Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love novel Chapter 62

“Martin, this is a matter between my wife and me.”

Maxwell’s tone was tense, the message crystal clear—it was not suitable for an outsider like him to intervene.

The situation turned eerily tense, with an almost imperceptible scent of gunpowder in the air, mingling with the faint smell of blood, and Mr. Ferber’s intermittent cries of pain. It felt like things could explode at any second.

Yet Martin seemed unconcerned, casually saying, “Maxwell, our emotions tonight aren't conducive to further discussion. Handle your stuff here first, I’ll take Rosemary home.”

His gaze swept down the hallway, and Maxwell caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye—many doors were open all over, the earlier disturbance had alarmed other guests, who were now peeking from behind their doors, some even sneakily filming with their phones.

Maxwell, with a cold face, turned his gaze back to Rosemary. She had rushed out in such a hurry that she was only wearing her pajamas, conservative but still outlining her alluring curves.

He took off his jacket and draped it over Rosemary without a word.

Rosemary frowned, about to refuse, but then she heard the man’s voice, icy to extreme, “Do want to parade around like this?”

She had been too caught up in the tension earlier to consider anything else. Now, hearing Maxwell’s words, she immediately reacted, her instinct making her duck behind Martin.

Maxwell’s outstretched hand felt empty, his cool gaze fixed on her.

But Rosemary didn’t care whether he was angry or not, “Keep your clothes for Victoria. There should be spare clothes in Martin’s car.”

Maxwell’s voice grew heavier, “Martin has a penchant for cleanliness. He wouldn’t randomly lend his clothes to others.”

Martin raised an eyebrow, “I…”

Before he could profess “don’t have a penchant for cleanliness,” he met Maxwell’s stern look.

Though no words were exchanged, the message was clear.

Martin pressed his lips together, amused inwardly– was his buddy treating him as a love rival?

Not wanting Martin to misunderstand, he went along with it, “Yeah, I’m a clean freak, so just wear it, Rosemary. It’s your stuff, after all. Even if you don't want it, don’t let it benefit others.”

Who knew Martin, the ostensibly refined gentleman, could make such a veiled insult? But she had to admit, his words lightened her mood, and she stopped fussing about the clothes.

Maxwell buttoned up the jacket for her and murmured to Rosemary, “Call me when you get home.”

Rosemary didn’t respond.

In the elevator, the tension finally eased from her, fatigue washing over her in waves. She slumped against the wall and said to Martin, “t would be too much trouble for you to run back and forth. How about lending me your car?”

Worried he might be concerned – after all, people usually don't lend their cars, she added, “I’m a very safe driver. I haven’t had an accident or been fined since I got my license.”

Martin chuckled, “What’s next, swear an oath to heaven?”

Rosemary thought, she had never realized Martin could be funny.

“I promised Maxwell I’d get you home safe. If I now give you the car and let you drive back alone, if nothing happens, great, but if there’s an accident, considering how he kicked Mr. Ferber earlier, I bet I’d end up doing rounds in the ICU.”

Rosemary glanced at him, not sure why he’d think that. Maxwell’s kick wasn’t for her; it was because Mr. Ferber had besmirched Victoria’s reputation.