Run!

Don't just stand there! Are you waiting to be caught by him?!

The shouts behind her were like a chilling breeze, momentarily quelling the panic and frustration bubbling within her.

“Maeve, the prize is $12,000! Hurry, kiss him, kiss him!”

As Khai Howell made his entrance, the lively atmosphere inexplicably quieted. It was rare to see someone so remarkable; he stood at least 6'2" with impeccable style, and his strikingly handsome face was the epitome of perfection.

All eyes, full of admiration, locked onto him.

Maeve Riley, standing at the heart of the storm, was nearly dying of embarrassment. She wanted to flee immediately, but with Khai right in front of her, it was clear the room was packed with his entourage.

With no way out, she might as well earn the money!

The paper between her lips muffled her speech as others hurriedly passed it around, and they were about to lose.

Maeve's adrenaline spiked, and without much thought, she wrapped an arm around Khai's neck and pressed her lips against him.

But he was too tall—she couldn't quite reach his irresistibly sensual lips.

Having come this far, giving up wasn't her style. Anyway, with paper in between, it felt like nothing more than a peck on the cheek.

Even if she was the one initiating it.

Her left hand climbed up his shoulder to his neck, and she leaped, wrapping her long legs tightly around him.

From holding the paper strip between her lips for so long, her face was flushed red. His breathtakingly handsome face was now inches away, a sight that enchanted countless women.

The sudden proximity took Maeve's breath away. Yet, a burning desire to win made her furrow her brows and push forward.

An unexpected twist!

The paper slipped from her lips, and the warm, soft sensation on her lips sent her mind buzzing, eliciting an embarrassed little gasp.

“Sorry... sorry, it was an accident!” Maeve swore she had never felt so mortified.

“An accident? You slapped me yesterday and now forced a kiss—just an accident?”

“If not, what else could it be? If you weren't here, I wouldn't have accidentally kissed you. Look, your assistant terrified that guy.”

Her soft fingers innocently pointed to the man in the white t-shirt cornered by a few bodyguards.

Khai's intense gaze stayed locked on her face.

This woman had forced a kiss on him and seemed unwilling to take responsibility.

Since when had he ever endured such humiliation?

“You're saying that if he were here, you’d have kissed him too if the paper fell?”

“What does that have to do with you?” she retorted sharply, raising her brows. Whom she played games with or kissed was her business, not his.

“You bore my child. Do you think your personal affairs are none of my concern?” he insisted.

They remained in the same position, with Khai supporting her, while Maeve, now holding a slightly higher vantage, felt a cheeky surge of confidence.

“Please, Uncle, just because I had your child doesn't mean you get to control me. It's one thing if you touch me, but dictating whom I kiss? Why not just call yourself my father?”

Khai's hands inexplicably warmed as he held her.

The sensation stirred embarrassing thoughts within him.

He trembled slightly as he released her, unable to comprehend why he had willingly held her in such close quarters for so long.

Even more surprised was Felipe Lewis, who was busy clearing the crowd when he saw Khai kissing someone.

Whenever Khai had contact with women, his eyes would redden, becoming violent, obsessive, and extremely dangerous.

But before Felipe's actions could take effect, he realized Khai had both kissed and embraced her without his usual reaction.

Why?!

Why indeed?!

With furrowed brows, Felipe struggled to grasp the situation.

On the dance floor, as soon as Khai set Maeve down, she wanted to collect her $2,000 prize but discovered, to her dismay, that since her paper fell at the last moment, the score was invalid.

Missing out on the easy $2,000, she shot Khai a disdainful look.

This man was truly a jinx.

“Uncle, you already have our son, and I'm not asking for any child support from you. So, can you move aside? I have another gig tonight!”

Maeve's eyes darted to her phone’s clock. She had only about 40 minutes before she’d be late for her next job, which was at least a 30-minute ride away, so she had to leave immediately.

Despite her dismissive and disdainful demeanor, Khai felt a dark cloud cast over his mood.

“What kind of lowlife are you rushing off to meet now?”

“None of your business!”

