Chapter 154

Brielle’s nose tingled with an unspoken sorrow. Her heart bore secret scars, teeming with pride and self–esteem in excess. To be humiliated or to ask lavors of others was to her a shame most profound. So, when Max probed her with that question, her cheeks, which shouldn’t have hurt, blazed anew. The wounds Faith and Ryan had inflicted were not just of the flesh.

Max, seeing her silent, reached out and took her chin in his hand, locking eyes with her. His eyelids, thin and imposing, seemed to tighten the air around them when drawn together.

Heat rose in waves across Brielle’s face, and with Patrick standing by, her embarrassment. surged.

Patrick, ever perceptive, rose and feigned a trip to the kitchen to lend a hand, but through the glass door, he watched the pair surreptitiously.

With Patrick gone, Brielle felt a measure of relief wash over her. Her eyes reddened slightly. lending her a pitiable air. Max had no fondness for pity. In a dog–eat–dog world, weakness was an invitation to be trampled.

“What are you crying for?” His voice softened, and he let go of her chin. “Who hit you? Hit them back. If there’s trouble, I’ve got you covered. What are you scared of?”

at another’s hand. Moreover, after last night’s debacle,

was falling short. He had never cared for a delicate

part, never sought help. Used to solitude, she tackled everything alone. This realization sat uncomfortably with Max. He even resolved to go home later and look up how to properly care for a

slate. After a long moment, she looked up at the man still coldly

skin pale, his lashes long, his wristbones sharp as blades. Was such a man truly behind

if I cause a scene at tomorrow

interjected, “If you’re

the files on the Book Group, I can compile a more detailed report for you, or I could even go abroad myself to scout for

speech, she reached for a nearby teacup. “Mr. Dorsey, are

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