But Andres wasn't going to be brushed off that easily.
"I'm not tired."
Maeve let out a massive yawn.
"I am."
Andres gently but firmly forced her to look him in the eyes.
"You can be tired later."
Maeve couldn't help but laugh out of sheer frustration.
"You're being completely unreasonable."
Andres's expression remained dead serious.
"Maeve, will there ever come a day when you fall in love with another man?"
Maeve rolled her eyes hard.
"Dealing with just you is already annoying enough. Where would I find the time to entertain that kind of nonsense?"
All she wanted to do was sleep.
But Andres's deep, haunting voice continued to murmur relentlessly in her ear.
"So, will you ever fall in love with another man?"
Maeve gave him the most dismissive answer possible.
"No, no, I won't. Can I please go to sleep now?"
Andres shook her awake again.
"I need you to answer me seriously."
Maeve's temper finally snapped.
"How old are you? Why are you asking such a childish question?"
Andres looked at her intensely.
"Because you praised another man's looks right in front of me today."
Maeve was completely speechless.
When did she praise another man?
Then it clicked—she had called his late father handsome while looking at the photo album in the manor.
But that was obviously a joke!
"Andres, you're not actually throwing a tantrum over that, are you?"
Andres's silence answered for him.
He was absolutely throwing a tantrum.
Of course, he wasn't genuinely jealous of his own father.
He was just terrified that one day Maeve might meet a man better than him and walk away without a second thought.
She was the kind of woman who could hand over a gold mine without blinking.
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