Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Chapter 454

While juggling the honest affections of one man, she reveled under the touch of another, all the while spouting lies.

Any fondness Brielle had for Sydney vanished in an instant. How could someone so devoid of moral fiber be anything but complex?

The irony wasn’t lost on Brielle; she had misjudged Sydney.

But Adrian, ever trusting of Sydney, reminded her. “You keep at your overtime. It’s almost midnight, and my birthday’s ending. Just wish me a happy one, will you?”

Sydney was lost in the moment, and cut the call short. Her patience had worn thin as her arms found their way around Spencer’s neck.

On the other end, Adrian felt a sting of rejection but then remembered he wasn’t alone–Sydney’s workmate was there–and a blush crept up his cheeks. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Adrian was honest, sensible, and easy on the eyes.

Brielle pursed her lips, not revealing she was Sydney’s boss, nor did she expose the lie. Instead, she offered, “Wanna head down together?”

Adrian was relieved to be acknowledged, and beamed with gratitude. “Sure, thanks.”

As they shared the elevator ride, Brielle couldn’t shake her doubts and had to ask. “Have you and Sydney been a thing for long?”

come over to play, claiming she’d marry me. My folks adored her and funded her education, so we’ve been classmates since grade school. It’s been nearly twenty

when he spoke of

modest attire, much like her own.

you two tied

of sorrow crossed Adrian’s face. “I’m saving for a house. My salary isn’t much. It’ll take

not ask Sydney to cut back?

on her. I meet her every need, and she’s sensible. We’ll marry

felt a pang of sadness, maybe anger, thinking of the ten years she spent being deceived by Spencer. Yet here was a man still in the

11-50

Chapter 454

wished him well as they reached the

was the first to wish

sighed, watching his retreating

had arrived at the sanatorium, post–chat with the doctor, standing aside, lost in

he didn’t turn until Alivia’s voice reached him.

this hour?”

with a tray in hand, the epitome of

weariness. “Alivia,