Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love novel Chapter 32

Maxwell's lips pressed into a thin line, veins popping on his forehead as he almost snarled her name, "Rosemary!"

Rosemary froze, meeting his fierce gaze with a lurch in her heart.

"Chill out, why the aggression?"

He gritted his teeth, "You're asking for it."

No one spoke for the rest of the journey, the tension in the car so thick it could be cut with a knife, scaring Jason to the point he didn't dare to press the gas pedal too hard.

Rosemary leaned against the door, staring blankly at the night scenery whizzing by. The car finally stopped in the garden of Meadowlark Retreat, and Rosemary, looking at the familiar off-white villa in front of her, lethargically pushed the car door open and stepped out.

This was her and Maxwell's marital home, but also a cage that had imprisoned her for three years. She had tried and hoped to be a loving couple with him, but now, she was so disheartened that she just wanted a divorce.

Taxis were a no-show in this ritzy part of town, she had been drinking and couldn’t drive, and Jason wouldn't take orders from her to drive her back.

After weighing her options, it seemed like crashing here was the only one for tonight. At least later on, Maxwell would probably go see Victoria, and she could pretend she was just staying at a hotel.

Rosemary staggered inside, and as she bent over to change shoes, footsteps approached from behind.

Maxwell stood there, watching the way her dress clung to her curves in that pose, sketching out a different kind of sex appeal.

Today she wore an A-line skirt that revealed slender, eye-catching legs. Maxwell felt a surge of heat in his chest, a fire that had been smoldering since her words in the car.

Over the years, he'd had no shortage of women throwing themselves at him, many more beautiful and sensual than Rosemary, some even bold enough to strip naked in front of him, but he never felt interested.

The fire now seemed to come more from anger than desire. Even if he didn't like the woman, he couldn't stand the thought of her comparing him to someone else.

He fought to control the rage bubbling inside him, resisting the urge to drag her upstairs forcefully.

Oblivious to the danger, Rosemary finished changing her shoes and half-closed her eyes as she headed to the living room.

She didn't go up to her room, planning to rough it on the couch for the night. She had picked out this sofa herself, wide and comfy. She knew exactly where to find a light blanket on the shelf below and lay down, covering herself.