Maxwell Peary said no more. He turned to look at Nia Mitchell, whose face was growing increasingly red, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Why is your face so red?" Maxwell Peary asked knowingly, unable to resist teasing Rabina Mitchell.
Nia Mitchell, looking extremely nervous, quickly offered a remarkably inspired excuse: "Because it's stuffy in the car."
Seeing her earnest reply, Maxwell couldn't help but want to pat her little head. However, he was driving.
Just as the CEO was considering whether to pull over, give her a tender kiss, and shower her with affection, his phone rang.
Yancy Hastings? Maxwell frowned, puzzled. He was always the one to contact Yancy for tasks; Yancy had never proactively sought him out before.
"Hello?"
"Maxwell, where are you?"
"I'm out. What's up?"
"Can you come over? I'm at the old mansion."
Maxwell's eyes narrowed. At the old mansion? It seemed like something important had come up. But what about Nia?
