Scarlett Yates was pinned against the wall by him, his tall, lean figure blocking her front, one hand braced on the wall, trapping her in a tiny corner.

She was surrounded by his presence, icy and domineering, forming an invisible pressure that made Scarlett sense a trace of danger.

One hand pressed against Maxwell Saxon’s chest to stop him from getting any closer. She kept a cold face and said indifferently, "Maxwell Saxon, what are you doing? I made myself very clear last time. What more do you want? Are you a stalker or what?"

She thought Maxwell Saxon was really bold.

If it were someone else, in this situation, they would’ve left Z City long ago.

Yet he still refused to go, and kept showing up in the same places as Matthew Saxon again and again. Had he never heard the saying that enemies seeing each other only makes their eyes turn even redder?

Matthew Saxon was definitely not some gentleman.

Even if he had agreed to let her and her son go, that was something he’d agreed to before; he could go back on his word in the very next second.

By then, old and new grudges would all be settled together, and he would only deal with him even more ruthlessly.

Scarlett wasn’t sure if running into Maxwell this time was just a coincidence, but there was one thing she knew very clearly: no matter whether she and Maxwell had met by chance or if Maxwell had been following her all along, once Matthew discovered them, more inexplicable misunderstandings would be born.

She’d already been gone to the restroom for quite a while. In a bit, if Matthew couldn’t find her, he would definitely come looking. If he discovered her holed up in this private room alone with Maxwell, just a man and a woman, even ten mouths wouldn’t be enough to explain it away.

"Scarlett, don’t be nervous. I just want to say a few words to you." Maxwell withdrew the hand braced on the wall and took a step back, then pointed at the bottles of wine on the table, his voice hoarse as he said, "Will you have a drink with me? Just one drink."

On the table, one of the wine bottles was already empty, and the other bottle of red was only half full.

Judging by the look of it, Maxwell seemed to have come here specifically to drown his sorrows.

Scarlett glanced at the table, looked at the empty bottle, then slowly shifted her gaze back to Maxwell, staring at him for a few seconds. Only then did she notice there seemed to be a hint of drunkenness in his eyes; his gaze wasn’t as clear as usual.

Most men who’ve been drinking are dangerous.

Even though Maxwell was only slightly drunk, Scarlett still felt a faint sense of crisis. A wary look flashed in her eyes as she stood where she was and didn’t move. "I don’t drink."

Maxwell’s lips curved in a faint smile. "Then you don’t have to drink. Just sit with me for a while."

His deep eyes were half narrowed, a light flickering inside them. When he looked at Scarlett, it was as if a small flame had been lit at the bottom of his gaze, making his eyes shine even brighter.

Those glowing eyes fixed on her, filled with a complex, indescribable emotion, as if he had a thousand things he wanted to say to her, yet for the moment didn’t know where to start.

Scarlett still shook her head. "No."

"Then just talk to me for a bit. It won’t take much of your time. Stop rejecting me."

He sounded like he was begging her, pressing his voice very, very low, with a faint trace of hurt hidden in it.

"Maxwell Saxon, you’ve been following me around all day. Does that amuse you? Even if I do talk to you for a while, what’s the point? I thought you were someone who knew how to take things up and put them down. Even if you can’t let go, at least you wouldn’t do something so beneath your status. Acting like this—how are you any different from a stalker?"