Max.


    Elissa jolted, looking up at Rowan in surprise. “What did you just call him? Did you say his name is Max too?”


    Rowan walked over, meaning to ruffle the dog’s head, but the dog burrowed even deeper into Elissa’s arms,pletely ignoring him.


    Ungrateful little thing.


    He gave a wry half–smile, his tone casual. “Yeah, he’s Max.”


    “Really?”


    Crouched on the floor, Elissa’s eyes lit up instantly. Thest rays of winter sunlight washed over her, making her seem to glow from within.


    Deep dimples framed her brilliant grin; she looked so alive, so radiant.


    Rowan had meant to tease her–the words were already on his lips–but seeing her like this, he let it go.


    He nodded slightly. “When have I ever lied to you?”


    And that stubborn girl, for all her resolve, suddenly had tears welling up and spilling down her cheeks.


    Because Rowan truly never had lied to her.


    She hugged the dog tighter, burying her face in his fur, then pulled back and looked at him, halfughing, half–crying. “Max, is it really you?”


    “Woof!”


    “Max?”


    “Woof!”


    Her joy was irrepressible. Elissa looked up at Rowan, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons. For a moment, she forgot all about the grievances she once harbored, eager only to share her happiness. “Rowan, he still


    10:45


    Chapter <b>145 </b>


    remembers me!”


    She was beautiful, her features delicate, but in that moment, smiling like this, she was dazzling, vibrant–no hint of the hardships she’d endured.


    It was as if she’d always been that sheltered, pampered girl he remembered.


    Rowan’s gaze lingered on her soft, pink lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed. The rimless sses on his nose did a fine job of masking the storm in his eyes. “And what did you just call me?”


    Elissa, still giddy with happiness, snapped back to herself. “Mr. Murphy.”


    Rowan didn’t respond.


    Not what he wanted.


    Every time in the past, whenever she’d called him by his full name, he only had to remind her, and she’d stubbornly–but sweetly–call him “brother.”


    But Elissa’s attention was all on the dog, missing the subtle shift in him. Her voice was still thick with emotion. “Back then, Butler Murphy told me


    Max-”


    n saved him,” Rowan interjected smoothly, then beckoned to the dog. “Max,e on. Time to go home.”


    Only then did Elissa realize with a start–her new tenant was Rowan.


    She jumped to her feet, licking her lips, her voice full of disbelief. “Mr. Murphy, you… you moved in here?”


    “Mm.”


    Rowan nced at the apartment across the hallway, lifting a brow as if the realization had just struck him. “You’re living right across from me?”


    “That’s right.”


    After years of being beneath his thumb, Elissa finally felt a little like the


    214


    10:45


    tables had turned. She grinned and reminded him, “I’m still yourndlord, you know.”


    “Good.”


    Rowan nodded thoughtfully. “So if there’s ever a problem with the apartment, I’ll be sure toe find you.”


    Elissa regretted speaking up. As she watched Rowan about to head inside with the dog, she blurted out, a little sheepishly, “Max… he’s mine, isn’t he?”


    Rowan didn’t deny it. He just fixed his eyes on her, his tone slow and even. “So, after all these years of me taking care of him for you–how do you n to thank me?”


    Elissa froze.


    She didn’t have much to offer–and whatever she could give, Rowan didn’t


    need.


    She squeezed her palm and asked bluntly, “Well, what do you want?”


    As long as it wasn’t something insane, she’d do anything for Max.


    “I’ll have to think about it.”


    As he watched her brace herself like she was walking to the gallows, Rowan’s eyes flickered. Taking advantage of his height, he took two long strides forward, cornering her gently against the wall.


    He leaned in slightly, and his gaze, sharp and intent, flicked briefly to her lips. The urge to touch her was almost overwhelming.


    A subtle scent of sandalwood enveloped her, making Elissa inexplicably


    nervous.


    She turned her face aside, mumbling, “Well, have you thought of something or not? If not, then-”


    Her tone, usually cool and distant, now carried a hint of flustered


    10:45


    irritation. Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink.


    Rowan’s throat worked as he swallowed. “Yeah, I’ve thought of something.”


    10:45