Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love novel Chapter 150

The bodyguard snapped to attention first, quickly spinning around to check out the scenic tree in the garden, and lo and behold, Ms. Temple was in her birthday suit!

"Mrs. Templeton, there's gotta be some kind of mix-up here. When I left, Mr. Templeton was so plastered he was out like a light."

Rosemary's eyes darkened as she looked down, fumbling for her phone in her bag with shaky hands, missing the grip over and over.

The bodyguard was freaking out on the inside, like ants on a hot pan, while sneaking peeks at Rosemary's reaction from the corner of his eye.

But who would've thought? Instead of leaving, Rosemary walked right in with her phone.

The bodyguard was taken aback. This wasn't the scene he had pictured in his head. "Mrs. Templeton, what's going on here...?"

Rosemary flicked on the living room lights, and the blinding flood of light exposed the two disheveled figures on the couch, as she started snapping pictures with her phone.

Victoria's hand was on Maxwell's shirt buttons – she was wearing a black off-the-shoulder sweater underneath, which was hidden by the couch back. That's why Rosemary thought she was undressed when she first glanced in from the doorway.

"Maxwell just spilled some water on himself, and it's chilly out. Sleeping in wet clothes can lead to a cold," she explained, but didn't budge an inch. Instead, she shot Rosemary a mocking smile, "Mrs. Templeton shouldn't mind, right? Besides, you've got your mind on Martin now, no time to worry about anything else."

Maxwell was totally sloshed, and didn't even wake up with all the commotion.

Victoria was about to unbutton his shirt when her wrist was suddenly gripped tight—

It was Maxwell.

Frowning, he growled in a raspy voice, loaded with warning, "Beat it, don't touch me."

"Maxwell," Victoria said softly, "It's me, Victoria."

But his grip didn't ease up; he even seemed like he wanted to fling her away, even though he was clearly knocked out.

"Maxwell..."

Her voice rose a notch, the sharp pain in her wrist forcing her to yank her hand back, trying to break free from his clamp.

Maxwell finally woke up, slowly opening his eyes, drunk as a lord, clearly not all there.

Didn't feel like moving, didn't feel like talking.

His groggy gaze drifted over to Rosemary, indifferent, "What are you doing here?"

He was still in the hospital shirt and suit pants, now crumpled against his body, making him look down-and-out and in a sorry state. A few shirt buttons were undone, revealing a chest marred with overlapping new and old bruises.

Rosemary's gaze on her phone screen slowly thickened into something tangible, as if only now she was coming back to reality from the scene before her: "You'll have to ask your bodyguard why he dragged me here in the dead of night."

Maxwell glanced at the bodyguard, who immediately stood at attention under his gaze, "It was Archer's orders, afraid you'd get into trouble drunk and unattended."

If he had known Ms. Temple would show up, he sure as heck wouldn't have bolted so fast.

"Maxwell," Victoria chimed in, not liking that the moment he opened his eyes, all his attention was on Rosemary, ignoring the one who had been taking care of him all along.