Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love novel Chapter 124

Rosemary slammed on the brakes, and the florist holding the bouquet noticed her, comically fishing out his phone from his bag and comparing it to a photo.

Once he confirmed it was her car, he made a beeline for her.

At that moment, everyone in the studio was crowding at the door, rubbernecking. They had been there when the guy first showed up with that humongous bouquet; it was hard not to draw attention.

Rosemary's car was now parked outside the studio, and under all those watchful eyes, she couldn't just hightail it out of there without seeming like she was trying too hard to hide something, which wouldn't solve anything. She could only watch as the guy approached.

"Excuse me, are you Mrs. Templeton?"

Even with the windows up, his booming voice was crystal clear. Rosemary was speechless for a moment, then parked properly and got out of the car.

"Mr. Templeton sent you these flowers. Could you please sign for them?"

No sooner had he spoken than the chorus of hoots and hollers from her colleagues began, one after the other. The studio crew was small and the work monotonous, with a broad range of ages, they didn't have the usual office politics, but their gossiping spirit was instantly awakened with the appearance of the bouquet.

They had all seen the trending topics yesterday, even the colleagues who barely followed the news had received the links. They never would have guessed that low-key Rose was actually Mrs. Templeton of the Templeton Group.

The Templeton family, now that was what they called old money! Who would have thought there was such a high roller right in their midst!

Rosemary eyed the delivery slip he was holding out, but didn't take it. The bouquet was so big that it was a struggle for him to hold it with one hand. His hand was shaking, but he persisted, trying to get her to sign.

To avoid her colleagues' prying eyes, Rosemary quickly scribbled her signature and said, "Just toss the flowers, will you?"

Hearing that, the guy unceremoniously plopped the flowers on the hood of her car, dropped a “thank you”, and bolted. No joke, if he threw away a client's order, how could he keep his business running!

Rosemary looked at the flowers on the hood, dodged her colleagues' curious glances, and got back into her car, calling the instigator, "Maxwell, what's your deal?"

Maxwell had just received a message from the florist a second ago, knowing the flowers had been delivered to Rosemary, and now, hearing her irate voice on the other end, he frowned, "Aren't you pleased?"

"Pleased my foot." Rosemary cursed, still having a bone to pick with him about last night's forceful advances, "If you'd just agree to get the divorce over with and stop sticking to me like a bad rash, then I'd be happy."

Silence on the other end.

Rosemary felt like she was punching cotton, her frustration burning with nowhere to go. Sensing her mood, Maxwell coolly replied, "Then I guess you're never going to be happy."

Grinding her teeth, Rosemary spat out each word, "Don't have anyone send flowers to the studio again."

Then she added, "And not to the house, either."

"Aren't women supposed to love this kind of grand gesture?"

"Who the hell told you," Rosemary was livid, and then something clicked, "I said Victoria liked that kind of thing."