Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love novel Chapter 142

Maxwell was frowning at Rosemary, instantly regretting what he had said. Rather than seeing her dismiss him as nothing, he would prefer to endure her temper and sarcastic remarks.

After bidding Hogan goodbye, Rosemary grabbed her bag and left, acting as if Maxwell didn’t even exist.

Maxwell hurried after her, “Sorry, I didn’t mean what I said just now, it’s not what you think.”

Apologizing was clearly not his forte. His current clumsy demeanor was in stark contrast to the almighty Mr. Templeton that he usually was.

No matter what he said, Rosemary simply ignored him.

He rubbed his forehead with frustration, “Rosemary, how long are you going to keep this up?”

To him, the silent and unresponsive attitude of hers was just a tantrum, showing no intention of solving the problem.

His words were only met with continued silence.

Rosemary had arrived in the bodyguard’s car, but she was now annoyed with everyone and everything related to Maxwell. She decided to hail a cab instead.

Before she could get far, Maxwell grabbed her, “The car’s this way.”

Rosemary yanked her hand back with a look of disgust, “I’ll take a cab.”

“It’s not safe.”

Being with him felt like the biggest danger.

But she didn’t even have the energy to argue with him; all she wanted was to quickly get rid of him.

Without uttering a word, Rosemary broke into a trot towards the street.

Maxwell clenched his jaw, watching her desperate attempt to get away from him. He tried to hold back, but he couldn’t. And in a few strides, he scooped her up despite her struggles.

The sudden lift startled Rosemary. Once she had gathered her senses, she thrashed like a cat with its fur on end, kicking and squirming, “Let go of me.”

She flailed at his chest, her nails leaving a long scratch on Maxwell’s neck. The burning sensation of pain finally ignited a flash of anger in his eyes, “Rosemary, if you don’t stop it, believe it or not, I will throw you out.”

Rosemary’s struggles were frantic, as if possessed by a generator. If he dropped her from this height, she wouldn’t just get a bruise; she’d be in agony for weeks.

“Let go.”

The woman in his arms didn’t care about his threats and struggled even harder. Maxwell leaned in to steady her, but then.

“Bang.”

Accidentally, Rosemary’s forehead hit something hard.

The impact was fierce, her vision went dark for a moment, her head spinning, the hit spot throbbing.

“Ugh.”

She groaned in pain, clutching her sore forehead. At the same time, a warm liquid dripped onto her face.

Before she could figure out what it was, she heard Maxwell’s cold and angry growl overhead, “Rosemary.”

As her senses returned, she smelled the faint smell of blood.

Rosemary looked up, only to find Maxwell’s angular face tense with anger, his eyes full of rage. From his tall and straight nose, two red trails wound their way down, crossing his lips and chin, dripping and dropping.