Maria had been waiting all along. Hearing the sound of the car, she stood up, slipped the dishcloth into her apron pocket, and hurried to the door.

Vio pushed the door open. Maria bowed slightly, took the slippers from the shoe rack, crouched down, and placed them at his feet.

He undid the buckles of his leather shoes with one hand, kicked them off, and stepped into the slippers.

Maria straightened the shoes and then took the suit jacket from his arm, shook it out, and draped it over her own arm.

Vio walked upstairs step by step. His long fingers unfastened his tie, loosened it, pulled it off his neck, and casually tossed it onto the stair railing.

He unbuttoned two buttons at the collar of his shirt, exposing his collarbone and a small patch of chest.

As he rounded the corner of the staircase, he looked up.

At the far end of the corridor, the bedroom door was being closed ever so gently.

The gap between the door and the frame grew smaller and smaller, until finally there was a soft “click”—the latch had dropped into its slot, almost imperceptibly.

He glanced at his wristwatch: one o’clock in the morning.

When he reached the doorway, he didn’t knock; he simply turned the handle and walked right in.

In the bedroom, only the small bedside lamp was on, casting a warm yellow glow over half the bed while the other half remained shrouded in darkness.

A corner of the quilt was lifted, revealing an indentation where the pillow had pressed against it.

On the nightstand lay a deep-blue gift box, tied with a ribbon, placed in the most prominent spot.

There was no one in the room. His gaze fell on the bathroom—it was lit, but there was no sound of running water.

Vio withdrew his eyes and walked over to the nightstand.

He lifted the lid, and inside lay a lighter. It was white, with metal edges, and S.T. Dupont’s logo embossed on the bottom.

He picked it up and weighed it in his hand; it wasn’t light at all.

He had three lighters of this brand before, though he couldn’t remember where he’d thrown them away.

Vio squinted. Was this him trying to drive her away? Or was she buying something to win him over?

The man walked over to the sofa and sat down, turning the flint several times and adding some kerosene.

He flicked the wheel with his finger, and a blue-and-yellow flame shot up.

He pulled a thin black cigarette from his pack, put it in his mouth, and lit it with this very lighter.

Smoke rose, and he squinted, turning the lighter over and over in his hands.

It was just that the color he’d chosen wasn’t quite right. He didn’t like white; he preferred black.

Vio wasn’t sure what this feeling was.

In his position, it was impossible to avoid people trying to curry favor.

In the business world, people would send watches, wine, gold bars—whole cases piled into his car—and he wouldn’t even bother to glance at them.

Women sent even more: ties, cufflinks, perfumes, beautifully packaged, with saccharine notes on the cards.

He couldn’t even be bothered to unpack them; he’d have Bali dispose of them.

All those gifts were stacked in the safe, untouched—he hadn’t even opened some of them, and later he didn’t know where to throw them away.

But this woman had given him a lighter.

It wasn’t much—just something bought with his money, fifty thousand Dirhams, which wasn’t even pocket change for him.

Any one of his subordinates could give him a gift ten times more expensive than this.

Yet he still felt an itch in his heart.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it—like something was scratching at his chest, not hard, but irritatingly itchy.

The bathroom door opened.

Qin Qinxi stood in the doorway, dressed in a black ensemble—the very style Vio had requested.

Her gaze lingered on his face for a moment, then shifted to the lighter.

He was using it. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Qin Qinxi had already prepared her words.

She immediately smiled, a faint, polite smile.

“Sorry, Mr. Mansero,” she said as she walked over and stood before him, her voice sincere. “I bought it with your money.”

She paused. “But honestly, I really wanted to give you something. Don’t worry—you can send me back, and we can still keep in touch. I’ll pay you back.”

For a few seconds, the room was silent.

Vio took the cigarette from his lips and tapped the ash off.

His eyes settled on the lighter in his hand, his fingers spinning it around once, then twice. Suddenly, he smiled.

Qin Qinxi watched his smile and felt a chill run down her spine.

The last time he’d smiled like that was when he’d first said he’d send her back—and then suddenly pulled out a gun and tried to kill her.

She swallowed hard. But she wasn’t sure.

She felt she hadn’t done anything to offend him at all.

End of Chapter 55: Chapter 55