Master of his heart

Chapter 373

Max slumped into his office chair, the weight of the world seemingly on his shoulders.

Patrick tiptoed behind him. Max was probably steaming mad, fuming at Ms. Brielle for not letting Max get out of the car and at himself for actually listening to her.

Max wasn’t the type to laugh much on a good day, and when he was mad, hysteria was the last thing you’d see. His eyes just got darker, his presence more hushed.

But the quieter he got, the more danger seemed to linger in the air.

Patrick instinctively tried to make himself as small as possible.

The office fell into a deathly silence, the air thinning with tension.

Buzz.

Max’s phone vibrated on the desk. He glanced at it, a text from Brielle.

[Can I try to handle this on my own first?]

The anger in his chest popped like a balloon, but discomfort still simmered. He texted back.

[How long?]

I can’t lean on

her from the storms, but also smother her

pillars: submission, where it’s intimate, and autonomy, where it’s not. Only then could she be a whole person, and only

cure with affection was a sure way to worsen the disease.

the truth she had grasped in their

[Don’t get hurt.]

her; he knew

warmed, a softness flashing in her eyes, but she quickly forced herself to set aside personal matters and focus on

and his wife had gone to

orchestrating this from behind the scenes, his real target wasn’t her–it was

her, force Max to act,

to grab a hold of William’s weak

11:02

being cautious for so many years, it was unlikely he’d

leaned back, pinching a pen in her fingers. How would

when you’re short on leverage and need to close the gap with a rival you either bulk up your own

now, William’s chips were Simon and his wife. To dilute that, she had to make those