Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Aubree froze, rooted to the spot. Outside, Andrew had set all the dishes on the dining table, but she was nowhere to be seen. Untying his apron, he made his way to the bathroom door and gave it a gentle knock. "Aubree?" he called softly.

That brought Aubree back to reality, and she quickly splashed some water on her face. Emerging from the bathroom, Andrew noticed her lips were swollen and a vibrant shade of red. His pupils darkened, his throat tightened, and he felt an undeniable urge to kiss her. But Aubree turned away, a small frown creasing her brow. That simple action felt like a dagger to Andrew's heart, piercing the most tender part. He chuckled bitterly to himself, then said, "Let's eat."

Aubree remained where she was, finally speaking after a moment. "Andrew, you really didn't have to cook for me."

Andrew lowered his gaze, his voice light. "Who do you want to cook for you then? That young guy who dropped you off last night? You kissed him at the door for ten minutes. Enjoyed it, did you, Aubree?"

His eyes were red, a wave of worthlessness washing over him. How had he sunk to being jealous of a young man, fearing he'd be left behind?

Aubree stiffened, genuinely unable to recall kissing Matthew. Her scalp prickled at the thought. If Mr. Casey found out, would he think she was taking advantage of his son?

Andrew, hearing no answer from Aubree, felt a weight settle in his chest. But really, what right did he have to ask for explanations from her? Who was he to Aubree? A brother? An old fling? Neither role entitled him to ask for explanations. Aubree changed her clothes and came out, her tone cool. "I'm not hungry. I have work to do."

Andrew looked at the meal he had painstakingly prepared, lost for words. The scene was all too familiar. Aubree had once set a table full of delicious food for him, but he never came home, always using "seeing Tessa" as an excuse. She had reheated the food time and again, and he had ignored her efforts.

Now, it felt like the tables had turned, and he was the one feeling the gut-wrenching pain.

Please, at least eat something before you go. You know how bad your stomach

didn't bring her any satisfaction. If Andrew's pain was at a hundred percent, she felt at least eighty percent

count how many times she'd said it

doorbell rang.

a huge bouquet of roses, his face lighting up

he greeted

a headache coming on. What was he

Andrew by the dining table.

him the previous night-and knowing he was Mr. Casey's son-Aubree didn't dare refuse.

Andrew,

her place. She certainly wasn't going

Andrew's shoes, Andrew's pupils contracted sharply, his hand clenching at his side, itching to punch the kid. But he held back. There was no point in picking a

sure what this young lord was up to, so she went to find a vase. But she wasn't the one who kept the house in order. After

roses from Matthew's arms,

the apron, and Andrew's adept handling of the flowers, and