Maeve's eyes were filled with confusion. "Mr. McDaniel, did you just...?"
"Go to sleep," Byron threatened. He pulled the blanket over her and left.
Maeve reached out from under the blanket and touched the top of her head, a confused expression on her face. She thought, Did he just kiss me? It must have been an accident, right? He takes advantage of me every time. Why would he let me off so easily this time? But Maeve was very sleepy and didn't dwell on it long. Soon, she fell asleep.
In the kitchen, Byron poured warm soup from a small pot into a bowl and slowly sipped it. Maeve was exceptionally talented at making soup; no matter the kind, it was always delicious.
The next morning, Maeve woke up and went to wash. Entering the bathroom, she saw Byron shaving in front of the mirror, white foam on his chin. Even while shaving, his superior looks made him seem to have stepped out of a painting.
She found it strange and couldn't help but glance at him several times.
Byron glanced over. "Why? Never seen a man shave before?"
Maeve nodded. "I've never seen it before."
"Want to try?" Byron asked lazily.
"Try?" Maeve looked at him in surprise. "Don't tell me you want me to..."
"Why? Scared?"
Maeve wanted to refuse, but blurted out, "Who says I'm scared?"
She was a little vexed, but seeing Byron's teasing gaze, she didn't want him to laugh. Boldly taking the razor, she said, "Lower your head, or I won't be able to reach you."
Byron impatiently raised his eyebrows. Instead of lowering his head, he wrapped his hands around her slender waist, lifted her, and placed her on the sink's edge. Her long legs dangled. Maeve's eyes widened. Before she could react, she was at eye level with Byron. She saw a faint smile in his eyes.
He let go of her waist and asked calmly, "Will this do?"
Maeve's eyelashes fluttered. The warmth of his palms lingered on her waist, making her ears heat up. "You don't have to do this..." she muttered, then held his face and placed the razor near his jaw. She'd never done this before, but after watching, she remembered how he did it. "If something's wrong, remind me," she said worriedly.
"Okay," Byron replied lazily.
Her shaving movements were light and careful. In the mirror's reflection, Byron's hands were on the sink on either side of her. Her upper body leaned slightly toward him, making it look like he was hugging her.
Byron lowered his eyes, looking at Maeve lazily. His thin lips curled up slightly. "Is this your first time shaving a man?"
Maeve nodded. "Aren't you afraid I'll...?"
Before Maeve could finish, her wrist shook, and blood appeared on his chin.
Maeve's expression changed. She grabbed a towel and pressed it on the wound. "I'm sorry. I'm too nervous." Frustration in her eyes, she returned the razor. "You should do it yourself. I can't..."
If Maeve had known this would happen, she wouldn't have been so curious.
Byron looked at her guilty expression and said calmly, "It's just a small cut, I'm not that fragile. But you cut me. You should pay me back."
Maeve stared at him, dazed. He'd asked her to try, and now wanted payback.
Byron pondered. "Help me shave for the next month."
Maeve looked at him. Byron casually raised his chin. "Continue. Don't dawdle."
"It's just a mistake. It's not..."
"Are you joking? I cut you. You know I'm not good at it..." Maeve clenched her fingers. Her heart felt numb. Her parents often said they'd only give her one chance; failure in middle or high school meant working until marriage. Maeve was terrified. She studied hard, afraid of making a mistake. Later, her brother, Horace, failed his high school entrance exam, but their parents comforted him, saying they were rich enough to continue his education. Only then did Maeve realize she was the only one without a second chance.
Therefore, any failure now meant losing the courage to try again.
Maeve bit her tongue, trying to calm down. She picked up the razor. This time, her heart beat faster than before. After about ten minutes, she put down her sore arm and looked at Byron's clean face. "Alright, what do you think?"
Byron glanced at the mirror. "Barely passable. You still need to improve."
His remark chased away Maeve's complicated feelings. She threw the razor to him. "Then you'd better pray my skills improve drastically next month, so I don't give you more cuts."
Jumping down from the sink, her legs went weak from being in the same position too long, and she fell toward Byron.
Byron hooked his arm around her waist and saw her lips brushing his chest. He pushed her away. "Stand properly," he said in a low voice.
Byron wondered why she was always so close. It wasn't the closeness he minded, but her inability to satisfy his desire after arousing it. He'd never seen such an unreasonable woman.
After being pushed away, Maeve steadied herself against the wall. She was a little depressed. "My legs were numb. I didn't do it on purpose." She didn't know why he overreacted. After washing, Maeve looked at Byron's chin. The cut wasn't bleeding, but was red. "Would you like a Band-Aid?"
Byron's handsome face was cold as he ate breakfast without looking up. "You want me to stick that ridiculous thing on my face?"
Maeve was speechless. She didn't know why a Band-Aid was ridiculous.
After breakfast, Byron picked up his watch. "Remember to eat the cakes in the fridge. I'm going to the company."
"Cakes?" Maeve thought of last night's phone call. "Did you bring them home from the company party?" She didn't know one could take home cakes from a party.
Byron didn't tell her they were specially made by a chef from his villa, formerly of a Michelin restaurant. He thought she'd stop coveting desserts at other parties after tasting these cakes.
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