Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Chapter 12

But by 10 p.m., Brielle hadn’t sent a message. Spencer felt uneasy, as if something was slipping out of control. Yet, thinking of the Haywoods’ attitude towards him, which was like they’d gladly gift-wrap Brielle and deliver her to his bed, a flicker of relief crossed his eyes. After all, Brielle would have to give in eventually.

Brielle packed her belongings, printed her resignation letter, and left it on her desk. Then, with a box in her arms, she descended to the lobby.

No sooner had she steadied herself than a blinding light shone on her. She raised her hand to shield her eyes and turned to see a familiar license plate.

Her first thought was whether this man wanted her again. After all, there was hardly any other reason he would seek her out.

The car slowly approached and came to a halt The door opened. Brielle, still clutching the box, bent down to peer inside and, sure enough, saw the man in a suit, looking a

ras dazzling as a painting but just too cold.

“Uncle Max,” she called out without any intention of joining him. She really wasn’t in the mood tonight.

Max’s fingertips lightly played with the rosary on his wrist, his demeanor indifferent. After a long pause, he softly commanded, “Get in.”

“If I do, with Uncle Max’s stamina, I’m sure I won’t be able to leave.” She held the box earnestly.

Brielle intended to create a promiscuous persona around Max. It’d be better to keep their entanglements strictly to the bedroom. Otherwise, she feared she might one day fall too deep.

One Spencer was already draining enough, and Max clearly played in a different league.

it was her first time when they slept together. He simply didn’t care. Adults all knew the rules; it was unreasonable

slight smirk tugging at his lips because of her words. His gaze dropped to the box in her arms. His cool fingertips clasped her wrist and

The box she held was too conspicuous

no point in feigning modesty now. “Yeah, I’ve been cast

might as well continue setting a timebomb here with Max. She hoped when the bomb exploded, Spencer would be able

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Chapter 12

Max, Dorsey International has so many ventures-can you handle them

fingers, sensing

receive the approval contract overseas because they split the total investment into smaller amounts, each just under the threshold that would require your personal

affairs meant she knew all

the directors’ petty theft was just a drop in the bucket

a set of vintage vases. Every chair is a peach wood piece from the French Empire era, beside Empire-style display cabinets adorned with British enamel tableware. The floors covered with $50,000 Persian carpets. For a research building, why the need for such

are

watched her quietly for a while before looking up and instructing someone in front, “Investigate this.” The

exposed, Spencer would be in for it. Her gloominess at losing her job

Spencer calls it the ‘Friday Night Decadence Club.’ You

for her apology, right? Ha. She’d use Max to

fingertips traced her waist before addressing Patrick,

nodded respectfully and made several phone calls to arrange

small currents burrowing through her pores. “What reward would you like?” His voice, always cool and indifferent, somehow didn’t seem

“A reward?”