Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

Chapter 131

Maxwell and an animal, this was like a lose-lose situation; no matter how she answered, she was walking into a trap.

Thankfully, Maxwell wasn't the type to sweat the small stuff anymore. Seeing that Rosemary wasn't keen on chatting about it, he didn't bug her further.

He shut the car door, walked around to the driver's side, and hopped in.

The vibe inside the car was definitely off. The guy was stone-faced, looking straight ahead like a "keep out" sign was plastered on his forehead. Rosemary started playing mute too, not poking the bear by saying she didn't want his ride.

She had just downed a honey water back at the villa and was feeling a bit thirsty. So she grabbed an unopened bottle of mineral water from the glove compartment and was about to open it when she caught Maxwell's glance.

Rosemary paused, lifted the water bottle, and turned to ask, "Want some?" Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

Maxwell just snorted, and whatever that meant was anyone's guess. Rosemary rolled her eyes at him, unscrewed the cap, and brought the bottle to her lips. But the dude's gaze was so intense that it was hard to ignore.

She handed him the bottle, "Here."

But Maxwell dodged it, "What's this? You nagging my skills and now trying to make nice?"

She couldn't help but be impressed by the guy's mental gymnastics. But it could be understood though; coming from the high-and-mighty Templeton family, Maxwell had been surrounded by ulterior motives since he was a kid.

Rosemary gave up on him, tilted her head back, and took a big gulp. The icy water slid down her throat to her stomach, sending a shiver through her.

"Fine, my bad. The nob’s undeserving of sympathy, so let it all go to hell."

At the apartment building, as soon as the car stopped, Rosemary bolted out, quick as if she was being chased by some natural disaster.

The winter night was dead quiet, with only the howling wind rustling the leaves. Engulfed by the mist, the streetlights which were not bright to begin with became even dimmer. All she could see were a few scattered pedestrians hurrying by and the security guard on duty.

Rosemary lived in the innermost building. The biting wind felt like it was slicing her skin, and she huddled deeper into her clothes, burying her chin into her scarf.

In the still night air, a mess of footsteps and raunchy jokes reached Rosemary's ears. She looked up to see a few blonde dudes emerge from the dark, dressed like trouble and spewing filth - clearly up to no good.

The path was wide. Rosemary stuck to the right, and they were on the left. They should've been ships passing in the night, but as the gap closed, she noticed them edging her way.

She looked up and locked eyes with one of them, who flashed a tobacco-stained grin. She didn't know the guy, but the malice in his gaze was enough to send a chill down her spine.

Rosemary glanced toward the entrance where the security guard, presumably cold, was sitting in the booth.

At that moment, Maxwell had just finished a cigarette. Once the smell cleared from his car, he prepared to leave. He glanced in the right-side mirror; something shiny caught his eye from the passenger seat.

He looked closer. It was a metallic charm, wedged between the seat and the glove compartment.

Rosemary must've left in a hurry and didn't notice it fell or got torn off.

Maxwell picked it up, and sure enough, the chain was broken. Frowning, he fiddled with it for a moment before stepping out of the car and heading into the apartment complex.

He brushed past a gang of rowdy, shabby-looking young men. Their unsavory talk made Maxwell's expression chill a bit more.

Not far ahead, he spotted Rosemary standing by the roadside. He approached with a frown, "What's up?"

Rosemary jumped, but seeing it was him, her tension eased. Shaking her head, she said, "Nothing."

She couldn't help but glance back at the group walking away. She had felt that guy's ill intent and thought they might try something. After all, crossing from one side of a wide road to the other was definitely abnormal.

But nothing. They just passed by, reeking of booze, still lingering in the air.

Maxwell's gaze followed hers to the retreating figures; his handsome face set in a hard line, "What, those guys bothered you?"

"No." Rosemary shook her head again, and then frowned, "Why did you come over?"

Maxwell detected the disdain in her voice, his eyes darkening. He tossed her the charm, "Keep it safe. Next time you're this careless, I'll just chuck it."

Rosemary caught it, recognizing it as a cheap charm bought from a night market before, something she hung on her bag.

"Just toss it. It's not worth anything, and it's broken anyway," she nonchalantly walked to the trash can and threw it in.

Maxwell watched her toss it, "Hmph."

Without a word, he turned and left, poker-faced. Passing by the guard booth, he asked, "Those guys who just left, are they residents here?"

The guards knew exactly who Maxwell meant without needing to ask - they were that conspicuous.

"No, they were here to see someone. Never been here before."

"Okay," Maxwell's brow remained furrowed, not letting his guard down.

Noticing his expression, the guard got nervous, "Mr. Templeton, we have top-notch security here. All visitors have to be confirmed by residents and are logged."

"So, ‘confirmed’ means they're not bad guys? And logging them prevents violence?"

Those guys looked shady, sure, and their language was crude, but how'd that connect to violence?

But the guard wouldn't dare question Maxwell to his face.

"We have 24-hour surveillance, covering every corner outside the apartments to ensure there’s no blind side."

Maxwell shot him a cold glance, "So you'll watch someone get attacked on camera, and by the time you get there, what, a grave's been dug?"

Damn, was he just looking for a fight? This apartment complex wasn't exactly some stand-alone villa where every resident was the cookie-cutter type. They couldn't just go around arresting people because they had a funky sense of style, could they?

They were security guards, not some old-school disciplinarians waiting to pounce on anyone who stepped out of line at the school gate.

But Maxwell didn't see anything off with what he said. He kept staring down the security guard until the poor guy was freaking out, breaking out in a cold sweat and starting to stutter, "So we will step up the patrols. Maybe do a top-to-bottom sweep in shifts."

After an eternity, Maxwell finally grunted an agreement.

The guard, whose heart had been in his throat, finally relaxed. Once Maxwell was out of sight, he let out a huge sigh of relief.

Damn, that scared the crap out of him!