Chapter 488

If Clem heard that, Maeve thought, he'd probably have to wear sunglasses to talk to her freely in the future. She complained inwardly, but answered, "He's an older friend from my neighborhood when I was young."

"Oh," Byron narrowed his eyes. His cold tone was ambiguous as he said, "Childhood sweethearts." His voice was as calm as the sea, without any fluctuation. Yet, his palm, gripping the back of Maeve's neck, shifted between light and heavy pressure, silently venting his dissatisfaction.

"No..." Maeve's voice was muffled. His grip weakened her. She wanted to avoid his hand, but couldn't escape his strong hold. She felt like a pitiful, helpless, immobile cat.

"He's just a childhood playmate. His family moved away within two years, and we lost contact. We met again two years ago abroad. He helped me a lot. We happened to meet here tonight, so we chatted," she explained. Clem had helped them when they were stuck. Only then did their childhood friendship rekindle. However, Clem was busy, mostly in Chris Continent, so they rarely saw each other.

"A past crush and a childhood sweetheart, Ms. Reese. Your love life is so rich," Byron lowered his eyes, asking casually, "When will you teach me?"

"I've said we're not childhood sweethearts," Maeve said unhappily. Suddenly, she looked up at him. "Byron, are you… jealous?" Every word he'd spoken reeked of jealousy; she'd just been too slow to notice.

His eyes darkened at her words. He seemed to sense her pushing her luck. He released her neck, slowly straightening. The pressure lessened as he distanced himself. Maeve stared intently, searching his expression for a clue. But Byron quickly masked his true emotions, replacing them with a casual expression.

"Interesting," Byron retorted. "You're my fiancée, yet you're in close contact with other men. Do you think I don't have the right to verify that?"

Maeve pursed her lips. "So you're not jealous?"

"Nonsense."

"That's good," Maeve pretended to be relieved. "I'm having dinner with him tomorrow. I was afraid you'd be jealous. Since you're so generous, I'm not worried." Byron looked at her deeply, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly. "Up to you. I have no objections."

'You really don't mind?' Maeve thought, a little disappointed. She'd expected some jealousy, but she was overthinking. 'If the same thing happened to Molly… would he still be so calm?'

Byron led a dazed Maeve to the penthouse suite. She came to her senses to find the bedroom door closed and the ceiling lights off, only the bedside lamp casting an ambiguous dim light. She sat by the bed, watching Byron undo his tie and approach. Her heart beat faster.

"What are… you doing?" Maeve's ears burned as she stuttered.

Byron remained unsmiling, his eyes extremely indifferent, contrasting sharply with his unhurried movements as he removed his shirt, revealing his abdominal muscles. It was as if a lofty immortal had entered the mortal world, bound by the chains of love. His lustful eyes, like hooks, fixed on Maeve. He wanted to pull her into the abyss and sink with her.

Maeve was shocked by the intensity in his eyes. She didn't have time to admire his physique before turning to run. She felt he might kill her on the bed if she didn't escape.

As she turned, her head went blank. Byron grabbed her ankle, pulling her before him. His hoarse voice held a chilling coldness. "Since you gave him time during the day, I want one night. It's not too much, is it?" Before she could protest, she was pulled into his web of desire. The more she struggled, the faster she sank.

In her daze, she heard her phone ringing on the floor, unreachable. Her heart pounded. Her slender fingertips left marks on Byron's back as she cried, "No… no more…" She cried and bit his shoulder; the taste of blood filled her mouth.

Byron's low breathing sounded in her ear. He said meaningfully, "You don't want it? Then get up yourself."

Maeve's tear-wet eyelashes trembled. She looked at him aggrievedly, enduring the discomfort as she trembled free of his arms. He lowered his head and kissed her lips, silencing her. The corners of her eyes reddened.

"I lied to you," Byron said. Maeve had been deceived again, proving how untrustworthy men's words sometimes were.

The night sky outside the floor-to-ceiling window lightened, the sunlight brightening.

Maeve slept until afternoon. Hundreds of missed calls and exploded chat messages greeted her. Bonnie almost called the police. She glanced at the time, cursing Byron inwardly, then called Bonnie to assure her she was safe.

When Bonnie heard Byron had taken her away last night, she was silent a moment, then laughed evilly. "You were taken away by Mr. McDaniel for the entire night, waking up only now… So, how intense was it? Was the hotel bed okay?"

Maeve's face flushed. Last night's events flashed through her mind, burning her.

"I don't even know what's wrong with him," she complained. "The conflict wasn't resolved, yet he still had the mood. Can all men separate their emotions from their bodies?"

"Hard to say," Bonnie replied. "Mr. McDaniel is obsessed with cleanliness and doesn't get close to women. The probability of him sleeping with an unemotional woman is low."

Maeve was stunned. 'Is that so?' Bonnie then asked mischievously, "So, how's Mr. McDaniel in bed? Satisfied?"