Settling beside her, Waylen delicately swept back her hair, his tone tender.

"Are you still upset?"

Rena, perched at the bar counter, gazed into the nocturnal abyss outside, her voice subdued.

“Waylen, surveillance isn't what anyone wants. Is it concern or mistrust?"

He smiled, a confession in one word.

"Jealousy."

She braced for a confrontation.

Yet his gentleness disarmed her, breeding a mix of frustration and embarrassment.

However, this was no setting for an argument.

They departed together.

In the driver's seat of his black Rolls-Royce, Waylen, still in his formal attire, resembled a charming mafia boss.

Rena averted her gaze.

A chuckle escaped him, his spirits lifted by reuniting with Rena.

Upon halting, Rena sensed a deviation.

They were at a five-star hotel. Was Waylen intending an overnight stay away from home?

He released his seatbelt, querying, “Weren't you planning on a hotel stay?"

"I intended to stay alone."

Waylen's touch was gentle on her face, his voice husky.

“Staying alone is a luxury here, a needless one."

With those words, he swung the car door wide.