Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love novel Chapter 54

Maxwell seized Rosemary’s hand, shouldered open the door she had unlocked, and strutted into her room under her murderous glare.

Rosemary frowned. “This is my room. What do you mean by this?”

Maxwell flashed a sly grin. “Take a shower and sleep.”

His tone was casual, with a hint of amusement, but she could tell he was baiting her.

Maxwell was doing this on purpose; he wanted to see her driven mad with rage but powerless to act against him.

Rosemary had booked a room with a king-sized bed, with a sofa by the window but no other resting spots.

Maxwell wouldn’t demean himself by sleeping on the sofa, which meant she’d either have to suck it up and share the bed with him or pitifully lie on the sofa, all while watching him lounge comfortably sprawled on the large bed she paid for.

Rosemary pursed her lips, her tone displeased, “Go back to your own room.”

Though this hot spring hotel didn’t have a presidential suite, it boasted VIP hot spring rooms complete with private soaking tubs.

“We’re husband and wife. Wouldn’t sleeping separately give everyone the wrong idea about our relationship?” Maxwell spoke blatant lies. “Mr. and Mrs. Ferber are deeply in love, and our business partners prefer to work with harmonious couples. Don’t forget, you’ve been paid.”

His expression was a vivid billboard of disdain, as if it screamed, “Don’t act all high and mighty when you’re selling yourself!”

Moreover, if Mr. and Mrs. Ferber could be described with the words “deeply in love,” she might as well livestream herself drinking poison. Whether Maxwell was blind or deliberately trying to disgust her, he was desecrating the term.

Rosemary’s eyes and brows smiled with complete fakeness. “Our partners are interested in your company’s and your personal prowess, not in how good our relationship is.”

Maxwell let out a humph and ignored her, heading straight for the bathroom.

Glancing at the closed glass door of the bathroom, Rosemary’s expression darkened slightly. Her eyes swept over the bathrobe hanging in the closet. He seemed to have forgotten to change into the robe.

Just as she was about to ignore the bathrobe, the frosted glass door of the bathroom was opened a crack, and a man’s hand reached out.

“Hand me the bathrobe.”

The arm that reached out was covered in tight, powerful muscle, sleek and freshly washed. Droplets of water, not yet dried, were trickling down his skin.

Even so, Rosemary reminded herself not to be swayed by a pretty face. She held the reins now.

“You think I’ll just hand it over because you say so? Come out and get it yourself.”

She wasn’t about to indulge his princely tantrums. She wasn’t his “personal nanny” anymore!

A chuckle came from the bathroom, “If you want to see me naked, just say it. It’s not like you haven’t seen it before.”

Damn it, who’d want to see him.