Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

When Maxwell rocked up to the Night Club, the gang was already there.

Archer glanced at his crisp suit and the tie still around his neck and quipped, "You didn't just come straight from the office, did you?"

"Yeah."

"Man, your missus is about to bail on you, and you're hustling for cash like there's no tomorrow. What's the deal, gonna stuff your coffin with stacks of bills for company?"

"Any of your business?"

Maxwell took a seat next to him, with Martin on the other side.

He picked up the drink the waiter had poured for him and gave a casual toast to Martin; as he did it, the amber liquid swirled under the dim lights: “Get Rosemary to move out of your apartment.”

Martin wasn't surprised that Maxwell would know it, and he had no intention to hide it, "Maxwell, don't you think you're going a bit overboard with this? She's still a girl; lugging her suitcase around in the middle of the night was not safe."

Maxwell's features were hidden in shadow; wearing an expression frighteningly blank, he retorted coolly, "That's between me and my wife, Martin. It's none of your business." NôvelDrama.Org owns © this.

His tone was light, but the underlying warning was palpable.

Martin frowned, and his usual easy smile was gone, "Exactly because it's your private matter, you shouldn't be using your cutthroat business tactics on her."

Maxwell's face turned into a mask of cold fury, "And what right do you have to tell me how to treat her?"

The tension became almost visible around them; it seemed like a showdown was about to happen.

Martin met his gaze with calmness, “The Gellar family and the Chambers family go way back, and I've known Rosemary for ages. She's like a sister to me."

Maxwell's expression was frosty as he let out a scoff, "You sure about that? You're just seeing her as a sister?"

As the atmosphere got rigid to a point where it seemed they were on the verge of throwing punches, Archer suddenly stood up and clapped Martin on the shoulder, "Come on, help me grab a pack of smokes."

This excuse was hardly convincing. There were a few unopened packs of cigarettes right on the table, and they could've easily asked a waiter to bring some more. There was no need for a personal run.

But Archer's interruption did cool things down a bit.

Martin got up and followed Archer out to the terrace next to the restroom. Archer handed him a cigarette, "What's got you poking your nose into Maxwell's marital issues?"

Although he didn't know the details, Archer could guess from their exchange what was up.

Martin replied in an even tone, "I'm not interfering. I just lent my apartment to Rosemary for a while."

Archer looked at him knowingly, "So you let Maxwell play his games? Even if you didn't step in, he wouldn't really leave Rosemary out to sleep on the streets."

Martin took a drag; the smoke blurred his features and the emotions in his eyes.

He didn't avert his gaze from Archer's, but he didn't respond either.

"You know Maxwell is touchy about your relationship with Rosemary. If you keep meddling in their business, you might not even stay brothers."

Archer left it at that, "Maxwell's been in a foul mood lately. Don't take it to heart."

After dealing with the fragments of a vase, Rosemary felt a bit peckish and decided to head downstairs for some late-night grub.

Cooking wasn't allowed in the apartment, which was a bit inconvenient.

As she was leaving, she texted Martin. He had asked her to check out something Grandpa Nelson collected, and he hadn't mentioned it since. She wasn't sure if he had forgotten about it, so she decided to ask.

The moment she opened the door, a figure blocked her path.

Rosemary, who had been typing with head down, immediately backed up a few steps and reached for the alarm on the wall as the shadow approached. The person followed her inside, slamming the door shut behind them.

Before she could even look up, her phone was snatched away!

Then, a familiar voice came from above her, "Trying to text someone to come save you?"

Rosemary let out an internal sigh of relief and rolled her eyes at the intruder, "Maxwell, are you sick in the head?"

Ambushing her in the dead of night, she thought he was a mugger and nearly reached for a knife!

Starving and eager to ditch him for some food, she reached for her phone he had snatched away. Just as her fingertips brushed the case, he flicked his wrist, and the phone smashed against the door.

Maxwell gripped her hand and leaned in close; the scent of alcohol was strong on him; with his eyes red-rimmed from drinking, he said, "So dependent on Martin? He's the first one you think of when you're in danger?"

Before Rosemary could respond, his fiery kiss descended, which overwhelmed her and left her no room for breath. He was no gentleman to begin with, and now his eyes were filled with nothing but a fierce desire to conquer and possess.

Maxwell's grip was strong, pinning her shoulders against the wall. Rosemary struggled with all her might but couldn't break free, so she was forced to endure his plundering kiss.

She parted her lips to bite him, but before she could, Maxwell, with remarkable foresight, let her go.

He looked at her face, seething with anger, and sneered, "Why do you think I could find this place?"

Rosemary's eyes widened slightly, and she foresaw what he was going to say that Martin had told him the location.

But she didn't hesitate to assert, "Martin wouldn't have told you."

Rosemary trusted Martin's character; as soon as she finished speaking, Maxwell's gaze turned icier than ever.

Silence engulfed the room.

After a moment, he cracked a smile, and his tone was as casual as if making small talk, but Rosemary felt like her shoulders were about to be crushed by his pressure.

His eyes were steely as he said, "You really trust him to the core, don't you?"

Then his lips descended once more, and his breath on her face grew heavier: "It seems you still haven't realized who you really are."

"Click."

That's when Rosemary heard the sound of a belt buckle being undone.