putting on a mock-serious face. "Being a good doctor requires a spirit of curiosity and investigation—that's how you advance."

Byron raised an eyebrow. "Jarrett's got a point—you might as well change careers."

He thought, All you do these days is focus on digging up gossip about me.

Just then, someone knocked on the door.

"Come in."

The manager entered, respectfully addressing Byron. "Mr. McDaniel, there's a young lady downstairs asking if we're hiring bartending apprentices. I wanted to check with you first."

Byron didn't look up. "An apprentice?"

"Yes, she says she wants to learn bartending."

"Since when did Starlight Pub turn into a training school?" A cold gleam flashed in Byron's eyes. "Tell her to leave."

The manager broke into a nervous sweat. "Understood. I'll let Ms. Reese know right away."

He thought, If I'd known he'd react like this, I wouldn't have asked. That is terrifying.

Byron thought, Ms. Reese?

"Hold on," Byron's eyes narrowed. "What's her name?"

"I think it's Maeve."

Byron thought, So it's her.

His eyes darkened, and he headed for the door. From the fourth-floor balcony, he had a clear view of Maeve sitting at the bar downstairs. She was dressed in a light pink off-shoulder dress, her long hair cascading over one shoulder. Compared to the sultry vibe of the bar, her outfit was almost demure and refreshing.

Byron's expression turned even more severe as he called her. Maeve saw the call and moved to a quieter spot before answering.

"Where are you?" His deep voice was icy, laced with irritation.

Maeve glanced around. "I'm at a bar, taking care of something. Why?"

"Did you learn your lesson last time? Go home. Now." His tone left no room for argument.

She whispered, Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. Thus, the manager is already asking the boss for me. I can't just leave now. Maeve remembered running into Byron at this bar before and nervously scanned the area. Not seeing him, she exhaled in relief. Why am I so tense? It's not like I'm doing anything wrong.

Upstairs, Byron's gaze turned icy as he stared at the ended call. He called over the manager. "Go down there and turn her away. Now."

"Yes, sir. I'll handle it right away."

Ray and Jarrett, who had overheard, exchanged glances. Ray let out a low whistle. Jarrett grinned. "The little lady wants to learn bartending, huh? Why not just let her? It's your bar anyway. Wouldn't that make things more convenient for your little romance?"

"Byron's probably worried she'll run into Fred again," Ray continued. "Didn't you see how protective he got last time!"

Byron shot them a frosty glare. "If your eyes are that bad, go see a doctor. Who's being protective of her?"

He thought, What about her would even make her worth protecting?

Back at Pinehurst Apartments, Maeve assumed Byron would be home. He wasn't. She wondered, Why did he insist I come back right away?

She switched on the living room lights and sat down. The manager had told her the bar wasn't hiring female staff, so she had to give up. She had really hoped to pick up a new skill.

As she opened her sketchpad, she heard the front door click open. Byron walked in, his dark trench coat making him look even more distant. "You're back?" Maeve looked up, confused. "Did you call me earlier because you needed something?"

"Nothing important." Byron's tone was cold as he set down a cup of juice and turned to head back to his room.

Maeve blinked at the juice. She thought, Did he seriously make me come home just to drink juice?

"Wait!" Maeve gathered her courage. "Do you have a moment right now?"

Byron stopped and looked at her with a "get to the point" expression.

Maeve hesitated. "I was planning to buy some bartending tools, but it's getting late. If it's not too much trouble—"

Byron frowned. "Why are you learning bartending?"

Maeve pointed to the sketchpad. "For my designs."