Maeve was never one to accept orders easily. As she spoke, she confidently headed for the exit. But after two steps, a firm hand seized her left arm.

“You secretly had my child, and I haven't held you accountable. Now you dare flirt with other men in front of me. Are you asking for trouble?”

“Are you out of your mind? Flirting? We had a one-night stand. I didn’t even complain about your unremarkable skills and short stint, yet you have the nerve to act all high and mighty!”

Maeve's words were a spontaneous concoction. After repeating lies, they became second nature and flowed effortlessly.

In Khai’s memories, there was no recollection of any intimate encounter with her.

However, the evidence was undeniable—the child was biologically linked to him. And the woman before him was the only person in the world he could touch without triggering a reaction.

So, was it possible they did have a moment together that he somehow selectively forgot?

He wasn't someone to shirk responsibility. On the contrary, he was meticulous and highly possessive.

Even if this woman lacked the qualities he preferred, he couldn't tolerate anyone he had been with having unnecessary ties to other men.

Also, what did she just say? Criticizing his skills and performance duration?!

A wave of irritation rose from Khai's chest. With a sudden, firm grip, he dragged Maeve into a private room.

Bam.

Maeve found herself cornered by Khai in the room, his hand on the wall, blocking her escape.

An intensely dangerous air filled the silent space.

"You better say that again outside!"

"Hey, don't beat yourself up, man. Your skills are still lousy, and you're as forgetful as ever. But let’s be real, you're almost 30. Men peak around 30, but it's also normal to start slipping a little."

The man's expression darkened considerably. This woman spoke like a seasoned critic, casually evaluating his abilities. He wanted to argue back, but his memory came up empty—he'd never been with a woman before, so he had no proof to counter her claims. He gritted his teeth and corrected her, "Woman, I'm 29. Is it appropriate to call me 'old man' every time you speak?"

His appearance was undeniably striking. Among the stars at a Hollywood gala, he'd stand out as one of the most handsome. At 29, he exuded a confident maturity, making him an ideal match for women seeking romance. And he was Khai Howell, a powerhouse in the business world. Just his name alone commanded immense respect.

"But I'm only 22! There's a seven-year gap between us! So, really, calling you 'old man' is just being generous," Maeve Riley quipped.

Khai's grip tightened ever so slightly, "You're 22? And you had that child three years ago, which means you gave birth at 19, so you were with me at 18..."

Maeve initially wanted to conceal her age, but she knew that if Khai had come looking for her, he had already done his homework. She could bluff about a child, but her birthdate was set in stone. She laughed coolly and, under Khai's scrutiny, spun her tale, "Yes, yes. Maybe I was just too attractive back then, and you couldn't help yourself."

Khai scrutinized her calm demeanor, showing no signs of deception. He growled, "You better not be lying to me!"

"I swear, not a single lie. If I’m lying, may lightning strike me," she swore.

—Of course, technically, she wasn’t lying, because it was all made up. Maeve maintained her innocent and charming facade. Khai seemed to accept it, leaning against the wall and releasing her arm. He stood tall, casting a shadow over her, eyes gleaming with intensity as he asked, "Your name."

Maeve was taken aback. He had come all this way and still didn’t know her name? "My name is none of your..." The word 'business' was interrupted as his commanding presence silenced her defiance. "Maeve Riley," she finally conceded.

"Maeve Riley," he repeated, her name rolling off his tongue with a deep, melodic resonance that made her ears grow warm. "Still in school?"

"Yes," she replied. "I've been juggling work and studies all these years just to provide for your child. Look at these hands, worn and weary."

She hoped to stir his guilt, to wipe the smugness from his face so he would leave her alone. But to her surprise, Khai lifted her hand, examining it closely. Though he'd never touched another woman's hand, Maeve's was soft and smooth, addictively so. Suppressing his feelings, he spoke slowly, "Understood."

Wait, what did he mean by that? It sounded like he was signing a contract!

"Now that you understand, you should..." she began, secretly praying he'd vanish from her life. But before she could finish, Khai cut her off with unexpected words.

