Was she actually looking at him?

She had clearly been looking at Rosemary. But since he and Rosemary were sitting in the same direction, glancing at his grandmother didn't look much different from glancing at him. That must be why he misunderstood.

Since the damage was done, Arianna decided not to correct him. Instead, she seized the moment. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Go ahead."

Arianna repeated the conversation she’d just had with Rosemary, laying it all out for him. She was terrified of him getting the wrong idea, so she explained the reasons for postponing the wedding in excruciating detail, even outlining the company's current organizational structure to show she meant business.

"You don't need to negotiate this with me," Maxwell said.

His voice was low and steady, his gaze unreadable as he watched her. Arianna’s heart skipped a beat; she had a sinking feeling this wouldn't go well. After all, given the massive scale of King Enterprises, it simply wasn't practical for the heir to the King family to get married without a whisper, let alone a proper wedding.

She was just about to suggest a compromise when Maxwell’s calm eyes crinkled at the corners. A slow, lopsided grin tugged at his lips, his voice dropping to a warm, intoxicating hum. "Whatever you want."

"It's our family, Arianna. Mrs. King makes the calls."

Arianna stared at him, dumbfounded. "You... you're actually okay with this?"

"Mhm."

Maxwell still held the bedsheet, but his eyes were locked onto her. "Whenever you want to tie the knot, that's when I'll marry you. Everything is up to you. I’ll cooperate unconditionally."

Arianna stood there, rooted to the spot, feeling as though she’d completely lost the ability to process reality. His gaze was like a deep, still lake, wrapping her in a warm embrace that dissolved all her anxieties and fears. Under his gentle, unwavering stare, she could hear her own heart hammering against her ribs.

If this keeps up, Arianna thought, I might actually fall for him hopelessly one day.

The way he carried himself—the effortless charm, those eyes that were naturally full of longing, the way he looked at her with such singular, intense focus—it was all just too much.

The next afternoon, they packed the car to drive back to London.

Before they left, Rosemary pressed a thick red envelope into each of their hands, wishing them a lifetime of fiery, passionate love. Perhaps it was for the sake of the good omen, but for the first time ever, Maxwell didn’t deflect; he took the envelope with uncharacteristic obedience. "Thank you, Rosemary."

Inside the car, Maxwell had just buckled his seatbelt, but before he could start the engine, a slender wrist reached toward him. Arianna’s pale, delicate fingers pinched a red envelope, and she said, soft and shy, "You can have mine, too."

Maxwell froze, turning his head.

Arianna sat in the passenger seat, her skin glowing, her features vibrant and moving. She stared at him without blinking, a faint, playful smile tugging at the corners of her eyes. Sunlight spilled over her shoulder, casting dancing shadows across her face.

At this critical moment, Maxwell’s emotional intelligence seemed to take a nosedive.

He sat there, stunned, and asked like a complete blockhead, "Why are you giving it to me?"

Arianna: "..."

In truth, she couldn't explain it herself. She just thought the way he had accepted that red envelope from his grandmother was incredibly endearing—a side of him she had never seen before, devoid of his usual arrogance or detachment.

She felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to give him her own. She hadn’t thought about the *why*—she just acted on instinct. But she hadn't expected such a dense question in response, and she was at a loss for words.

She couldn't exactly say, *You looked so cute just now, I wanted to see you take another one.* That would be like treating him like a monkey at the zoo.

And yet, Maxwell had already killed the engine. He leaned back against his seat, propping his head on his hand, observing her with a look of intense, amused scrutiny, as if he wouldn't let her off the hook until she gave him a proper answer.

Arianna: "..."

She bit the bullet, standing her ground with stubborn pride. "I just wanted to give it to you. Is that such a crime?"

Maxwell didn't respond. Instead, a gentle, simmering warmth bloomed in his eyes.

"You don't want it?" Arianna raised an eyebrow, waving the envelope. "Fine, keep it. I'm taking it back."

She started to pull her hand away, but he stopped her midway. He caught her wrist, and with a swift, confident motion, he plucked the envelope from her fingers, his smile deepening. "How could I turn down a gift from Mrs. King?"

Arianna gave a soft, indignant huff.

His other hand was still clasped around her wrist. The skin where his thumb brushed against her pulsed with his body heat, sending a shiver of electricity straight through her. She pulled her arm back, careful to keep her composure.

Maxwell chuckled, letting go of her wrist and pretending not to notice the tips of her ears turning a deep shade of pink. He shifted gears, both literally and figuratively. "Is the AC alright for you?"

"It's fine."

Maxwell murmured an affirmative, reached over to ruffle her hair, and finally started the engine. "Let’s go. Let’s head home."

*Back to the home that belongs to both of us.*

In that moment, Arianna felt like she finally understood the subtext.

The entire drive back, Maxwell was in an impossibly good mood. He kept replaying the image of her handing him that envelope, her eyes locked onto his, over and over in his mind. He loved her sudden, inexplicable acts of favoritism. And he loved, even more, the way she looked at him as if he were the only person in the world.