Master of his heart

Chapter 87

Brielle pushed herself to her feet, grabbing the cane that rested beside her chair. “Uncle Max, maybe Patrick could take me home?” She wanted to clear her head, to regain control before everything spiraled beyond repair.

Max looked up at her, stood, and pulled her into a comforting embrace. “I’ll take you.” It wasn’t an offer to stay, but a promise to escort her.

A wave of disappointment washed over Brielle, but she mustered a smile nonetheless. “Thanks, Uncle Max. I appreciate it.”

The drive back to her apartment was silent. Once there, Brielle leaned on her cane as she made her way inside. Noticing Max hadn’t left immediately, she fumbled her way to the kitchen and put a kettle on the stove. “I’ve only got black tea here.”

Max settled onto the couch, not offering to help, watching her manage with her cane, as she washed some fruit and brought it out.

Brielle couldn’t deny her irritation. After all, she was the one who was injured. Sitting down, she tossed her cane aside with a huff and caught her breath. “There’s nothing much at home. Hope you don’t mind.”

Max’s gaze softened as he noticed the sweat on the tip of her nose and the flush of her cheeks. He looked away. “Dorsey International has incorporated your two principles into our management system. You should talk to finance about doubling your year–end bonus.”

change in topic caught

realization hit her, she almost choked. All this time she had been stewing in her own frustrations, and there was Max,

him from work.

in annoyance, she also considered that this was exactly what she had

her cane, and re–presented the washed fruit. “I

took hold of her wrist. Brielle’s eyes were drawn to the

“Are you upset?”

for him to notice her mood. Brielle looked down at the fruit in her hands. The act of serving it only

deep breath, she placed the fruit back on the table. “No, Uncle Max. You’re probably used to exotic fruits, flown in from abroad. I didn’t want

I can have Brent arrange for daily deliveries.” His tone was casual, as if puzzled by her preoccupation with

heart sank. Her concerns were far from being about the fruit. Her gaze returned to the rosary beads on his wrist, and she couldn’t help but think

extended her pale finger and toyed with the beads. “Uncle Max,

she panicked, disregarding the pain in her leg. and hastily pressed her