"Kitten, want some sweet potato mousse cake?" Arden strolled back into the bedroom, balancing a small plate in his hand. He was ready to feed his little woman, but the sight of Sandra—already dressed and poised to leave—made him pause.

His brow arched as he set the plate down on Moya's vanity.

Gently, he pulled her closer. "What's this? All dressed up? Eat first, then go back to sleep, okay?" 

Sandra slipped from his grasp, her expression unreadable. "I'm heading home. I've stayed long enough and don't want to trouble everyone anymore."

Arden frowned, thrown by the sudden shift in Sandra's demeanor. Just moments ago, she had been nestled in his arms—now, she stood distant, slipping away like a breeze.

He caught her hand, his grip firm yet careful. "Moya's not some outsider," he said, as if that settled everything.

But if Moya wasn't an outsider, that only made Sandra's presence feel even more misplaced.

"But I am," Sandra murmured, prying his fingers away one by one.

Arden tightened his grip, effortlessly pulling her back into his arms. Amusement flickered in his eyes as he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear.

"Are you jealous?" he teased, his voice low and smug.

Sandra turned away, stubbornly refusing to give him the satisfaction. "Who do you think you are? Why would I be jealous?"

His smirk deepened. "Who do I think I am? Hmm? You tell me—who am I?"

The rogue in him emerged, his hands already slipping beneath her clothes, ready to strip her down.

But Sandra caught his wrists, her grip firm as she met his gaze with an icy, unwavering stare.

"You're just one of the men who slept with me... among others."

The smug curve on Arden's lips faltered, his smile freezing in place as a muscle in his jaw twitched.

Was this woman trying to drive him insane?

"Oh? So getting assaulted by Yao awakened something in you? Didn't realize you had such... dark tastes," Arden sneered, his arm tightening around her, as if he might snap her in half at any moment.

Sandra met his glare with a smirk, mirroring his wickedness. "What makes you think I haven't been with other guys this past year?"

Arden's eyes darkened, the playfulness bleeding into something far sharper. "Oh? Let's hear about it, then."

Sandra shrugged, her voice cool and dismissive. "You're not my boyfriend. I don't owe you any confessions."

Arden let out a cold laugh. "Is this your way of asking me to make you my girlfriend?"

He'd dealt with women like this plenty of times—chased after him, demanded, What exactly do you take me for?

What did he take them for? The real question was—what did they take him for? In the end, this girl was no different.

The disdain in his eyes struck like a slap. Sandra bit down on her lip, swallowing the ache rising in her chest.

With a sharp shove, she pushed him away. "Who cares about being your girlfriend? Go eat your cake naked for all I care."

Moya watched Sandra storm out, then shifted her gaze to Arden, who stood there grinding his teeth like he was chewing over his pride.

"Aren't you going to chase after her?" she asked.

Arden dropped onto the edge of the bed, shoving a forkful of cake into his mouth. "She can go wherever she wants. Completely unreasonable."

Moya crossed her arms. "It's the middle of the night. Not exactly safe for a girl to be out alone."

Arden snorted. "With her temper? Anyone dumb enough to mess with her is asking for it."

Moya sighed. "She hasn't eaten in two days and just went through something traumatic. Of course, she's emotional. What if she collapses on the street and some random guy picks her up? You'll regret it. Haven't you learned enough from what happened with Yao? If you'd gone after her sooner, none of that would've happened."

Arden's fists clenched at the memory, his jaw tightening. "She ran off looking for trouble. By the time I called that morning, it was already too late." 

Moya didn't let up. "Maybe. But after Yao caught her with you, you shouldn't have left her alone. Don't tell me you don't regret it—at least a little."

Arden's grip on the plate tightened, the fork digging into the cake, but he said nothing. Moya could see it clearly—his anger wasn't just about the situation. It was the frustration of losing control, something he hated more than anything.

He stared at the cake, unmoving, as if the answer lay somewhere beneath the crumbs.

Moya huffed, tapping her foot impatiently. "So, are you going after her or not? If you keep sitting there, it really will be too late."

"You go after her," Arden said, his tone flat and unbothered.

Moya rolled her eyes. "She's your woman. If you're not chasing her, why should I?"

Arden arched a brow. "Aren't you interested in her?"

Moya narrowed her eyes, unsure if he was serious or just messing with her. "Careful. Keep talking like that, and I just might."

He waved her off lazily. "Go ahead. She's already got the wrong idea about me. I can't explain it, and even if I could, she wouldn't believe me."

Moya studied him for a moment before turning to grab her coat. "Not worried I'll actually steal her?"

Arden's smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, weary but unwavering. "Then I'll just win her back."

🎬🔀

Moya didn't have to search long. She found Sandra sitting alone on a park bench at the corner of the street, arms wrapped tightly around herself, shivering against the cold. Hunger and exhaustion carved faint shadows beneath her eyes.

Sandra glanced around, a sinking feeling settling in her chest—she was stuck. The neighborhood was quiet, residential and lifeless at this hour. No late-night diners, no buses rumbling by. Just rows of dark windows and empty streets.

She had nowhere to go. No cell phone to call.

The temperature shift from day to night was brutal, and the biting cold of the midnight wind cut through her like a blade. Two days of barely eating had drained her strength, making it even harder to stay warm.

The moment she stormed out, she regretted it. But stubborn as she was, how could she swallow her pride and go back? Besides, she didn't even know Moya's apartment buzz code. Even if she gave in, she couldn't get inside the building.

Arden's earlier condescension still stung, its weight pressing heavily on her thoughts. If he didn't want her as his girlfriend, why had he risked everything to save her from Yao? Why had he been so outraged, so protective—treating her like something fragile and irreplaceable, carrying her in and out of places as if she were a treasure?

