Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

"Yep," Maxwell was stingy with words.

Rosemary waited for a good while but got nothing more out of him, impatiently blurting out, "Spit it out already, or get away."

Maxwell stared at her, lips tight pressed, clearly not a fan of the scowl and undisguised annoyance plastered on her face.

Back at Meadowlark Retreat, no matter how cold he acted, this woman always managed to keep her cool with a smile. But now. Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

He frowned slightly, "Let's go."

Rosemary was puzzled; where were they gonna go? Maxwell was really something else, always coming up with new antics.

Seeing her stand still, looking guarded and taking a step back as if he was some creepy guy trying to kidnap a decent woman, Maxwell felt a tightness in his chest out of annoyance, his voice laced with icy sarcasm, "If you wanna know who that person is, play nice and follow me."

"Just tell me the name; it's the dead of night, not safe for a lone man and woman."

Maxwell's face was beyond ugly now, his grip on the doorknob so tight the veins on the back of his hand stood out, a clear sign of his fury. He gritted his teeth, "Rosemary, what exactly do you think I'd do to you?"

"Who knows?" Rosemary tilted her chin up, standing half a head shorter but not losing an inch of her defiant stance. The disdain in her eyes couldn't be more obvious, "You've been sticking to me like a bad smell lately, and aside from Victoria, there's no other woman around for you to get your kicks. It's not unusual for a guy to get a screw loose when he's frustrated."

"Me? With you?" Maxwell's frosty gaze ran over her, "Seems like you're not just brainless but also way too full of yourself. A woman who couldn't spark an ounce of interest in me even after three years of marriage is bound to be just as dull if another three years passed."

This guy was really a piece of work! Losing her cool, Rosemary grabbed a shoehorn and swung it at him, only to have her wrist caught swiftly by Maxwell, "All prickly and quick to throw punches, what are you, a porcupine in human form?"

He dragged her out, pinning her hands behind her back with one hand, and tossed the shoehorn on the ground, almost embracing her as he led her towards the elevator.

Rosemary stiffened against his chest, her mind racing not with anger but with the sudden realization: She wasn't wearing a bra!

Although it was winter and the pajamas were thick, not showing much at a glance, the close contact made the irregularity unmistakable.

She tensed up her voice, "Let go; I can walk on my own."

Maxwell looked down at her, "You think I'd trust you?"

"Then let me go change into something more appropriate, at least to face confrontation with some dignity," Rosemary was not sure if Maxwell had noticed anything amiss. She glanced up at him, but his expression was as cold as ever, showing no signs of change.

She couldn't tell if it was the lack of a bra making her more self-conscious, but she felt every bit of friction with acute discomfort while they moved.

Embarrassed and annoyed, she felt like her head was going to explode, and yet Maxwell seemed unfazed. There was no outlet for her frustration.

Out of the blue, Maxwell added, "Even if you dressed in king's robe, you couldn't intimidate anyone."

Damn him, she thought, may he never get Victoria in this lifetime!

Eventually, she found herself in the elevator, with Maxwell's car waiting downstairs. Once in the car, he tossed his jacket at her, "Put it on; your clothes are an eyesore."

"An eyesore and you won't let me change?" Rosemary was fuming but still pulled the jacket over her head and buttoned it up, even though she was angry.

Maxwell’s lips were pressed tight, his gaze sweeping over her briefly before returning to the road ahead.

Despite his nonchalant demeanor, she had the nagging suspicion that his gaze had lingered on her chest.

The drive to their destination was brief, just half an hour. Rosemary eyed the upscale residential complex, her brow arched in confusion, "Here?"

"Yeah."

Such complexes usually required an owner's permission to enter, and even for visitors, there was a need for visual confirmation calls. But the security guard merely glanced at Maxwell's license plate and respectfully opened the gate.

Rosemary clicked her tongue twice, such capitalist flair!

At suite 2302 in building A, Maxwell pushed open the ajar door and entered. Rosemary hesitated for a split second before following.

Inside, the scene was nothing like Rosemary had expected. The living room was filled with a dozen of people; besides a trembling Stacey in the corner of the sofa and a woman Rosemary didn't recognize, the rest were bulky men in black suits, obviously Maxwell's bodyguards.

Rosemary was taken aback for a second, "Stacey?"

Stacey, already on the verge of tears when Maxwell entered, didn't get a chance to well up before spotting Rosemary.

Her pitiful demeanor instantly changed to a towering rebuke, "Rosemary, did you call these people? What are you trying to pull? If you dare do anything to me, I’ll tell Dad and he’ll deal with you!"

She had always turned to Larry for backup whenever Rosemary bullied her, leading to Rosemary getting a beating every time. This time was no exception.

But Rosemary just sneered, "Fine by me, I’ll call him. Complain all you want, but no false accusations; these guys are obviously not within my pay grade."

Before Stacey could respond, Maxwell's indifferent voice echoed, "Is that everything?"

He was addressing the bodyguards. They nodded, "Yes."

"Have them repeat what they just confessed," Maxwell raised his hand to check the time, a sign of his growing impatience.

Stacey, though fearful of the man, refused to show any weakness in front of Rosemary. She huffed and turned her head away.

But before she could fully turn, a bodyguard grabbed her chin, twisting it back forcefully, "Spill it if you don't want it to get ugly!"