Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Chapter 680

Patrick’s heart soured inexplicably as he thought about the possibility of a spat between the CEO and Ms. Brielle. The last thing he wanted was for them to be at odds.

Even in sleep, Max’s brow was furrowed as if worries plagued his dreams.

Patrick was supposed to drive to

to Dorsey International, given that Max was a workaholic and would most likely want to head to the office at this hour. But seeing the dark circles under Max’s eyes, Patrick took the liberty of steering the car towards Premier Palace instead.

Max was tall, and even though the car was spacious, it still seemed a snug fit for him as he dozed off.

“Sir, you should hit the hay on a proper bed,” Patrick suggested.

Max slowly opened his eyes to the sight of Premier Palace, said nothing, and got out of the car.

Wesley approached, ready to mention Ms. Brielle’s visit the previous evening. But noticing the chill surrounding Max and catching warning shake of the head from Patrick behind him, he promptly shut his mouth, sensing trouble.

took a shower, and then lay down to rest. It was probably the first time since taking

night before. Though exhausted, Max’s sleep

the bathroom, showering in cold water for an hour. It was winter, and the cold water

didn’t leave the room but instead pondered

and a relentless work schedule, two hours under cold water didn’t seem to induce sickness. His already pale complexion looked even worse. His aura was so icy it seemed it could

had arrived at the top floor of Dorsey International. Stepping out of the elevator, she encountered Annie carrying a stack of papers. Annie did

bit of courage, especially after the office had

Max.

As she entered the top floor, her colleagues cast curious glances. Those who

was about to enter Max’s office when she

seeing Brielle, surprise flickered through Annie’s eyes. “Are you here for Mr. Dorsey? He’s taking a nap and asked

This prompted Brielle to say, his drawers.” Even Patrick

like others

and he allowed me to. That’s why I’m doing it.”

discomfort, as anyone might when speaking to someone who looked so much like themselves. Although strictly speaking, Annie’s face only bore a fifty percent resemblance