Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

Droplets of wine trailed down Maxwell's sharp brows and jawline, a rare moment of disarray for the always elegant and distinguished scion.

His attractive lips tightened into a sharp curve, exuding an imposing aura without anger.

Rosemary, fearless, tilted her chin up and gave him a disdainful glance before turning to leave.

"Wow," Archer couldn't help but exclaim. Rosemary was truly one of a kind, the first ever to splash a drink on Maxwell!

"I pray Ms. Chambers can run fast.”

Maxwell glanced at him, noting Archer remained clean and unaffected.

He coldly interrupted, "I'd pray you mute."

Without another word, Maxwell paid him no more attention and headed straight toward the direction Rosemary had left.

Despite his tall frame and long legs, his walk was not hurried, almost leisurely, yet his commanding presence made everyone he passed unconsciously lower their heads, as if fearing they would be silenced for good.

Rosemary stood waiting at the elevator entrance, but whether it was just her bad luck or all in her head, the lift was taking forever.

Debating whether to take the nearby emergency exit, she heard footsteps approaching from behind. Before she could even see who it was, she was suddenly hoisted up!

Hoisted for real—her upper body hanging upside down, her stomach pressing against the man's shoulder, she nearly threw up on the spot!

"Ding”! Just then, the elevator arrived, the metal doors sliding open. Twisting in discomfort, Rosemary said, "Maxwell, put me down!"

The position was unbearably comfortable, her head throbbing with a rush of blood, her stomach churning in protest!

Maxwell remained silent, carrying her into the elevator.

Rosemary felt that in one more second, she would pass out due to the immense pressure on her brain. She forcefully slapped Maxwell's back, "Put me down, I'm gonna vomit!"

Maxwell answered, "You better hold it in."

There were no specific threats, but both his tone and demeanor conveyed his fury at the moment.

The rules of the Night Club were strict – no rough treatment of guests were allowed, but now.

She was carried by Maxwell from the sixth floor to the first, passing countless staff and cameras, but not a soul stepped in to stop him. This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

In the end, Rosemary was practically tossed into the car!

Before she could recover from the dizziness of being upside down, Maxwell grabbed her jaw, his tall frame looming over her.

Kneeling on one knee on the leather seat, he looked down at her from above, "It seems I've indulged you too much these past three years, giving you the audacity to challenge me."

Maxwell's damp hair still reeked of whiskey, the scent spreading out the confined space of the car.

Rosemary swallowed hard, leaning back as much as possible to avoid the smell, "Since we detest each other, let's hasten the divorce. It's just paperwork, won't take up much of your time."

"Detest each other?" Maxwell chuckled, a voice oozing with charisma.

It was undeniable that this man's lowered voice was very sexy, whether it was the way he spoke, or his husky tone.

Maxwell ripped open his shirt, revealing his taut abs right before Rosemary's eyes. The sleek lines of his muscles stretching from his abdomen to his waistband, utterly tempting.

"You're wrong. My interest in you is piqued. Lately, I've been thinking about you beneath me, in different positions and with different intensities."

He gazed into her eyes, his lips barely moving, "the scenarios."

Rosemary's pupils contracted.

Despite the blatant indecency of his words, when spoken by him, they didn't seem lewd but rather carried a raw sexual tension.

The phrase 'a wolf in sheep's clothing' suddenly visualized in her mind.

Regardless of the circumstances, Rosemary was unwavering in her decision to divorce him, impervious to his persuasive words. Her cheeks might have flushed, but not from shyness.

Rather, from sheer infuriation!

"Maxwell, I seriously wonder if Victoria denies you, making you this frustrated."

Maxwell's eyes narrowed, his hand gliding down her neck, across her collarbone, then resting on her stomach.

Sensing danger, Rosemary tensed up, fearing he might go further, she blurted out, "Isn't she your precious darling? How can you justify this to her?"

In the dimly lit underground parking, the man's long fingers leisurely slipped under her clothes, tracing up her delicate waist.

Despite the suggestive touch, his voice was with sarcasm, "Of course, the darling I hold in my palm should not be touched; she must be carefully cherished, but you, you're different."

In other words, she was not like Victoria; Victoria was the apple of his eye, she was just grass underfoot, to be trampled at will!

Even though they were divorcing, Rosemary had to admit his words stung.

Her red lips curved into a brazen challenge, "Well, I'm sorry, but even if I'm not cherished, I have no desire to be groped by a pig."

The next second, she felt the man's grip on her waist tighten abruptly – seems like she had really hit his nerve.

Seizing the moment, Rosemary pushed against his chest, and, unprepared, Maxwell actually staggered back.

He fell back into the seat, and Rosemary turned to flee the car. But Maxwell wouldn't let her get away that easily. With his long arms, he encircled her waist, pulling her back towards him.

The car's cabin was cramped and her balance was already unsteady, his pull caused her to collide against him.

"Oof!" Rosemary winced in pain and curled up. The sore spot was delicate, so she bit back a groan, "You're so forceful."

But before she could finish, a familiar, gentle voice came from outside, "Rosemary, are you in the car?"

Hearing that voice, Rosemary stiffened instantly. It was Martin!