Master of his heart

Chapter 5

Faith’s tone was icy, her words dripping with disdain as though Brielle was beneath her notice. Brielle knew that if she didn’t take action, the next call would be to the Haywoods, and then her parents would be on the line, lecturing her on her lack of charm and tact.

She was tired of being a puppet on strings. After hanging up, she texted Faith the address of the suburban mansion, Spencer’s little love nest. If Faith cared to dig, she would discover her son’s mistress.

Brielle also wondered if Faith already knew about Spencer and Lillian’s affair, which would explain her increasingly imperious attitude. Not only did Faith expect her to play the dutiful daughter-in-law within the Dorsey clan, but she also expected her to handle Spencer’s business affairs. Talk about making the most of her assets.

When Brielle arrived at Dorsey Tower and pushed open the office door, she found the entire floor eerily silent.

Everyone sat up straight, casting anxious glances toward the elevators. Whispers echoed through the cubicles.

“All the execs got called up for a meeting. Word is Mr. Dorsey’s not staying abroad this time.”

“The Wall Street Journal had a feature on him just the other day-Harvard wunderkind.”

“Looks like a shake-up at Dorsey International.”

left her bed that morning, now presiding over the top floor, and the corner of her mouth

in bed, and just as much so

on her shoulder made her turn. “Why’s the director not here? If he

the only one who knew

her badge,

appeared in Lucinda’s eyes, followed by a deeply hidden disdain. “Isn’t he your fiancé? Really? With your looks, you

ace up her sleeve, but

could randomly throw a

Chapter 5

week. Don’t tell me you got two-timed?” Lucinda’s pity hinted at the harsh reality of marrying into

and organized

the elevator dinged, and Spencer emerged, suave in a grey suit. Hel quickly straightened his

handed him

headed to the private elevator, “You’re coming to the meeting

atmosphere on the top floor was

the cold gaze of the man by the window.

French window. Max sat there, like a tree

silent, the directors rigid with

from the Dorsey family, some even elders to Max. She pressed her lips together in a small

pale-faced, found a seat, regretting last night’s