Arianna Stone was caught off guard, suddenly face-to-face with Maxwell King.

Maxwell’s expression was slightly strained. Arianna, however, barely noticed; her mind was racing, spiraling into a single, frantic thought: *Did he hear what I just said? Was this fire door soundproof?* If he had, the level of cringe would be tectonic.

Maxwell observed her dazed expression. "Arianna, what’s wrong?"

Arianna snapped back to reality. "Nothing. What are you doing here?"

*Of course he’s here for the restroom, you idiot.* She chastised herself, trying to act like nothing was out of the ordinary as she stepped aside to let him pass.

"I came to find you," he said.

Arianna looked up, stunned. "??"

Alexis Morgan, who had chased after them in a blind rage, skidded to a halt at the sight. Her heart skipped a beat. A few feet away, Maxwell was staring intensely at Arianna, his lips curled into a faint, gentle smile. The raw, unfiltered adoration in his eyes was impossible to miss.

In that singular heartbeat, the hidden meaning behind Arianna’s words to her suddenly clicked. *You love holding your background over people’s heads? Fine. How’s Maxwell’s? Try him.*

She no longer had the courage to covet anything more. Lowering her head, Alexis turned and retreated in the opposite direction.

Passing through the fire door and down the corridor, she saw Cameron Hughes rushing toward her. They hadn’t spoken in a long time. He looked wrecked—dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes, stubble shadowed his jaw, and his hair was overgrown, hiding the volatile storm in his gaze. Despite his sharp suit, he looked hollow, his mental state hanging by a thread.

He headed straight for her, his pace hurried, as if he had something urgent to tell her. Alexis subconsciously slowed down, a flicker of hope rising in her chest.

Cameron stopped right in front of her. "Have you seen Arianna? Is she over there?"

It was like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head. The warmth in Alexis's heart died instantly. She dug her fingernails into the soft flesh of her palms, forcing a mask of indifference. "I don't think so. I just came from that direction."

She blinked, feigning innocence. "Why are you looking for her? Is something wrong?"

*Obviously, he had a reason to look for her.*

Cameron cast her a strange, dismissive glance, offering nothing in response. "Got it. Thanks."

He brushed past her, heading exactly where she had just been. He hadn't believed a word she said. His entire demeanor was one of cold, distant politeness—a wall built to keep everyone else out. Only when he mentioned that specific name did the mask crack, the calm shattered by a desperate, jagged hunger.

Alexis felt her breath hitch, her heart feeling as though it were being crushed underfoot. She squeezed her eyes shut, her knuckles whitening as she gripped her hands into tight fists. Every ounce of strength seemed to drain from her body. She turned, watching his retreating back with a hollow, haunted look.

***

Meanwhile, Maxwell had heard the commotion, his ears sharp enough to identify Cameron’s voice. Without a moment's hesitation, he gripped Arianna’s hand and pulled her in the opposite direction.

Arianna followed, confused. "What’s going on? Where are we going?"

Maxwell said nothing, only squeezing her slender, cool fingers. He guided her into the elevator lobby and stabbed the button. Just as the fire door began to creak open behind them, he pulled her inside the elevator.

Cameron arrived seconds too late, finding only empty air.

Inside the elevator, Arianna watched the glowing floor buttons, still perplexed. "Why are we going to the second floor?"

Noah Carter had rented out the entire hotel, including the three-story lounge next door; the second floor was strictly for private booths.

Maxwell remained silent for a moment, weighing his options. Through a momentary oversight, Cameron had managed to crash the party, and the mere sight of him had set off alarm bells in Maxwell's head. He had never dared to ask Arianna about her past with Cameron, and he had no idea what kind of shadow the man still cast over her.

*Would she go back to him? If he begged, would she soften? Would she leave me?*

The terror of the unknown gnawed at his resolve, driving him to act. Finally, he came up with a half-baked excuse. "I’m not feeling great. Can we go to a booth and sit for a while?"

"Not feeling well? Where does it hurt?" Arianna immediately caught the bait, her eyes full of concern. "Is it your legs? Did you twist your ankle?"

Maxwell watched her panic and felt a surge of gratification. He curled his lips. "Yeah. Twisted it."

Arianna was genuinely worried. She instinctively reached for his pant leg. "Is it swollen? Let me see."

Maxwell let out a pained hiss. "Don't—don't touch it, Arianna. It stings."

Arianna pulled back instantly. "Okay, okay, I won't." She furrowed her brow, watching him with intense, nervous focus.

A pang of guilt hit Maxwell, but he suppressed it, taking her hand and gently rubbing it to comfort her. "It’s alright. It doesn't hurt that much. We just need to sit for a bit."

"Fine. Let me help you."

They had arrived late, and the other rooms were occupied, leaving only the one at the very end of the hall. Arianna pushed the door open and helped him inside. Maxwell played the role of the injured man to perfection—until, just as she was guiding him toward the sofa, he dropped the act.

"Wait."

Arianna froze.

Maxwell turned, and with a crisp *click*, he locked the door from the inside. "Okay, we’re good now."