Chapter 489

Maeve stopped dressing. The memory of last night's bullying, her pleas for mercy ignored, burned her cheeks and set her teeth on edge. Without thinking, she denied it. "Not much. If he were a chef, I'd give him two and a half stars at most—below passing. It felt… weird, even if I was satisfied." Chefs' appearances weren't part of the evaluation. Only Maeve knew how many stars she'd deducted for his technology.

Bonnie, knowing Maeve well, heard the lie in her voice. She laughed heartily.

Embarrassed, Maeve fastened her buckle, stood, and reached for her phone on the table. Turning, she saw a tall figure leaning against the door. Her pupils dilated. Her phone slipped from her hand, falling to the carpet.

Byron stood there, arms crossed, in a white shirt and black pants. His collar was half-open, revealing attractive collarbones. He looked relaxed, harmless. That was, of course, before he heard Maeve's words.

Under his increasingly intense gaze, Maeve wanted to flee. She grabbed her shirt, her face burning crimson. "Why didn't you knock? Why stare at me while I changed? Are you a pervert?" She was flustered, guilty, tongue-tied.

Byron sneered. "I undressed you; what's the problem with watching you dress?"

"You…"

"My culinary skills are only two stars, huh?"

"No…"

"Need me to help you recall your crying and begging for mercy last night?"

On the other end of the line, Bonnie's face reddened; excitement almost made her scream. What a scene! Faster! She could… then the call ended abruptly.

Bonnie was shocked by the final, strange sound. An idea struck her, and she let out a wolf-like howl. It seems Maeve won't be appearing today. People in love are truly different! she thought.

Maeve was unaware of her best friend's unhealthy imagination. If she knew, she'd tell Bonnie she was overthinking. Even with Byron's exceptional strength, he couldn't have done anything to her after a night of intense struggle. However, her careless words had a price: swollen lips from his kisses.

After washing, Maeve sat at the table, eating a late lunch. Opposite her, Byron read work emails on a tablet, silver-framed glasses softening his usually sharp eyes. The only discordant note was a small red bite mark on his chin—Maeve's angry handiwork from the night before. He hadn't thought much of it then. Now…

Maeve guiltily bit into a cherry tomato. "Byron, still working today?"

"Yes," he replied without looking up. "Inspecting the technology base in an hour. Meeting at five."

"Then I'll help with your chin… replenish some powder?" Maeve pointed at the wound. "I bit a little too hard last night."

Byron finally looked up, a faint smile playing on his lips. "You know you bit hard last night?" He drew out the word "bite," imbuing it with unspoken meaning.

Maeve hated understanding. Her face flushed, her palms went numb, her grip on her fork unsteady. "You're shameless! Can't you be more reserved in broad daylight?"

"Implied meanings are part of your job description. I'm only responsible for enriching your content." Byron calmly said something instantly infuriating. He even sipped his coffee. Maeve's eyes widened—she understood again.

She was finished. Contaminated. Impure. All thanks to Byron.

Maeve felt frostbitten. Listlessly, she stuffed pasta into her mouth, her chewing movements expressing utter despair.

Byron glanced at her, his gaze following her puffed cheeks. His earlier depression eased slightly. This lasted until Maeve prepared to leave.

"Meeting last night's man?" Byron asked, narrowing his eyes.

Maeve planned to meet Bonnie, then see high school classmates. She couldn't tell Byron that. She nodded. I promised him we'd eat together. I can't break my word!

Byron almost laughed in frustration.

It turns out I shouldn't have let her sleep in. A day in bed would have been best. She wouldn't have the energy to go out and attract attention, he thought. "Alright, go." His tone was cold, the temperature around him plummeting.

Maeve clutched her purse and practically fled, fearing a change of heart. To Byron, she seemed eager to meet her childhood sweetheart. He was at a loss.

Outside the hotel, Bonnie was surprised by Maeve's swift exit. "Mr. McDaniel… isn't this a little fast?"

Maeve pinched her arm. "What are you thinking? We didn't do anything!"

"No way? Mr. McDaniel didn't sound like he was planning nothing on the phone. Could it be…" Bonnie touched her chin. "He's saving it for tonight?" Maeve's back trembled. "Why are your thoughts so unhealthy? Don't think about it. Get in the car."

She shoved Bonnie into a cab without explanation, cutting off her thoughts, then got in herself.

Their trip was fruitless. Exhausted, Maeve strolled with Bonnie, unwilling to waste more time on the inconclusive matter. Finding someone whose name and appearance she barely remembered was like searching for a needle in a haystack. Still, she was intensely curious about this person she'd once loved so passionately.

Unknowingly, Maeve reached her old Greenhaven house and paused.

"Maeve?" A familiar, pleasant male voice sounded.

Maeve turned, seeing Clem emerge from an alley. She was stunned. "Clem! What a coincidence. What are you doing here?" She glanced behind him, checking for yesterday's menacing entourage.

"Looking for someone." Clem touched the back of his neck, avoiding Maeve's gaze, looking at roadside plants.

Bonnie tugged Maeve's sleeve. "Who's that handsome man?"

Bonnie's description made Maeve laugh and cry. "That's Clem Holland, an old friend who lived next door when I was little. Clem, this is Bonnie Hancock, my best friend."