Master of his heart

Chapter 152

After finishing her thought, she glanced over at Max, who seemed entirely unfazed by all the petty scheming, as if such trivial plots were beneath him.

Today, he was without his usual tie, his shirt undone at the top two buttons, revealing a rare glimpse of casualness,

The doorbell rang again, and Brielle went to answer it, discovering Patrick on the doorstep. Patrick was holding a large bag, which appeared to be packed with groceries, including some exotic fruits that had to be flown in from overseas.

“Ms. Brielle,” Patrick said respectfully, gesturing for the chef to carry the bags into the kitchen,

“Ms. Brielle, many of these items have been prepped at the hotel’s kitchen. I’ve brought the head chef over to prepare lunch for you and Mr. Dorsey,”

Brielle looked toward the chel, now bustling in the kitchen with his toque blanche standing tall. This, she mused, must be the lifestyle of the wealthy.

She chuckled to herself, thanking him and reaching for the fruit to wash it. Patrick, however, stepped back, looking somewhat panic–stricken. “Please, allow me, Ms. Brielle. You should sit.”

Max’s side for years, had never seen him dash out in the middle of the night for a woman. Before, only his work commanded such urgency from him. However, that rule had now been shattered, whether he was aware of it or not. Indeed,

at the dining table, feeling as if the apartment had never shone so

folded, eyebrow raised in Max’s direction. Max maintained his usual cool demeanor. Unable to resist, Aubree edged closer, sliding a stack of unreviewed documents toward him, “Mr. Dorsey, did you enjoy your sleepover last night?” Max lifted his gaze briefly, “So?”

are you going

to intervene, but saw Max

rational standpoint, his presence wouldn’t change much. After all, there was nothing between them. But if Brielle wanted it, he couldn’t

“The Haywoods won’t let Bri off easy, and neither will the Spencer. There is Sophia from the Rowlands, and Emily, who’s

this, Brielle’s situation seemed precarious.

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Chapte

Hatfields won’t trouble Ms. Brielle. Emily was flown out of the country last night, unlikely to return. The president has spoken with the Hatfields. They won’t bother

fruit platter on the coffee table. “Ms. Brielle, Miss Aubree, please enjoy the

artfully carved by the chef, making it instantly more. appealing. However, both