Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Chapter 19

The door closed slowly, and Brielle remained rooted to the spot, unable to move an inch. She had known Aubree for years but never realized the depth of the relationship between

her and

Andrew. A tumult of emotions churned within her, like waves crashing and winds howling. Didn’t Andrew have a fiancée?

Brielle’s head lowered, her long lashes casting deep shadows across her face, as she stood motionless.

The hallway was quiet and elegant, but the noises coming from the man had been anything but. Perhaps mindful that Max was still waiting in the private dining room, Andrew had finished quickly. His lips, his shirt collar, were smudged with telltale marks of lipstick.

Leaning against the mirror, legs weak, Aubree raised an evebrow with a smile, “Tessa didn’t take good care of you?”

Andrew, with a touch of cruelty, patted her cheek and said coldly, “This kind of affair isn’t something she’s cut out for.”

Aubree didn’t reply, her face ghostly pale.

Andrew left her with a simple command, “Clean yourself up and come out,” before he was

gone.

washroom was silent again, Aubree straightened her attire before exiting, only to spot a shadow

“Bri…”

seen. She knew her actions were no better than those of Lillian, and almost instinctively she tried to justify, “You have to understand, Andrew and Tessa-it’s just a business arrangement. There’s no love. Besides, Tessa

a host of excuses to rationalize this twisted relationship. Brielle’s eyes were calm as she eventually asked, “Do

shivered and found herself at a loss

had just been condemning

wouldn’t understand love. I’ve adored him for

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Chapter

was all because of his engagement

her feelings. If there were a switch to turn off love and retract all emotions, she

“Bri.”

Aubree

dining room door creaked open. Andrew appeared, a smirk of smug satisfaction spread across his face, yet it lacked any trace of genuine emotion. “Little Canary, best forget

noticed Brielle all along but

bear it anymore, Aubree stepped forward, her hand raised for a slap, but her wrist was caught mid-air by Andrew, who wore a mocking smile, his

watched this unfold, frowning, and through the slightly ajar door of the booth,

glass of wine, and casually patted the

wrapped in his jacket, just wanted to return it and leave. She didn’t look at Aubree or Andrew, feeling the entire situation was

her-a warm woody note with a hint of crisp rose-in the dim space. It lingered on her skin, impossible to shake

Max, your jacket.” She slid off the suit jacket and placed it