Whispers of Destiny His Belated Love
Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Rosemary was a bit tipsy and slower on the uptake than usual. It wasn’t until Martin called out “Maxwell” that she managed to match that mocking tone with the face behind it.

She had no clue why Maxwell would make a comeback out of the blue. But she knew what he was about to say and she didn’t want Martin to get wind of it.

Almost on autopilot, Rosemary stood up from her seat and moved toward Maxwell, but her get–up was so hasty that her booze–soaked brain was numbed, causing her to stumble and fall right into the guy’s arms.

Maxwell didn’t budge, letting her crash into him while his handsome face was nothing but frosty indifference.

Rosemary’s legs were like jelly, forcing her to cling onto his arms to barely keep herself upright. She kinda regretted knocking back so much booze!

She looked up at Maxwell and whispered so only they could hear, “Don’t you dare spill.”

Her voice had an unintended flirtatiousness and a tinge of vulnerability. Maxwell’s jaw was set, his features sharp and grim, “What’s the matter, scared he’ll replace out you drugged him? Afraid to shatter the innocent image you’ve painted in his eyes?”

pure

and

Rosemary frowned, her displeasure evident, which to Maxwell, felt like a tacit admission, stirring a tempest inside him.

Yet, the drunken woman was oblivious to his anger and instead complained impatiently, “Didn’t you leave already? Why are you back?”

Maxwell suddenly let out a half–smile, “My bad for intruding, huh?”

Rosemary, irked by his sarcasm, scrunched her brows, “Think what you want.”

After steadying herself, she let go of his hand, turned to Martin, and said her goodbyes, “I’m taking off. Don’t sweat what I said earlier. I’ll treat you to a meal when I’m free next time.”

Clearly, it was just lip service, but it didn’t stop someone from taking it to heart.

Martin nodded, “Be careful on your way.”

“See ya,” Rosemary turned to leave, giving Maxwell the cold shoulder. As she passed by him, her brows furrowed uncomfortably, and her steps were a bit floaty from the alcohol.

This was the second time Maxwell saw her drunk, her cheeks and lips flushed, her eyes a touch enticingly hazy.

Maxwell watched her retreating figure, his thin lips tightening, a dark turbulence brewing in his eyes.

Rosemary made her way downstairs and stood on the curb to hail a cab. It was peak taxi time, and this area was high–end, with hardly a cab in sight, let alone a vacant one.

Rosemary, throwing image to the wind, plopped down on a curbstone and whipped out her ride–hailing app.

Squinting, she leaned in to make out the display, only for her arm to be yanked forcefully, lifting her right off

the curbstone.

No need to look to know who it was. The man’s presence was domineering and pervasive, with a strong hint of aggression.

Rosemary’s arm hurt. She twisted her brow and struggled, “Let go.”

Before she could finish, Maxwell hauled her into the car with brute force.

Jason, in the driver’s seat, was startled by the commotion in the back. He turned to see his boss pinning Mrs. Templeton to the backseat like wrangling a chicken.

Rosemary, resisting with no hint of frailty, drunk and more forceful than a bull, even less measured than when

15.04

sober

Sober Rosemary would never dare to scratch Maxwell! She clawed at his neck, leaving a glaring red mark, a burning pain. He even thought if his hair weren’t so short for her to grab, she’d have acted like a total harridan, “Rosemary,”

Maxwell, face like ice, pinned her flailing hands to the seat, kneeling beside her in a commanding and somewhat forceful pose.

To others, it was a steamy yet aggressive posture, but to Jason, the sole spectator, it was just hair–raiding. He was terrified Mrs. Templeton would tick off the boss and end up ditched on a freeway to fend for herself.

Rosemary bit her lip, her gaze on the face before her, and suddenly deflated. They were getting divorced anyway, no need to make a scene. What could he possibly do to her?

Maxwell sensed her struggle cease, his frosty face easing up as he let her go, “Head back to Meadowlark Retreat.”

He touched the scratch on his neck, his fingertip coming away with a trace of blood. The man’s tongue touched his cheek, eliciting a faint “tsk“.

Rosemary shifted to the other side, curling up against the car door, her voice weary and faint, “Jason, just drop me off somewhere easy to catch a ride.”

She wanted to head back to her own place, without troubling Jason to go out of his way for her. Jason didn’t dare respond; he glanced at Maxwell in the rear–view mirror and saw his stony expression, silent.

But after years with Maxwell, Jason could read him with just one look. Ignoring Rosemary’s request, he sped up, heading straight for Meadowlark Retreat.

Rosemary frowned, not familiar with the roads here, reluctantly opening her phone’s navigation. Maxwell glanced at her phone and then at her, his tone laced with derision, “With that skinny frame of yours, you think I’d even bother to do something with you?”

