Damn it! Maxwell Peary's brows knitted together tightly, the veins near his temples throbbing.
This little Rabina Mitchell was so stubborn.
"Nia Mitchell, stand your ground!"
Watching her march forward unceasingly, her stride quickening.
Maxwell Peary jogged a few steps to catch up with her and, without a word, scooped her up around the waist.
"Ah! What are you doing!!"
A princess-carry! Oh my gosh.
Nia Mitchell's face turned beet red. Her little feet kicked in the air as she hoped the CEO would put her down.
"If you won't let me carry you on my back, then I'll have to carry you like this."
His voice was teasingly light, tinged with playful amusement.
Nia Mitchell pouted, tilting her head back to look at the CEO. From this angle, her view was mostly filled by his resolute profile and that chiseled jawline she couldn't help but want to take a bite out of.
"Uncle, I can walk by myself."
She lowered her voice, knowing her protests were useless.