"I'll take responsibility," he declared.

No! This was not what she wanted!

Is he out of his mind?

Maeve jerked her hand back as if burned and took a breath to steady herself. "No, I don't need you to take responsibility. We live in different worlds. My focus isn't on this; I have my own dreams, my ambitions, my future. Once I leave the child with you, I'll focus on myself. So if you feel any guilt, treat Eli well. As for me, just consider me gone. Well then, old man, goodbye forever," she said, waving her hand dismissively before turning to leave.

Initially, Khai had questioned her intentions in seeking him out, but after tonight, he realized Maeve had no hidden motives. Instead, there was a deliberate distance about her. Her attitude only increased his curiosity, prompting him to delve deeper into her life to discover the truth. He was particularly interested in why every other woman triggered his old symptoms, yet she, even in close proximity, did not.

His dark, enigmatic gaze lingered on Maeve, filled with intrigue.

Maeve opened the door, eager to escape this complicated mess, only to be blocked by a woman radiating hostility.

"Maeve Riley, you're really here!" Aliza George stood with a cadre of henchmen, all clad in black and looking stern.

Maeve had expected this confrontation, knowing Aliza would soon face the consequences of her own actions. Aliza's eyes were bloodshot, glaring at Maeve with intense fury.

Maeve elegantly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Khai's words today had bolstered her confidence—he already believed Eli was his son. With Eli secured, Maeve had no other concerns.

She lifted her chin defiantly, "Oh, here to beg for forgiveness?"

"Beg? You trash, you're finished, and you're still so arrogant!"

"Please, let’s not act. Compared to you, dear Miss Aliza, with your rotten heart and dubious reputation, don’t pretend you’re pure," Maeve replied, her words heavy with implication.

As expected, Aliza's face flushed with rage. Her hand shot up, ready to strike Maeve, "I'm not pure? And you're any better? Broke with a gambling father and a kid; how do you even manage? Oh right, you probably turned down the older man I set up for you, opting for another. Does the one you found have better skills or more money? Pathetic!"

Maeve, determined not to stoop to Aliza's level, snapped at the mention of Eli. In a flash, she delivered a swift kick, causing Aliza to crash to the ground.

"Ah!!" Aliza's scream echoed.

"What are you standing there for? Get her! Anyone who brings her down tonight gets a hundred grand in cash!"

Wealth could make the impossible possible. The moment a hundred thousand dollars was mentioned, the hired thugs sprang into action, rolling up their sleeves, ready to send Maeve Riley to her doom.

They were no strangers to such shady dealings, especially with George Corporation backing them.

Just as they brandished their weapons, poised in front of Maeve, a tall figure stepped forward to shield her.

"Who dares to lay a finger on her?"

Aliza George's head shot up, taken aback by the commanding presence and looks of the man protecting Maeve. She had always considered Khai Howell, the man she fancied, to be exceptional. Yet, standing before this man made Khai seem less impressive by comparison.

However, seeing such an attractive man standing up for Maeve left her bewildered.

"Handsome, don't be fooled by Maeve Riley's charms. Do you have any idea about her scandalous private life? Just the other night, she was with an old man for money, and now she's here to string you along. Aren't you worried about catching something?"

Maeve, nestled securely in Khai Howell's embrace, scoffed at the baseless accusations. Her lips curled into a sardonic smile. "Aliza, if you have time for tall tales, perhaps you should first see a doctor to check if you contracted anything that night. Besides..."

Maeve's delicate hand playfully traced Khai's chest, tugging on his tie to draw him closer. Her voice was a sweet tease, "Honey, if I'm not even interested in you, how could I possibly be with another man, let alone end up in bed with one?"

Khai was momentarily speechless but found her logic quite convincing.

Was she clarifying just to prevent him from misunderstanding her? A strange emotion flickered through him. He swallowed, gently removing her hand from his tie and holding it softly in his palm, his voice deep and husky. "Hmm."

Aliza's eyes widened in disbelief. Did he actually buy it?

