Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

Maxwell let go of Rosemary, who was glaring at him with a furious look, the clear love bite marks on her neck from his unrestrained passion still visible.

If she had a knife in her hand right now, she'd probably be hacking at him without a second thought. Did she look even slightly scared? Not at all!

Maxwell didn't bite, his gaze landing on Martin's hand. He had used his fingerprint to unlock the door just now.

For the scions of wealthy families, emotional intelligence was a basic course, and the first lesson of EQ was reading the room. So even though Maxwell didn't say a word, Martin got the hint right away.

"Sorry, it was urgent before; didn't have time to delete it."

It was indeed a faux pas on his part; Martin opened the door and fiddled with the touchscreen for a bit, erasing his fingerprint from the system.

Maxwell was distant, not even bothering to toss out a courtesy invite to come in and sit, just standing at the entrance with a look that screamed “time to leave”, “What's up? It's late.”

"Just passing by, heard from the security downstairs that something went down last night; thought I’d check it out."

The truth was the security guard had phoned him that morning, spilling the beans on all the drama from last night.

"Where were you headed that brought you straight through River Manor?"

The two men locked eyes in mid-air, Martin's face the picture of innocence, not a hint of guilt even if he was lying, creating a palpable tension as if swords were drawn.

Martin dropped a location that was indeed on the way.

Rosemary pointed to the hallway outside and coldly told Maxwell, “Get out!”

“Rosemary,” Maxwell called her name, his handsome face showing no emotion, hard to read but the warning was crystal clear. NôvelDrama.Org © 2024.

Rosemary's voice suddenly spiked, her emotions raw, eyes red-rimmed, not caring about tearing down the facade in front of a stranger, laying bare her crumbling marriage, “Get out, I said go!”

Maxwell's expression turned icy, his brows knitting tightly, his hand reaching out to grab Rosemary.

Rosemary stood her ground, either too furious to react or unsure of his intentions, but Maxwell's hand never made contact with her - it was intercepted by Martin mid-way.

“How about we go grab a drink?”

“Martin,” Maxwell's eyes narrowed, his tone icy, “you're overstepping.”

Despite his usually gentle demeanor, Martin didn't back down an inch from Maxwell's imposing presence, “I'm not trying to meddle in your marital issues, but if you stay here tonight, you're only going to make things worse, not better.”

“Maxwell, she doesn't want to see you right now.”

Not just now, Rosemary never wanted to lay eyes on him again in her life!

The room fell into an eerie silence. After a standoff, Maxwell ended up leaving with Martin.

Jason had driven off, and Maxwell got into Martin's car. Martin's voice was cool, that innate refinement that had been ingrained since he was twelve or thirteen was, for the moment, stripped away, “Where to? Night Club?”

“Yeah,” Maxwell closed his eyes feigning sleep, clearly not in the mood for a chat.

But Martin didn't let the earlier conversation drop; he uttered, “You can tell, Rosemary's dead set on divorcing you.”

Maxwell's response was cold, with a hint of aggression, “So?”

Martin went on, “So, even without me in the picture, there would be others, like,”

He glanced at Maxwell, who was clearly not in the best of moods, paused, and then continued, “the guy you fought with last night.”

Maxwell slowly opened his eyes, “Are you admitting you have feelings for her?”

The accusation in his voice was clear and direct. Martin pulled over, took a cigarette from the pack and placed it between his lips. He didn’t have any craving for smoke, nor did he do it often, “Maxwell, what right do you have to question me? Whether I like her or not, I haven't overstepped. But what about Victoria? How are you going to handle that? One woman at home, another on the side?”

He was a bit out of control tonight, especially after hearing Rosemary call his name through the door. So, even though he hadn't thrown a punch, his words were aggressive, not in line with his usual character or approach.

But Martin knew he wasn't in a position to be questioning these things.

So, he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to subdue the restlessness stirring within him, putting back on his amiable veneer, “Rosemary's beautiful and capable. Guys chasing after her are a dime a dozen. You might stop one or two, but can you stop them all? And you know Rosemary, if she really falls for one of them, she won't back down easily. What will you do then, lock her up if you can't bless their union?”

Maxwell's jaw was clenched tight. As Martin finished his last sentence, there was a flicker in Maxwell's eyes.

“Have you considered that her pushing for divorce could be out of jealousy over Ms. Temple?”

Exes were always a delicate matter, and Maxwell hadn't been discreet, plus the media, always hungry for a story, could easily fuel misunderstandings.

Maxwell stared out at the monotonous night scenery and finally grunted out few words, “Won't happen.”

His cold demeanor didn't seem typical of someone in love. Martin had thought Maxwell might not be as indifferent to Rosemary as he seemed, but now it looked like he was overthinking it.

“You still hung up on that girl you were chasing before? If you really can't shake it off, why not end things amicably and give it another shot? A guy as good-looking, young, wealthy, and fit as you, unless someone's blind, they'd hardly turn you down a second time.”

The first rejection was years ago. Martin merely knew that Maxwell's confession had failed, and he'd even been in a slump for a while. Who the girl was, he had no idea, but then Victoria came into the picture.

Maxwell scoffed, “Turns out she was that blind one.”

Looked like he still had feelings for her.

"Come on, spill the beans about who the girl is." The two had been buddies since childhood, always hanging out together, and the crowd they knew was pretty much from the same circle. Maybe there was a chance he knew her, "Archer and I can brainstorm some ideas for you."

"Archer?" Maxwell raised an eyebrow, not meaning to be sarcastic, but clearly not impressed with the guy's game when it came to chasing skirts, "Let him bag Yvonne first; then we'll talk."

That was gonna be tough.

The next day, Rosemary was up with the chickens; she had to get back to work at Heritage Revive Studio.

Her pad was a good trek from the studio, so she hit the road an hour early. Nearing the place, she got a message from Yolanda: a snapshot of someone hugging a big bouquet.

The bouquet was a mix of blue baby's breath and blue-and-white roses, massive, with the person standing behind it, not even a strand of hair in sight.

"??" Rosemary shot back two question marks, "A secret admirer's gift to you?"

"Seems like it's from your hubby."

Before Rosemary could respond, Yolanda's second text rolled in, "It's for Victoria; the campus forum is blowing up. Three years since graduation and some people are already married with kids old enough for school, yet she has the nerve to post it on the school forum. Doesn’t she have anyone nearby to congratulate her, or what?"

Rosemary didn't reply because she had just reached the studio door, only to see a bouquet identical to the one in the photo, currently being hefted with some difficulty by the florist.