The Heir's Secret Bride

Byron guided Maeve back to the bedroom before stepping out. Less than half an hour later, he returned with a plate of spaghetti.

The aroma was mouthwatering. The pasta was tender, drenched in a zesty tomato sauce, and finished with a sprinkle of Parmesan and fresh basil. It was simple, satisfying, and absolutely delicious. "Wow. ver took you for such a great cook." Maeve said, her voice full of surprise. "This spaghetti is fantastic. Thanks."

Byron leaned back against the table, arms crossed, his expression as unreadable as ever. "Just shut up and eat. Don't waste time talking"

If she hadn't looked so pitiful and defeated, Byron wouldn't have lifted a finger to cook. No one else could've convinced him to go to such lengths.

But Maeve wasn't put off by his cold demeanor. She could see right through his tough-guy act. If he were truly as indifferent as he liked to pretend, he would have just shrugged her off and let her fend for herself.

"Anyway, than

thanks for coming to my rescue," Maeve said with a smile, her dimples adding a delicate charm to her pale face, like a rose blooming after a rain. held on her his brows slightly furrowed and his brown eyes darker.

He wondered if Maeve's gratitude was just a way to flirt with him. "No need to thank me," he said coolly. Just think of it as repaying the favor you did for me"

Maeve said

said nothing more. After finishing her meal and taking some stomach medicine she found in the house, she felt a bit better and was even able to scroll through her phone. She hadn't been to the office in two days, and even though she was on leave, her manager. Piers, had still called her out in the group chat, throwing shade about her absence. His message basically screamed that anyone thinking of jumping ship was just slacking off and coasting through Maeve rolled her eyes, shaking off the comments, and opened a message from a colleague.

The message read: [We're having a department dinner this Friday to say goodbye to you. You've always had something come up before, but since we've all worked together, you should definitely come this time, right?]

The invitation was worded in such a way that turning it down would feel downright rude. Her colleagues had only been giving her grief because Jeff had told them to.

Now that they thought she was leaving for good, she wouldn't have to put up with them anymore. One last gathering didn't seem like such a big deal.

After sending her reply, Maeve turned off her phone, ignoring the barrage of calls from her parents. She got out of bed and left the bedroom just as the front door swung open.

Byron walked in, followed by a group of workers in uniform.

"Mr. McDaniel, who are these people?" Maeve asked, confused.

"They're here to deliver a bed," Byron said, his tone steady as he directed the workers to move the new bed into the guest

room..

Maeve suddenly remembered that the furniture store had promised to deliver the bed, but it still hadn't arrived. The store n

must have forgotten my order," Maeve said, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Since you've already gotten a bed, I'll

cancel mine. I should pay for this one, though."

It felt a bit awkward that, after agreeing to support him, she was relying on him for something as basic as a bed.

Byron noticed her blushing and assumed she was disappointed about not sharing a bed with him in the future. He inwardly sneered, doubting whether she'd actually ordered a bed herself.

"No need to worry about it," Byron said. "This bed was pricey."

Maeve raised an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. It was just a bed-A few hundred bucks, maybe. But given his pay as a driver, it might have been a bit of a stretch for him.

She didn't even catch the logo on the side of the new bed, a symbol of a high-end furniture brand known for its custom-made luxury pieces. These beds were so exclusive that even if you had the cash, getting one was a whole different ball game. As additional furniture pieces were moved into the guest room, the space underwent a remarkable transformation.

The predominantly black-and-white, minimalist design of the furniture exuded a refined, understated luxury. What was once a plain room now radiated a sophisticated, elegant charm.

Maeve

herself.

was tempted to ask where Byron had bought the furniture. She'd never come across such stylish yet affordable pieces

"Are you finished with everything now?" she asked.

Byron, busy arranging his books on the shelf, glanced at her and, for once, responded, "Need something?"

"Not me, but your wound," Maeve replied, holding up t

first-a

t-aid kit. "It's time to change the dressing, isn't it?"

raised an eyebrow, surprised. "How do you know I haven't changed it yet?"

Byron

Maeve offered a light smile. Just a guess. You avoid the hospital and seem averse to letting others help. Plus, the wound's in a spot you can't easily reach on your own." Byron paused, his gaze growing thoughtful as he looked at her. The truth was, he'd been too busy to remember about the wound.

Once Maeve finished dressing and bandaging his wound, she asked, "It was healing well before, but now it's bleeding again. Have you been neglecting it lately?"

Anthony had already warned him about the same thing during a private visit. But with everything going on at the McDaniel Group, there was no time to relax and heal properly. Maeve didn't know the full story but smiled. I'll remind you next time. But you should take care of it yourself too. If this wound doesn't heal properly, it could cause problems down the line." The living room fell silent for

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moment. Byron narrowed his eyes, a half-smile tugging at his lips. "What kind of problems are we talking about?"

"Your... your waist, of course..." Maeve stammered, then immediately fell silent as she sensed the awkwardness in the air.

Byron gave a cold snort, leaning closer with his elbow propped on his knee. His gaze locked onto hers, and the soft light in the room accentuated the flush on her cheeks, making her look strikingly attractive, Seeing her reaction, he felt a sudden tightness in his throat and an unexpected urge.

Without thinking, he asked, "Are you interested in trying something with me?"

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