Nia Mitchell was already upset with him for coming over and sitting at the table next to hers. On top of that, Fiona Sutton was continuously goading her. Meanwhile, wave after wave of beauties were throwing flirtatious glances and trying to strike up conversations with him.
She unceremoniously yelled and slapped her hand on Maxwell Peary’s table like a little rogue.
Maxwell Peary calmly raised his head, delighting in seeing Rabina Mitchell upset.
His uniquely deep voice uttered a single word, the slightly rising intonation causing a tremor in one’s heart.
Witnessing his reaction, it was as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over her, completely dousing the anger that enveloped her.
Oh my God, what in the world am I doing!?
The clueless Rabina Mitchell, feeling like she’d been thrust onto a stage, stood there frozen, shooting a glance at Fiona Sutton from the corner of her eye. Updates are released by 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝⚑𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖⚑𝕟𝕖𝕥
Fiona Sutton pursed her lips, her eyes signaling Nia to go for it. The heartthrob is sitting right there, don’t chicken out now!
"Um..." Nia Mitchell timidly began, a smile plastered all over her face. "Could I have your phone number?"
Don’t expose me, please don’t expose me, her eyes pleaded. Just shoo me away like you did all those other women. Please, just grant me a ’scram’.
Maxwell Peary sat there, an amused look on his face.
When she didn’t receive the response she wanted, Nia Mitchell, her back to everyone, shot Maxwell Peary a furious, threatening glare, conveying: Hurry up! If you don’t do as I say, you’re done for! She was resolved to go home and make a huge scene—crying, throwing tantrums, even threatening to hang herself—if he didn’t comply.
Maxwell Peary raised an eyebrow as the corner of his mouth curled up.
You can’t hide me next time, was the clear message in Maxwell Peary’s gaze.
Nia Mitchell pouted, feigning complete incomprehension, and anxiously repeated her threat. "Can I... have your number... please?"
She weakly repeated her request, breaking the deathly silence.
Seeing that Rabina Mitchell looked ready to bite if he didn’t speak up soon, Maxwell Peary pulled a pen from his pocket.
Grabbing a napkin, he jotted down a long string of his contact information.
"Want my home address? I have more than one; I can give them all to you."
That was the first thing Maxwell Peary said since Nia Mitchell came over.
Everyone was flabbergasted!
Nia Mitchell gritted her teeth, clenching her fists, desperately trying to suppress the urge to pounce on him with her ’dainty claws’.
"I’ll also give you my Office Room number." Maxwell Peary continued to write, his head still lowered.
"Or would you like my butler’s number as well?"
Nia Mitchell slammed her hand on Maxwell Peary’s table again. "Why not give me your wife’s number while you’re at it!"
Damn it all, Uncle Peary must be doing this deliberately!
Maxwell Peary looked up, an astonished expression on his face. "How did you know I’m married? Do you want her number?"
Nia Mitchell’s face completely darkened.
Everyone who heard him was stunned, their faces full of disbelief.
This man is good-looking, but there’s something wrong with his head. What a pity, the onlookers thought.
Nia Mitchell chuckled ironically and returned to her seat.
She shot Fiona Sutton a fierce glare. See? Look what you made me do! This is all your fault!
Fiona Sutton facepalmed. This has absolutely nothing to do with me, she thought. If anyone’s to blame, it’s that man with a screw loose.
Just as Maxwell Peary was about to say something more, his phone rang.
Nia Mitchell curiously turned to look at him, wondering who was calling.
"Mom, I had my reasons for not telling you I got married. Please don’t scare my wife.
"I’ll bring her to see you when I have time.
"And you’re not allowed to go see her secretly.
"Alright. She has a banquet to attend this Saturday, so I’ll bring her to see you on Sunday.
"Fine. If you don’t like her, I’ll divorce her."