Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Chapter 152

After finishing her thought, she glanced over at Max, who seemed entirely unfazed by all the petty scheming, as if such trivial plots were beneath him.

Today, he was without his usual tie, his shirt undone at the top two buttons, revealing a rare glimpse of casualness,

The doorbell rang again, and Brielle went to answer it, discovering Patrick on the doorstep. Patrick was holding a large bag, which appeared to be packed with groceries, including some exotic fruits that had to be flown in from overseas.

“Ms. Brielle,” Patrick said respectfully, gesturing for the chef to carry the bags into the kitchen,

“Ms. Brielle, many of these items have been prepped at the hotel’s kitchen. I’ve brought the head chef over to prepare lunch for you and Mr. Dorsey,”

Brielle looked toward the chel, now bustling in the kitchen with his toque blanche standing tall. This, she mused, must be the lifestyle of the wealthy.

She chuckled to herself, thanking him and reaching for the fruit to wash it. Patrick, however, stepped back, looking somewhat panic–stricken. “Please, allow me, Ms. Brielle. You should sit.”

Patrick, who had been by Max’s side for years, had never seen him dash out in the middle of the night for a woman. Before, only his work commanded such urgency from him. However, that rule had now been shattered, whether he was aware of it or not. Indeed, Brielle was something special.

Brielle stood at the dining table, feeling as if the apartment had never shone so brightly.

Max’s direction. Max maintained his usual cool demeanor. Unable to resist, Aubree edged closer, sliding a stack of unreviewed documents toward

party, are you

request. Brielle hurried forward to intervene, but saw Max already looking her way. “Do you

nothing between them.

Brielle could speak, Aubree jumped in, “The Haywoods won’t let Bri off easy, and neither will the Spencer. There is Sophia from the Rowlands, and Emily, who’s been in trouble with

this, Brielle’s situation seemed precarious.

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Chapte

with the fruit, chiming in, “The Hatfields won’t trouble Ms. Brielle. Emily was flown out of the country last night, unlikely to return. The president has spoken with the Hatfields. They won’t bother

placed the fruit platter on the coffee table. “Ms. Brielle, Miss Aubree,

the chef, making it instantly more. appealing. However, both women

to Max, inquiring. “Mr. Dorsey spoke with

a flash of annoyance crossing his face. He’d always preferred action over words. Being so blatantly exposed made him

“Hmm.”

expected that a mere word from Max could eliminate a potential enemy. Her

but his occasional tenderness was touching. He was different from