With a HUM, Phoebe Walker momentarily lost her hearing. Her mind went blank, unsure how to react.
Maxwell Peary curled his lips slightly. His chiseled profile radiated brilliantly in the sunlight. The curve of his mouth, glowing, was so mesmerizing that even a casual glance would draw one in, unable to pull away.
"Miss? Miss? Miss, you need to come over here quickly!"
Phoebe Walker seemed startled. Only then did she snap back to reality, her forehead now covered in a layer of cold sweat.
"Maxwell…Mr. Peary..."
Phoebe Walker stood there shivering, her gaze moving to Maxwell Peary's face. Even if she were a fool, she would have understood the meaning behind Maxwell Peary's words.
Maxwell Peary sat there quietly, his legs crossed, his hands folded, the top button of his pristine white shirt undone, portraying an air of nonchalance.
But at this moment, Maxwell Peary perfectly embodied the rumors about Young Master Peary that had been circulating.
