The expression on Maxwell Peary's face was like a painter's palette, displaying a myriad of emotions. He stood frozen, his tightly clenched fists betraying his current mood. Slowly, he released Nia Mitchell's hand and was the first to head downstairs.
Nia hurried after him, knowing she shouldn't have asked such a question at this time. But she had not only asked it, she had also greatly upset the CEO.
She was doomed!
Nia quickly ran to the sofa, slipped off her slippers, and climbed on, sitting cross-legged.
"Uncle?" she called out tentatively, reaching out with a small hand to poke his side. The firm feel of his muscles was surprisingly good, and she grinned at Maxwell Peary.
"Uncle, I wasn't asking because I want to eat them. I was really just curious."
If the CEO had thrown his snacks away, she needed to be mentally prepared. If he hadn't...
