With an earth-shattering sound, the expensive luxury car drifted sharply as Maxwell Peary abruptly wrenched the steering wheel. Nia Mitchell screamed in fear, instantly steadying herself, terrified of being thrown out. The piercing sound of brakes tore through the night. Maxwell Peary reached out his right hand to grab Nia Mitchell, who was lurching forward from inertia. "Ah! Why did you suddenly stop the car!" Nia Mitchell, still shaken, yelled and angrily slapped Maxwell Peary’s arm several times, her face pale from the shock. "Can’t you drive properly?" Nia Mitchell yelled. She had already been scared enough outside the Royal Dynasty Hotel, and now he had frightened her again. A flicker of anger crossed Maxwell Peary’s eyes. He suddenly reached out, forcefully tilting up her delicate little chin, and lowered his head to claim her rosy lips. He was somewhat rough as he tried to pry open her tightly clenched teeth. Nia Mitchell was shocked. His lips carried his dominant scent. Those black eyes, like stagnant pools of dead water, made her shiver involuntarily. Startled, she instinctively tried to break free, but suddenly felt a sharp pain on her lower lip. Nia Mitchell cried out in pain, striking Maxwell Peary’s chest. "What are you doing?" Nia Mitchell pushed Maxwell Peary away, staring at him angrily. "What were you staring at?" Instead of answering her question, Maxwell Peary asked one of his own. Nia Mitchell’s mouth twitched. Had she been so mesmerized just now? She’d been staring at his profile, completely lost in thought. The point was, she’d also seen something she shouldn’t have. Alright, it wasn’t her fault, was it? It was clearly his fault. He... he... cough. "What did you mean by what you said at the banquet earlier?" Did she want to avoid him that badly? He was unwilling to make their relationship public because he wanted to protect her. But her? What was her objective? "I know I was wrong. But you clearly said you wouldn’t attend this birthday banquet, yet you still came." At the birthday banquet just now, rumors were flying. Everyone was saying that Phoebe Walker and Maxwell Peary might get together, that they were a perfect match. "Are you blaming me?" Maxwell Peary sat up straight, looking at her serious little face. He found it surprisingly difficult to adjust to this Nia Mitchell, who seemed to have matured overnight. Hmm... she’d become quite confrontational. Nia Mitchell bit her lip. Was she blaming him? Probably not. Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅•𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾•𝗇𝖾𝗍 "Nia Mitchell, I have a question for you." Suddenly, Maxwell Peary turned serious. The indulgent look in his eyes vanished, replaced by an inscrutably deep gaze. His entire being seemed to instantly emanate an icy aura, swiftly enveloping the car. For a fleeting moment, it felt as if they were back in the Police Station where they first met—so distant and unfamiliar. Nia Mitchell also sensed the gravity of the impending question. She bit her lip, her wide, sparkling eyes fixed on Maxwell Peary. Meeting her gaze, he suddenly found it difficult to ask his question. Time seemed to freeze. Nia Mitchell waited, but Maxwell Peary’s question didn’t come, making her heart grow even more uneasy. Maxwell Peary sighed and turned his head, avoiding her innocent gaze to look straight ahead. Through the car window, the streetlights cast a hazy yellow glow. On the streets below, countless people of all kinds were going about their lives. "Nia Mitchell, let’s go home." He didn’t ask the question. After uttering those words with a sigh, the Rolls-Royce sped away under his control.