Maxwell Peary, with a dark expression, reached out to scoop up a certain self-satisfied person standing nearby, securely fixing her in his arms.
"Sit properly. Don't move."
Chiding the woman for her fidgeting, he adjusted her to sit sideways, planting her firmly on his lap.
"Have you forgotten who you are?"
He hugged her, inhaling her fresh scent.
Nia Mitchell flushed, her hand that had been grabbing his collar now controlled by Maxwell Peary.
"I didn't."
She felt wronged. How could she dare to forget?
"Really? Then what do you think you should call me?"
He guided her patiently, his intentions clear enough.
Nia Mitchell stiffened awkwardly. Turning her head slightly, she found his handsome face very close, seeming magnified.
Blushing, she sat on his lap, one of her arms pressed against his chest, and it seemed she could feel his heartbeat.
His hot breath lightly caressed one of her small ears, and she flinched, dodging to the side.
"But I got used to calling you uncle."
