From His Wife to His Uncle's Wife novel Chapter 150

“Want a drink? I just got a new bottle of champagne. What do you think?”

Eleanor knew she should say no. Just the two of them, alone, in his place, with alcohol in the mix. But tonight she was too frustrated to care, and honestly, the idea of anything happening between her and someone like Max seemed completely out of the question.

“Is that really okay?”

Max smiled, a soft laugh in his voice. “Of course.”

He got up, his tall figure slipping out of the room. About ten minutes later, he came back carrying a bucket of ice, two elegant glasses, and a bottle of champagne that probably cost a small fortune.

“Let’s let it breathe for a bit. We can have it in a little while.”

Eleanor sat out on Max’s huge terrace, the cool evening breeze playing with her hair. She gazed up at the night sky, pitch black and empty. It matched her mood perfectly.

“Thanks.”

Max set the glasses down and handed one to her.

Eleanor picked up her glass, gently clinking it against his before taking a sip. “This tastes really nice. So smooth.”

Max didn’t say anything.

They sat in quiet for a while, sipping their drinks. When Max noticed the air growing chilly, he stood up to bring her inside. That’s when he realized there was a new flush on her cheeks, and her eyes had gone soft and unfocused.

She absentmindedly licked her lips. To Max, it was the most tempting thing he had ever seen.

Eleanor noticed him looking. She let out a small hiccup. “Hey, Mr. Clarkson. Tell me, why do some mothers not love their own daughters?”

She didn’t wait for a reply, turning her eyes back to the endless dark sky. “Even as a kid, I knew my mom loved Jared more than me. A lot more.”

“But Jared was sick, and I was the big sister. I was supposed to take care of him. I get that.”

“But why is Jessie more important than me, too?”

Eleanor actually thought about it. “I already gave you a tie, and cufflinks… maybe a shirt?”

Max grinned, then leaned in and scooped her up, carrying her back inside to the living room. He set her gently on the sofa, kneeling in front of her.

“You already gave me a shirt, too.”

She blinked at him, a little lost.

Max’s eyes turned dark and serious, his voice almost a whisper. “When your divorce papers come through… will you marry me?”

Eleanor, who had been floating in a haze of champagne, snapped upright, suddenly wide awake.

She swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mr. Clarkson… what did you just say?”

Max’s gaze was steady, more serious than she had ever seen. “I need a wife. Will you be my Mrs. Clarkson?”