Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

Chapter 11

The bustling seafood joint was thick with the scent of life and cooking.

Rosemary's slightly curly hair was pulled up into a simple bun with a clip. As she looked down, stray locks fell and covered her profile, making her fair skin stand out even more against her hair.

She pointed at the menu, turned her head, and muttered something to the guy next to her. He nodded, and Rosemary cracked a smile, reaching out to flag down a waiter.

Archer raised an eyebrow, "Looks like your wife is having the time of her life without you, huh?"

Maxwell didn't say a word and just turned to leave the private room.

Back in the seafood joint, Hans was chugging a beer, still in disbelief, "Are you really Rose? The Rose who restored that severely damaged porcelain vase?"

Rosemary was speechless. Hans had asked her the same question over and over again on their way there, and by now, she didn't even know how to respond anymore.

Oswald kicked him under the table, "Ease up on the booze. Rose, don't mind him."

Rosemary obediently replied, "Okay."

"Food's up; careful, it's hot!" The waiter announced, bringing over a plate of steamed clams with minced garlic. Just as Rosemary picked up her utensils, her phone rang.

She put down her utensils and fished out her phone from her bag. Her finger was about to slide the answer button when she saw Maxwell's name on the screen. She paused, didn't answer, and eventually put the phone on silent mode and back on the table.

The phone rang twice and then stopped. Rosemary wasn't surprised; Maxwell was never the patient type. In the past, if she was a tad slow to answer, he'd hang up.

But what was different this time was that shortly after the call ended, a message popped up.

She tapped on it and was taken aback the next second - it was from Maxwell, just some blunt words, "Come over here."

Rosemary frowned, her gaze inadvertently sweeping around, finally resting on the black Bentley at the entrance of the opposite five-star hotel.

Maxwell's car was custom-made; she could recognize it at a glance. Rosemary ignored it and continued with her meal, yet clearly distracted.

Hans thought she was being shy because she wasn't eating much, so he helped her out by putting some shrimp in her bowl, "Don't be so formal. The folks at Heritage Revive Studio are chill. Just treat us like friends. And if you ever need to take a day off, Oswald won't stop you for a second. He'd be glad to see the back of us."

It was tough to keep people in their line of work. Casting aside promotions, just finding a boyfriend was a nightmare when they were dealing with dead things all day long. After a hard day's work, there was barely any time left.

Few young people could endure the hardship and loneliness, so Oswald tried to make concessions whenever he could, just to keep people around. They were pretty laid-back with the rules.

Rosemary smiled, "Thanks."

She was about to dig into the shrimp when another message from Maxwell popped up, "Shall I come there, or will you come over?"

Even through the screen, she could feel his simmering anger and displeasure.

She knew Maxwell's temper all too well. She quickly finished the shrimp Hans had served her, put down her utensils, and apologized, "Sorry Oswald, I've got an emergency to deal with. My Uber's here, and the driver keeps rushing me. I need to go."

Oswald was easy-going, "Sure, go ahead. I'm about to head out myself. Can't keep up with you young folks anymore."

Rosemary apologized to the others and then picked up her bag and made a beeline for the Bentley. She got into the passenger seat with urgency, "Let's go."

Maxwell's already sour mood darkened a few shades more, and his anger became harder to contain. Instead of driving off, he reached out and grabbed her chin, "Am I that embarrassing to you?"

Rosemary winced a bit from the pain but refused to back down in front of Maxwell. During their three-year marriage, she had always been the one to give in, and it never earned her an ounce of his tenderness. She wasn't about to start pampering him now.

"We're getting a divorce. I don't want people getting the wrong idea, thinking I'm still tangled up with my ex."

He stared at her soft lips, his rough fingertips pressing down, "Did you enjoy the shrimp?"

Rosemary caught the hidden meaning behind his words right away.

Ha, typical male ego. Even if he didn't want her, he couldn't stand the thought of someone else touching her.

But she was determined to show him she wouldn't be oppressed. She raised an eyebrow at him, "Of course, it was..."

Before she could finish, Maxwell's lips crashed down on hers, cutting off her words. The scent of tobacco mixed with a faint smell of alcohol invaded her nostrils; his kiss was as dominant as he was, leaving no room for refusal.

Rosemary was caught off guard. In all their time married, he rarely kissed her, and any loss of control was always within limits, always able to stop on a dime.

But this time.

In the brief moment her thoughts drifted, his hand had already crept up under her blouse, his rough palm tracing her waistline, hinting at moving higher.

For a second, Rosemary had the illusion that if she didn't stop him, Maxwell might actually have his way with her in the car.

She closed her eyes and made a risky move.

"Mmph," he inhaled sharply, releasing her, but his lips were still dangerously close, as if ready to kiss her again any second.

Maxwell wiped his mouth with his finger, revealing a trace of blood, and smirked, colder than if he hadn't smiled at all, "You bit me?"

Rosemary wiped her lips with her sleeve, visibly disgusted, "What's the matter, Victoria not satisfying you? Got you running around all hot and bothered like a rutting deer?"

Maxwell was unfazed, "We're still married. It's safer to touch you than her."

The word "safer" was dripping with irony! Rosemary laughed out of sheer anger, wishing she could slap him right then and there, "If she knew how lousy you are, she'd probably dump you again, huh?"

Before her voice trailed off, a knocking sound came from outside the car - it was someone tapping on the window.

Both turned to look and saw Hans bending over, trying to see if anyone was inside the car. The car windows were tinted with privacy film - one could see out from the inside, but no one could peek in from the outside. Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

Maxwell didn't bother rolling down his window, just gave Hans a once-over with a picky eye. Then the man's voice, cool and mocking, cut through the air, "This is the new guy you've hooked up with?"

Hans wasn't decked out in luxury brands, but his clothes were top-notch, and the watch on his wrist was worth over one grand. To Maxwell, who threw around money like it was nothing, that was chump change - not even enough to cover his bill for a single meal.

Before Rosemary could respond, Maxwell's gaze slid from Hans to the seafood joint across the street, "You made a huge fuss about divorcing me, all for a guy who takes you to these kind of grub shacks?"

Each of his words was nastier and more spiteful than the last, "Rosemary, have you had your fill of exotic delicacies and now you're craving some plain ol' porridge?"

Rosemary looked at his cold profile, her heart sinking as she thought about all the wasted years, "Yeah, Mr. Templeton, you're loaded and easy on the eyes, and you don't think twice about dropping hundreds of thousands even millions on gifts. But your wife would rather chow down at a street food stall than stay married to you. Makes you wonder why, doesn't it?"