Was this just how he treated all his women? And what about that striking mixed-race beauty? He could take other women to stay overnight at her place, even strut around in front of her without a shred of clothing.

The growl of a sports car's engine shattered the stillness of the night, drawing closer with every second. Sandra kept her gaze fixed ahead, but her heartbeat betrayed her, quickening with anticipation.

"Don't be stupid," she told herself. "Don't expect anything."

"Beauty, hop in. I'll take you to grab a bite."

The sultry, feminine voice cut through her thoughts, yanking her back to reality. Disappointment sank like a stone in her chest.

Sandra, how many times have you sworn to be realistic? So why do you keep clinging to false hopes?

Expectations only ever led to disappointment, and she had no one to blame but herself.

The car was familiar—the sleek SVJ—but the driver wasn't who she'd hoped for. Without a word, she slid into the passenger seat, allowing the warm air from the heater to sting her frozen skin.

"What do you want to eat?" Moya asked, breaking the silence.

"Anything," Sandra murmured.

Moya chuckled. "Anything is always the hardest to prepare. Never mind—there aren't many places open at this hour. Let's head to No. 9."

No. 9 Restaurant, a 24/7 haven renowned for its extensive Cantonese menu and Chinese BBQ, was the ultimate spot for late-night comfort food—steaming congee, delicate dim sum, and rich, savory dishes. Inside, the air buzzed with warmth and life, a welcome contrast to the cold, desolate streets outside.

Moya quickly ordered a pot of congee and several side dishes, the small table soon overflowing with food.

"You haven't eaten in two days. Start with something light," Moya urged, her tone both gentle and firm. With the ease of an old friend, she ladled a bowl of congee for Sandra, the simple act brimming with unspoken care.

Sandra studied Moya's bare face, stripped of the bold, striking charm she'd displayed at their first meeting. Yet even without makeup, without effort, she glowed—radiating a natural, sunlit sensuality that was just as captivating.

Some people possessed an effortless allure, a magnetism that clung to them no matter what they wore. Even draped in a bedsheet, they could command attention without trying.

This was the kind of woman who belonged with someone like Arden—a reckless rogue consumed by little more than lust.

Sandra took the bowl, letting the act of eating distract her from the unease tightening in her chest.

The comforting warmth of a full stomach soon brought a wave of drowsiness over Sandra, lulling her into a fragile calm. Yet Moya seemed in no rush to leave. She ordered two milk teas, took a slow sip, and broke the silence.

"Don't you have anything you want to ask me?"

Sandra blinked, the question pulling her back from the edge of sleep. She frowned slightly, shaking off the haze. "Ask about what?"

"Depends on what you're curious about," Moya said casually, her eyes flicking to her bright red nails. "Like, say, my relationship with Arden."

Sandra straightened, masking her unease with a façade of indifference. "Whatever's between you and him has nothing to do with me."

Moya's large, luminous eyes widened slightly in surprise. She studied Sandra intently, her penetrating gaze unsettling enough to make Sandra shift uncomfortably in her seat.

After a moment, Moya chuckled and shook her head. "You two—honestly, I don't know what to say. One won't explain, the other won't ask. Both so damn stubborn."

Sandra stayed silent, waiting for Moya to continue.

"I've always wondered—why do you think Arden does that kind of work?" Moya asked, her tone laced with curiosity.

"Doesn't he?" Sandra replied, her voice quieter than she intended.

"Of course not." Moya rolled her eyes, an exasperated smile tugging at her lips. "Though, in some ways, he's not far off. But no, he doesn't charge women money."

Sandra's gaze wavered, drifting toward the table as a faint unease crept over her. Its source was difficult to name, but it lingered, settling deeper with every word.

Moya idly traced her fingers along the rim of the milk tea glass. "Let me tell you something. Arden's family situation is... complicated. So complicated that he's never been serious with any woman. Sure, there are plenty of women around him, but he never makes promises. It's not because he doesn't want to commit—it's because being serious would bring trouble. Trouble from his family. Knowing he might not be able to keep his promises, he chooses not to get too involved. For his sake and for others."

What a noble sentiment, Sandra thought sarcastically. She took a deep breath. "I get it."

Moya tilted her head, her eyes sharp. "Do you really?"

"I do. Arden and I can only have a physical relationship. No emotions involved."

Moya groaned, rolling her eyes. "You don't get it. He probably doesn't realize it himself yet, but he's already starting to take you seriously."

Sandra met her gaze, disbelief clear on her face. "That's impossible."

"I'd like to know how it's possible, too." Moya said, taking a slow sip of her milk tea. "At first, I thought he was just having fun. But his reaction when you disappeared? Way too abnormal. Arden's not the impulsive type. He's been through enough to know you can't win every battle. He's stolen other men's women, had his women stolen, and never once seemed to care."

Moya set the glass down, her eyes thoughtful. "There are plenty of beautiful women out there. Just standing at The Roxy, he could have a line of them throwing themselves at him. So why go through all this hassle? No offense, but while you're pretty and have a nice figure, there are younger, softer, and even more stunning women out there. If all he wanted was a sex partner, would he risk a charge of intentional injury by filing a report? How's your relationship with that guy, Yao? Are you willing to sue him? In the end, who's going to end up in the most trouble? Even a fool knows what to do.

Sandra bit her lip, staring at her hands as Moya's words hung heavily in the air. She didn't know what to say.

"His completely irrational behavior only means one thing—he genuinely cares about you."

The words lingered, unshakable, broken only by the soft clink of ice collapsing in Moya's glass.

Sandra finally lifted her gaze, her expression carefully composed. "So what's your point?"

Moya tilted her head slightly, an enigmatic smile playing at her lips. "He may be a rogue, but even rogues have a time to change their ways. The question is, do you want to hear the promise you're waiting for—from his own lips?"

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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