She fell for it.
Maxwell couldn’t believe that he was able to get Reyona to relax in his company.
Even he was amazed at the way he had been able to keep the conversation between them civil, all while his blood raged at the closeness between them.
That one-piece suit she had on was supposed to be one of the contrabands in the world.
Companies were supposed to be persecuted for creating things like that.
It wasn’t just the clothing.
It was the woman inside it.
Reyona.
Maxwell didn’t like thinking of her as a Lanoth.
He didn’t like the fact that that bastard had a claim to her.
Oh, he hated the fact that Thomas-fucking-Lanoth had a right to her for that long, yet it was a fact.
Not that Maxwell had to like it, though.
As he watched her posture that night gradually relax from the tensed, springbox-like stance to a comfortable posture, Maxwell felt like he had won the world.