Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Chapter 5

Faith’s tone was icy, her words dripping with disdain as though Brielle was beneath her notice. Brielle knew that if she didn’t take action, the next call would be to the Haywoods, and then her parents would be on the line, lecturing her on her lack of charm and tact.

She was tired of being a puppet on strings. After hanging up, she texted Faith the address of the suburban mansion, Spencer’s little love nest. If Faith cared to dig, she would discover her son’s mistress.

Brielle also wondered if Faith already knew about Spencer and Lillian’s affair, which would explain her increasingly imperious attitude. Not only did Faith expect her to play the dutiful daughter-in-law within the Dorsey clan, but she also expected her to handle Spencer’s business affairs. Talk about making the most of her assets.

When Brielle arrived at Dorsey Tower and pushed open the office door, she found the entire floor eerily silent.

Everyone sat up straight, casting anxious glances toward the elevators. Whispers echoed through the cubicles.

“All the execs got called up for a meeting. Word is Mr. Dorsey’s not staying abroad this time.”

“The Wall Street Journal had a feature on him just the other day-Harvard wunderkind.”

“Looks like a shake-up at Dorsey International.”

At her desk, Brielle thought of the man who had left her bed that morning, now presiding over the top floor, and the corner of her mouth twitched with amusement.

He was sexy in bed, and just as much so in a suit and tie.

She had barely sat down when a tap on her shoulder made her turn. “Why’s the director not here? If he skips the exec meeting, our department’s going to be in the crosshairs, right?”

the only one

on her

followed by a deeply hidden disdain. “Isn’t he your fiancé? Really?

up her sleeve, but

Dorsey International, you could randomly throw a brick, and it would hit a high-achieving graduate from an Ivy League school.

Chapter 5

director with another woman at the mall last week. Don’t tell me you got two-timed?” Lucinda’s pity hinted at the harsh reality

sighed and organized her

she finished, the elevator dinged, and Spencer emerged, suave in a grey suit. Hel quickly straightened his tie and smoothed out any wrinkles-clearly, last night’s indulgences had taken

handed him

the

top floor was tense, the senior executives ready for

the cold gaze of the man by the window. He

sat there, like a tree

was silent, the directors rigid with sweaty

some even elders to Max. She pressed her lips together in a small smile, meeting Max’s impassive stare. He really was a different person off

seat, regretting

of personal expenses-luxury cars, villas,

over everyone, finally resting on

regret for arriving late and being the focus of scrutiny. The suburban villa was

the marble table, For

face, but with

“For my fiancée.”