Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

Maxwell glared at Rosemary's icy mug, utterly pissed off. She sure had some nerve threatening him like that. But before he could even say a peep, she turned on her heels and strutted off.

At the self-checkout, Rosemary bent over to pick stuff out of the cart and place it on the counter, one by one. Maxwell stood by with his nose in the air, acting all high and mighty, not lifting a finger to help.

Rosemary couldn't care less about him. Scanning items wasn't exactly backbreaking work. She only shot him a glance when paying, and that was when she caught him eyeing the condoms on the shelf next to them.

She spat out one word with a frosty voice, "Creep."

Maxwell wasn't thinking anything dirty, not at that moment anyway. His gaze just happened to wander there.

"Creep?" He looked at her with a smirk that was half laugh, half sneer, "If getting curious about those things makes someone a creep, then who's the bigger creep here? I just took a glance, but someone actually bought a whole bunch and stocked up at home."

His words had heads turning their way from all around the checkout lines. Rosemary's face flushed crimson in an instant. She was more than just embarrassed; she was livid.

It was a moment from her past that she wished she could erase, a constant reminder of how cheap she felt when she delivered the goods only to be told to have some self-respect!

Because of this, Rosemary sat herself in the backseat on the ride home, and the moment the car stopped, she grabbed the groceries and bee-lined it to the kitchen.

Cooking was a piece of cake for her, but with her mood soured, the flavors were bound to be half- assed.

Maxwell, seeing only one set of utensils on the table, raised an eyebrow and asked, "You're not eating?"

Rosemary's reply dripped with sarcasm, "After feasting your eyes, what's left to eat?"

Instead of getting mad like she expected, Maxwell pulled out a chair and sat down, ordering, "Go get another set of utensils."

Rosemary frowned, totally annoyed, "I'm not hungry. Just eat up and let's get down to brass tacks."

"You expect me to believe you didn't poison the food?"

Poisoning him would be such a hassle. She'd rather twist his head off right now with her bare hands! All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

In the end, Rosemary stormed into the kitchen and got the utensils, taste-testing each dish in front of him, "Your Majesty, are you satisfied now? Can you eat in peace?"

Maxwell finally started eating, calm and collected. Annoying as he was, the guy had got grace, almost like he was acting in a movie.

Rosemary really wasn't hungry before, but once the food hit her stomach, she realized she was actually starving and ended up eating a bit.

Maybe the food didn't taste great because Maxwell stopped eating after a few bites. Seeing that, Rosemary put down her utensils too.

"What's it gonna take for you to cut Yolanda some slack?"

Maxwell shot her a glance but asked something else, "You really want a divorce that bad?"

Rosemary didn't see that coming, but she didn't hesitate about divorce, "Yeah."

"Got the money together?" Maxwell's sarcasm followed, "Or planning to drag this out until you catch me cheating so you can take me to the cleaners?"

Rosemary frowned, "Who needs evidence of you cheating? You took Victoria to the hospital, drove her home late at night, and you were at her hotel just the other day. The whole world knows you're an item."

"That's just the media spouting nonsense. Rosemary, you've been the lady of the house for three years. Think before you speak, and don't play the fool."

"Oh, what? You need an intimate photo of you two spread out to admit it?"

The words “intimate photo” darkened Maxwell's mood instantly, and he demanded coldly, "Did you set that up?”

Rosemary was clueless about what he meant, but this wasn't the time to wonder. Yolanda's issue was pressing!

"I'm talking about Yolanda. Stick to the subject."

But Maxwell drilled her with his stare, word by word, "I'm asking you, did you set that up? Following me and Victoria to gather evidence of my affair for a divorce case?"

Rosemary was taken aback, and then it clicked. She answered straight up, "I never had anyone follow you, if you'd believe that."

As she spoke, she caught on to something else he said. Divorce case, She'd like to file one, but who would dare take it?

"But if I'd known there were folks who did that kind of work, I might have actually gone for it."

Hearing her say that, the anger that had been eating at Maxwell these past days vanished in a flash. He knew it wasn't her.

He reached out to cup Rosemary's chin, leaning in close, bridging the gap between them across the dining table. With that lean, his lips nearly brushed her nose.

Maxwell chuckled lowly, "Why bother with all that? If you want money, just sweet-talk me, and all my assets could be yours."

His breath was warm and moist across her face. Rosemary tilted her head away, puzzled by his sudden mood swing.

"Maxwell, did Victoria dump you again, so you're here looking for a thrill?"

Three years ago, that night at the hotel, the thing happened the next day after Victoria broke up with Maxwell. But he was sober enough to recognize her, and yet he still.

Bottom line, the guy was scum!

On one hand, he professed deep love, and on the other, he couldn't wait three years. The moment Victoria left the country, he took advantage of her.

Maxwell scoffed, "Looking for a thrill? Fair enough, those condoms you bought are about to expire. Why not use them all up tonight for a thrill?"

Rosemary's head buzzed. She felt Maxwell's lips getting closer, and she couldn't tell if he was joking or serious. She instinctively stepped back.

But suddenly, he circled the table, scooped her up in his arms, and said, "Why run? Haven't you been wanting this for the past three years?"

Rosemary was in total shock, her limbs flailing in protest, but she couldn't break free from his embrace. She was truly panicking.

Struggling to keep her composure, Rosemary looked at the man so close to her and with a mocking curve on her lips, she taunted, "Maxwell, you're not getting cold feet about divorcing me, are you?"