Chapter 120

When Brielle entered Max’s office, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted her.

Max didn’t drink instant coffee. There was a small tea room in the office, and just around the corner from the floor–to–ceiling windows was the lounge. At that moment, he sat in a chair, one hand adorned with the rosary resting on the marble tabletop, his eyes calm as the snow settled at the comers.

“Mr. Dorsey.” She called out to him, trying to shake off the sting of anxiety that had settled in her heart.

Max slid a folder across the desk, his hands folded neatly in front of him, all business. “You weren’t telling the truth in the conference room.”

Brielle felt a wave of frustration wash over her. She was struggling not to let his demeanor affect her, but he seemed all too composed. “How do you know I wasn’t telling the truth, Mr. Dorsey? The executives were all in favor of investing in Book, and Ms. Alivia is one of its shareholders.”

“Do you think my investment has anything to do with Alivia?”

“Doesn’t it?”

Before she could salvage the conversation, the office door swung open, and Patrick, along with two other executives, made their way in, seemingly ready for an impromptu meeting. The

way but instead furrowed his brow at Brielle, “Why would you think there’s

executives casting curious glances but without much surprise. They probably would never guess that she and Max were entangled in

feeling once again that singing a solo seemed too pitifut when she was the only one in the act. “If Mr. Dorsey’s interest isn’t because of Ms. Alivia, then this project is indeed up for debate. If

by surprise, and they almost wished

bold, daring to speak to the president in such a manner

a composed exterior, as any high–ranking official

perhaps a hefty year–end bonus would be

1/2

17:19

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