Rosemary shot back, “No worries there. After all, Mr. Templeton has an unusual taste.”

She might not be a 36D chest, but she was well–proportioned, with curves where needed and grace where expected. Victoria might have had a dancer’s figure and poise, but she didn’t have Rosemary’s curves.

Clearly, Maxwell didn’t mind Victoria’s lack of assets, yet he complained about her being skinny. Was this the so–called difference between the first crush and other women?

Rosemary couldn’t be bothered with him and spoke to the driver instead, “Jason, please, send me to my apartment.”

Jason gave her an apologetic glance through the rear–view mirror, continuing on his way. The robotic voice of the phone’s GPS chirped, “You have veered off course, recalculating route.”

Rosemary frowned, biting back words she wanted to say. As the off–course alerts piled up, and no alternative routes ahead, she finally toughened up, “Jason, just pull over here!”

Maxwell shot her a cold glance, “Wanting to go back for Martin?”

So not wanting to ride with him meant she was running back to someone else? What kind of wack logic was

that!

Seeing her silent, Maxwell looked at her displeased little face with a half–smirk, “You think it’s just coincidence you bumped into him tonight? He’s out on a blind date, at this hour.”

He glanced at his watch, “You’d probably have to track him down to a love hotel.”

Rosemary snorted; it was clear he was just picking a fight. She tilted her chin defiantly and shot back, “Then do me a favor and check which love hotel it is, given Martin’s build and physique.”

15:04

sober.

Sober Rosemary would never dare to scratch Maxwell! She clawed at his neck, leaving a glaring red mark, a burning pain. He even thought if his hair weren’t so short for her to grab, she’d have acted like a total harridan. “Rosemary.”

Maxwell, face like ice, pinned her flailing hands to the seat, krieeling beside her in a commanding and somewhat forceful pose.

To others, it was a steamy yet aggressive posture, but to Jason, the sole spectator, it was just hair–raising. He was terrified Mrs. Templeton would tick off the boss and end up ditched on a freeway to fend for herself.

Rosemary bit her lip, her gaze on the face before her, and suddenly deflated. They were getting divorced anyway, no need to make a scene. What could he possibly do to her?

Maxwell sensed her struggle cease, his frosty face easing up as he let her go, “Head back to Meadowlark

Retreat.”

He touched the scratch on his neck, his fingertip coming away with a trace of blood. The man’s tongue touched his cheek, eliciting a faint “tsk“.

Rosemary shifted to the other side, curling up against the car door, her voice weary and faint, “Jason, just drop me off somewhere easy to catch a ride.”

She wanted to head back to her own place, without troubling Jason to go out of his way for her. Jason didn’t dare respond; he glanced at Maxwell in the rear–view mirror and saw his stony expression, silent.

But after years with Maxwell, Jason could read him with just one look. Ignoring Rosemary’s request, he sped up, heading straight for Meadowlark Retreat.

Rosemary frowned, not familiar with the roads here, reluctantly opening her phone’s navigation. Maxwell glanced at her phone and then at her, his tone laced with derision, “With that skinny frame of yours, you think I’d even bother to do something with you?”

Rosemary shot back, “No worries there. After all, Mr. Templeton has an unusual taste.”

She might not be a 36D chest, but she was well–proportioned, with curves where needed and grace where expected. Victoria might have had a dancer’s figure and poise, but she didn’t have Rosemary’s curves.

Clearly, Maxwell didn’t mind Victoria’s lack of assets, yet he complained about her being skinny. Was this the so–called difference between the first crush and other women?

Rosemary couldn’t be bothered with him and spoke to the driver instead, “Jason, please, send me to my apartment.”

Jason gave her an apologetic glance through the rear–view mirror, continuing on his way. The robotic voice of the phone’s GPS chirped, “You have veered off course, recalculating route.”

Rosemary frowned, biting back words she wanted to say. As the off–course alerts piled up, and no alternative routes ahead, she finally toughened up, “Jason, just pull over here!”

Maxwell shot her a cold glance, “Wanting to go back for Martin?”

So not wanting to ride with him meant she was running back to someone else? What kind of wack logic wast

that!

Seeing her silent, Maxwell looked at her displeased little face with a half–smirk, “You think it’s just coincidence you bumped into him tonight? He’s out on a blind date, at this hour.”

He glanced at his watch, “You’d probably have to track him down to a love hotel.”

Rosemary snorted, it was clear he was just picking a fight. She tilted her chin defiantly and shot back, “Then do me a favor and check which love hotel it is, given Martin’s build and physique.”

Chapter 31

She leaned into Maxwell’s ear and whispered something she’d never dare say normally, “Handling two at once

should be no sweat for him.”

Chapter 32