Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

Maxwell glanced down at Rosemary, who was frowning. Even though she was forced to lean into his embrace, her gaze was fixed on Hogan.

It looked as if she had eyes only for the guy across from her. His hand slid from her shoulder to her waist, his fingers tightening brutally to yank her attention back to him.

Maxwell's eyes were an opaque shade as he said, “Let's go.”

Jason, with a keen sense of timing, had already parked the car right beside them, the door just a reach away.

“No.” Rosemary barely got a word out before Maxwell forcefully whisked her into the car.

Hogan's face darkened in an instant. He made a move to intervene, but his outstretched hand was blocked by bodyguards flanking him.

In the blink of an eye, Rosemary was in Maxwell's car, the door slammed shut, and they sped away from the hospital at breakneck speed.

It wasn't just Jason in the car; Christ was also there.

Hogan's voice, mixing with the roar of the engine, reached the ears of the two people in the backseat with varying expressions, “Maxwell, if you dare force her, I swear I won't let you off the hook.”

He said “force” because he knew as an outsider he had no say in their affairs, no matter how strained their relationship was. Even if they were in the process of divorcing, as long as they were still married, it was within the bounds of reason.

He could only stand up for Rosemary if she didn't consent. Men understand men better than they understand women. The look in that guy's eyes just now was screaming intense “possession”. Knowing what could happen if a man lost control in such a state, Hogan, as a man himself, knew all too well.

But what Hogan imagined didn't happen. Not only did Maxwell refrain from doing anything, but he also let go of her as soon as the car door closed.

Now they were sitting side by side, with a good half-meter gap between them. No one spoke in the car; even the sound of breathing was so faint as to be nearly inaudible.

Rosemary turned her head, and there was Maxwell, eyes closed, leaning against the seatback in a feigned slumber. His long eyelashes cast a shadow on his face, his lips pressed, the heavy shadow outlining his features and profile in a chilling aloofness.

Christ glanced in the rearview mirror, saw the two acting like sworn enemies, giving each other the cold shoulder, and couldn't help but speak up, “Mrs. Templeton, there's a pharmacy coming up. Maybe you can grab some wound care stuff for Mr. Templeton. He's pretty banged up too, been back-to-back in meetings today without even a chance to hit the hospital. Mr. Abbott's been in the army for so many years, and he's no stranger to the toughest and most grueling special forces training. His strength and skills are nothing to scoff at.”

Maxwell kept his eyes closed, neither objecting to nor endorsing Christ's suggestion. Jason had already stopped the car by the pharmacy, and considerately got out to open the door for Rosemary.

Four pairs of eyes, both inside and outside the car, were fixed on her, especially Christ, who was this close to joining his hands in prayer, nodding and bowing, practically begging her.

And fearing she might refuse, he went the extra mile, listing few ointment names. With the window rolled down and his loud voice, the people around the neighboring shops all heard him, attracting

even more attention.

And then there was Jason, also sporting a look of earnest pleading.

Rosemary couldn't stand being looked at with such eyes by an elder, and she felt that if she didn't agree, Christ might just keep the door open and stay put even before Maxwell could say anything.

So she had been played, and she wasn't going to let Christ off easy, her tone mocking, “Christ, you're really going above and beyond, huh? Earning an assistant's pay, doing a mother's job.”

Which assistant cared about their boss to this extent? A grown man, begging a young girl, dignity be damned.

Christ gave an awkward laugh. He didn't mention that when Mr. Templeton was in a foul mood, it was him, the courtier who had to enter the CEO's office seventeen or eighteen times a day, who bore the brunt of it. Those nerve-wracking days were just no way to live. This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

He suspected he'd get a heart attack before he even retired!

Rosemary went down to buy the ointment. Other than iodine and gauze, she wasn't sure what else was used for treating wounds, but she had glanced at a few items earlier when she picked up Hogan's medication and had kept them in mind.

Back in the car, Rosemary tossed the purchased ointment at Maxwell and washed her hands of it.

Twenty minutes later, the car stopped outside the apartment building. She had barely stepped out when Maxwell followed.

Rosemary frowned and snapped at him, “Don't follow me.”

She was hungry and tired and didn't need any more torment from him.

Maxwell lifted the large bag of ointment she had bought at the pharmacy and shoved it in her face, “You bought the ointment; who else is gonna apply them to me?”

“You've got a great assistant; why don't you let him.”

Before she could finish, the car, which had never been turned off, drove away.

Maxwell gestured towards the car that had now blended into the traffic, impossible to find, “Looks like it's up to you to do it.”

Rosemary was clearly not going to agree, but Maxwell seemed to have no intention of asking her opinion. He just grabbed the ointment and strode towards her building as if he knew the place better than she did.

The security guard at the door didn't stop him, and even swiped his card to let him in. The tight security that required a resident's confirmation and an ID card registration for visitors was clearly just for show with him around.

Rosemary took a deep breath and followed, thinking about ignoring him and heading straight to a hotel, but she hadn't brought her ID.

“Maxwell, are you falling in love with me or what?”

The man didn't answer. She wasn't sure if he didn't want to respond, tacitly agreed, or thought her question was so dumb it wasn't worth acknowledging. The only sounds on the quiet path were their footsteps.

Rosemary continued on her own, “Or is it something else? This is seriously creepy, you know.”

About to get divorced, and then this happened out of the blue - who wouldn't be freaked out?

“If I were to fall for you, would that really be creepy?” Maxwell's voice sounded cold, as if he were angry, but when Rosemary turned to look at him, she saw the faintest curve on his lips.

Rosemary didn't hesitate with her response, “Yes.”

Maxwell's gaze drifted away from her face, “How high did you stack your pillows last night to come up with such an unrealistic fantasy?”

Rosemary gritted her teeth, "You've never brushed your teeth since the day you were born, have you?"

If he didn't like something, just said it straight up. No need to get nasty with words. She picked up the pace, aiming to beat Maxwell home and lock him out. Even if that wasn't possible, she'd grab her ID and hit up a hotel.

But she was fast, the guy was faster. The door had barely cracked open, and before Rosemary could shove it, Maxwell had already slipped through.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for the wallet on the shoe cabinet; her ID was in there. Her fingertips had barely grazed the leather when the door slammed shut behind her.

Maxwell propped an arm against the door, his other hand snaking around her waist, enveloping her in his presence.