Feeling utterly ignored infuriated her. She was like a ruffled hen, shouting, "What are you standing around for? Don’t you want that hundred thousand?! Get them!"

The mention of a hundred thousand dollars snapped the thugs back to attention, and they reached aggressively for their weapons.

But before they could move, they were stopped by Khai's piercing gaze, freezing them in their tracks.

With a cool demeanor, Khai spoke, his words carrying undeniable authority, "A million, I want her life."

Khai held a check between his fingers, the string of zeros making the thugs' eyes gleam with greed.

They weren't fools; they immediately questioned the check's authenticity. But looking at the man's expensive attire and innate authoritative presence, they were certain he was someone significant.

The lead thug swallowed hard, almost ready to reach for the check, only for Maeve to deftly snatch it away.

"Honey, you can’t just throw money around like that. Besides, there are seven of them here. How could they divide it fairly?"

Seeing her pout and the mischievous grin on her face, Khai found himself asking, almost without thinking, "So, what do you suggest?"

Maeve clutched the check, tempted to pocket it herself. But with Khai watching, she refrained from being overt.

Pointing at Aliza, she suggested playfully, "How about this? A thousand per slap. I'll referee and even record it for you. You seven can earn as much as you want, and when we're done, come to me to collect."

She waved the million-dollar check enticingly at the seven thugs.

Aliza shouted in disbelief, "Who dares?!"

Maeve offered a gentle reminder, "Oh dear, my phone’s about to die. So let’s say five minutes only. Once the recording ends, all this easy money would just slip away."

The thugs had grown tired of Aliza’s demanding demeanor. Despite her glamorous front, she was stingy with them, paying just a thousand dollars a month while expecting them to commit various misdeeds.

Seeing her sneering at them only fueled their frustration.

"Guys, let's give her what she deserves!"

"This woman kicked me twice last week, nearly breaking my back. Watch me turn her into a pig today!"

One thug even asked Maeve, "Miss, do we earn more for kicks?"

Maeve quickly calculated, "Sure, a slap is a thousand, a kick's a thousand fifty. Just leave her alive, please."

That’s why Maeve stepped in—she didn’t want Khai to bear such a burden.

"Got it! Everyone, you heard? Go for it!"

The thugs swarmed Aliza, who never imagined such a fate.

The room echoed with the sound of slaps and Aliza’s cries, like a symphony that refused to end.

"Maeve Riley, you'll get yours!"

Despite her swollen mouth, Aliza screamed hysterically.

Maeve, filming the scene to calculate wages, sighed, "Come on, folks, she's still talking after all this?"

"Sorry, miss, I'll shut her up now!"

"Slap, slap, slap!" Aliza's face endured another barrage, her lips bleeding, staining her neck—a pitiful sight. Yet her semblance of a malevolent spirit drew no sympathy.

When the five minutes concluded, Maeve distributed the thugs’ wages accordingly.

Aliza lay like a broken doll on the ground, her fingers clawing at the floor, tears streaming. She vowed to repay Maeve’s humiliation a hundredfold.

"Bro, get her to the hospital. Here's 800, use it for an initial checkup."

With the air of a professional accountant, Maeve filled out the checkbook for Khai. Once the payments were done, she looked up at Khai, waiting for praise.

"Honey, have you learned anything? Even billionaires should value sustainable practices. I've just saved you a good five million by changing tactics. So, how about you..."

Her eyes twinkled with hope.

"Alright, this five million, I’ll keep it," Khai said nonchalantly, tucking the half-completed checkbook into his pocket.

Maeve was silent. Five million, gone just like that. This damn capitalist! Hope he enjoys saving it for his casket!

"Ha." Maeve shot him a cold smile. "Thank you, honey. I'll be off now. If you want to unwind, I can send some pretty ladies your way. Have a lovely evening."

She waved dismissively, attempting a graceful exit.

But from behind, Khai's deep, captivating voice called out.

"Maeve."

His voice, like a siren's song, quickened her heartbeat.

"Tonight, I want you to stay with me."

The suggestive tone caught her off guard. Surely, he didn’t mean... that, did he?