Arianna turned her head only to see Gemma Bennett, her face flushed with excitement.

Arianna paused, blinked, and asked, "What are you doing?"

Gemma bit her lip, frantically trying to suppress whatever wild fantasy was playing out in her head. "N-nothing. Nothing at all."

"Let's go. I'll drop you off."

"No, no," Gemma refused, waving her hands dismissively. "There’s a subway station right there. I’ll just take the train; it stops right by my front door."

Arianna wouldn't have it. "I can drive you straight to your front door, too."

"..." Fearing she would derail the couple's progress, Gemma bolted toward the subway entrance. "I’m serious, I’m fine! We’ll catch up later—and remember, you owe me a full report! Don't you dare forget!"

Arianna stood there, speechless.

Watching Gemma disappear down the subway stairs, Arianna turned back and pulled the car door open. "I guess we’re heading back, then."

A warm, velvety voice dropped from above her. "Reporting what?"

Arianna’s hand froze on the door handle. Her heart gave a violent, heavy thud.

Maxwell King leaned one hand against the car frame, effectively caging her in against his chest. He lowered his gaze to meet hers. "Hmm? Mrs. King, what exactly are you reporting to her?"

The street was quiet, save for the hum of the shops still open for business, casting a glow that turned the sidewalk as bright as day. Trapped in that narrow, quiet corner, Arianna felt engulfed by his crisp, clean scent. Her heart was racing like a drum.

Maxwell looked down at her, his expression lazy and unbothered, his gaze drifting slowly from her eyes down to her lips.

Arianna’s eyelids twitched. Afraid he might actually try to kiss her right there, she pushed lightly against his chest and whispered, "Let's... let's get in the car first."

Maxwell watched her for a moment longer, then let out a low chuckle.

He stepped back, pulled the passenger door open for her, and handed her his bubble tea.

Arianna reached for it, but he pulled back at the last second, his eyes crinkling as he teased, "You aren’t allowed to drink this. You bought it for me."

In reality, he was just worried about her drinking too much cold liquid.

Arianna was both stunned and amused. "Maxwell, are you being serious right now? That’s so childish."

"Doesn't matter. That cup is mine."

"You're a child!"

Once they were in the car, Maxwell didn't pull away immediately. His pale, lean wrists rested lazily on the steering wheel, the black-and-white contrast creating an aura of restrained desire. He leaned back, tilting his head to look at her with an amused, watchful gaze. He hadn't let it go. "Arianna, what are you reporting?"

Arianna: "..."

How was he still hung up on that? Was he actually going to make a scene out of this?

She chewed on a tapioca pearl, fumbling for a lie. "We... we have an agreement to share updates on our work."

"You don't even work at the same company."

Arianna kept her expression perfectly blank. "True, but we can still strive for collective progress."

Maxwell: "..."

Maxwell turned his head to hide a smile, pretending he didn't see through her pathetic excuse. "You know, you’re allowed to share our daily life with your friends, too."

Arianna whipped her head around to look at him.

Maxwell’s expression was earnest, as if he were genuinely offering a suggestion, without a hint of irony. He even added, "I share our daily life with my friends all the time."

"Oh?" Arianna looked surprised. "Our stuff? Like what?"

"Things like when we went to the Wildlife Kingdom, our trip to Wonder Gardens, the flowers and cake you got for me, or the restaurants you booked."

Arianna found herself at a loss for words. Was he sure that was "sharing" and not "showing off"?

"And your friends... what do they say?"

"He’s very happy for me."

Arianna remained skeptical. "Is that so?"

Maxwell said it with total confidence. "He probably feels happy just seeing how happy we are."

Arianna: "..."

Was that really it? Why did something feel so off about that?

Midway home, Maxwell took a call. After a brief conversation, he turned to Arianna. "Are you free tomorrow?"

Tomorrow was Sunday. Arianna had originally planned to spend the entire day rotting in bed at home. Hearing the question, she instinctively answered, "I’m free. Why?"

Maxwell asked in a measured, calm tone, "Would you like to accompany me to a gala tomorrow?"

"A gala?"

"Yes," Maxwell said patiently. "Would you be willing?"

Arianna nodded.

Maxwell smiled, then turned back to the phone. "Alright, see you tomorrow."

From the other end of the line, Spencer Miller’s shocked voice echoed through the car. "You actually had to ask your wife before you decided to go to a gala?"

"I didn't 'have' to ask," Maxwell corrected, his mood visibly brightened. "I invited my wife to accompany me."

Spencer was beyond baffled. "It’s just a gala. If she doesn't go, does that mean you aren't going?"

Maxwell sounded even more reasonable. "If my wife isn't going, what’s the point of me going alone?"

Spencer: "..."

That made sense. It made perfect sense!

Being single in the middle of the night clearly made you an easier target for emotional collateral damage.

...

The call was hung up without a shred of mercy.

Arianna realized too late that she might have agreed a little too quickly. She wasn't at all prepared for a gala. She had just wanted to spend more time with Maxwell and had agreed in a daze. Hearing him refer to her as "my wife"—it was impossible to deny how happy it made her. It felt like a stone being dropped into a calm lake, sending ripples spreading in every direction.

Arianna felt the corners of her lips lift. She turned to look out the window, pretending to be nonchalant.

A moment later, she remembered something. "The gala tomorrow?"

Maxwell, busy navigating the traffic, replied, "Yes, what about it?"

"I haven't picked out an outfit yet."

"That’s fine," Maxwell said, looking cheerful. His lips were curved upward, and his tone remained gentle. "Do you have anything in mind that you want to wear?"

"If not, we can do the same as last time. Leave it to me."

When they had first started seeing each other, they attended a gala together for the first time. The outfit and shoes he had prepared for her had been flawless. She trusted him, but...

Arianna hesitated. "I have a gown, but I'm not sure if it’s appropriate for that kind of event."

"It doesn't matter. Just be comfortable."

They hit a red light, and the car came to a stop. Maxwell’s slender wrists rested on the wheel as he tilted his head to look at her. The neon lights outside the window carved his features into a sharp, deep-set silhouette.

He wore a languid, satisfied smile. "Arianna, you’re so beautiful that you don't need to pick an outfit. You could wear anything, and you’d still look stunning."

In that instant, looking into his serious eyes, Arianna felt her pulse spiral completely out of control.