Presidential Suite, Westerhaven Hotel.


    Briony sat at the vanity, smoothing moisturizer into her skin.


    A knock sounded at the door.


    She got up and opened it.


    On the threshold, Maynard leaned against the frame, arms folded. "Care to watch


    a movie together?"


    Briony paused, surprised. "What movie?"


    "The new Titanic remake."


    She nced at the clock-barely ten o''clock.


    Since her recovery, her routine had settled into a strict rhythm.


    Besides, of all movies, he picked that one...


    Briony offered Maynard a polite smile. "Sorry, but it''s already my bedtime."


    "Briony, are you really that heartless?" Maynard let out a halfugh, half-sigh. "It''s just a movie. Are you guarding against me like I''m some creep? That hurts, you know."


    "I trust your character, Mr. Maynard. I just really need my rest." Briony''s tone was earnest. "After all, it took a lot to get my life back on track. I''m sure you can understand."


    "Fine." Maynard heaved a dramatic sigh. "It''s my bad for not thinking it through. So, you tell me when will you watch a movie with me?"


    Briony frowned. "Mr. Maynard, I—"


    "Are you going to turn me down again?" He cut her off, eyes bright with mischief, words taunting. "Briony, you''re such a coward."


    Briony stared at him, at a loss for words.


    "What are you so afraid of?" Maynard arched an eyebrow with a teasing smirk. "I promise I don''t bite."


    Briony pressed her fingers to her temple. "Maynard, are you five years old? Are you really trying to win me over with reverse psychology?"


    "What else can I do?" Maynard shrugged, grinning. "You''re immune to everything. I''m running out of tricks here!"


    Briony offered a sincere suggestion. "You could just give up."


    "I''m thirty-six," Maynard replied, putting on a wounded look. "Briony, in a few more years I''ll be forty and everyone says a man''s no good after forty."


    Briony couldn''t help butugh out of exasperation.


    "How about this," he continued, "Why not just ept me now-date me for a


    couple of years, and then dump me before I hit forty?"


    Briony let out a sigh, half amused,


    half annoyed. "Maynard, feelings et


    aren''t a joke. I know you like to?oke around, but some things aren''t funny."


    Maynard straightened his cor with a flourish. "It might sound like a joke, but I''m


    more serious than anyone."


    "I can''t argue with you," Briony said, shaking her head. "I''m going to bed. Goodnight."


    As she closed the door, Maynard''s hand darted out-


    She barely had time to react before the door caught his fingers.


    Five minutester, a hotel staff member brought up a first-aid kit.


    Maynard lounged on the sofa, one arm draped over the backrest,


    other the injured hand- theet


    his


    fingers hanging l


    on


    Four knuckles were already swollen and bruised, red and angry.


    It looked nasty.


    The solid wooden door, soundproof as it was, clearly packed a punch.


    Briony took out the ointment and gently dabbed it on his hand.


    The suite was silent.


    She turned slightly, head bowed as she worked. The light overhead cast a soft


    glow over her wless profile.


    Hershes cast shadows on her cheeks, thick and curled.


    Maynard rarely had the chance to study her from this close.


    She''d just showered, wearing a soft cotton pajama set in a creamy white that


    made her seem especially gentle and serene.