Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Meanwhile, Brielle was sprawled out in the hotel room from the previous night, her eyes glued to her phone as she flipped it over in her hands restlessly. She hadn’t reached out to Max all day, and he hadn’t made any moves either. He was probably upset, especially after overhearing her conversation in the elevator and then witnessing Spencer’s clingy display. This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

Biting her lip in frustration, Brielle racked her brain for a plausible excuse and finally came up with something passable. [Mr. Dorsey, the soup Wesley brought over was delicious, thank you.]

After sending the message, she waited for a while, eager to see how he would respond, but her phone remained silent.

Brielle had never been good at this kind of thing. Seeing no reaction, she tossed the phone aside. She laughed at herself, wondering why she even thought Max would be upset. Was it because of Spencer? Was it because of what she said?

She didn’t think she had that kind of charm. If that was the case, there was no need to go out of her way to explain.

On Max’s end, he was holding a cup of coffee, gazing out the window. The suburban view was quite nice, and the coffee beans specially prepared by the Hatfield family were rich and

aromatic.

He had taken off his suit jacket, leaving him in his white dress shirt with the top three buttons undone, casually revealing his collarbone.

His tall frame leaned against the window, the shirt and pants accentuating his stature, his long lashes casting a shadow across his chiseled features.

Brielle had called Patrick but not him. Did she think the morning’s incident didn’t need

clarification?

He was feeling irritated because of her, and now he had to repay a favor to the Hatfield family on her behalf? The thought just added to his frustration.

Max felt a heat building within him, and not even the coffee could chase away the rising. temperature in his body.

There was a knock on the door, persistent and quick. He put his phone down, rubbed his temples, and walked over to the door to open it.

Standing outside was a woman, dressed to impress and wrapped in a flowing gown, her innocent eyes looking up at him.

“Max,” Lillian drawled, her fingers delicately undoing the belt at her waist. “I’ve admired you for a long time, and I wanted to offer myself to you. I hope you won’t reject me.”

As the gown fell to the floor, her other hand hidden behind her back, her cheeks flushed with a feigned shyness.

14:18

Max didn’t give her a second glance, his expression as cold as ice, unimpressed by the tacky. seduction. He couldn’t help but wonder how Brielle could have been deceived by such a woman for years.

A pair of arms wrapped around his waist. “Max, I know you’re suffering. I can help you,” she whispered, her breath sweet.

Lillian was determined to hook him, her eyes filled with resolve and even forcing her way into

the room.

Outside, someone had locked the door with a heavy padlock, making it impossible for those inside to open it. The heat within Max intensified as he sensed someone lunging at him, and without hesitation, he pushed her away. “You’ve got some nerve,” he said coldly.

Lillian was shocked. He hadn’t succumbed?

She had used a hefty dose. By all accounts, he should have lost his senses by now and been all over her. What was happening?

Panic set in, but she quickly composed herself. There was no turning back now.

“Max, take me, please. I’ll make you feel good,” she pleaded, kneeling before him, her gaze almost obsessive as she inched closer.

Max’s forehead was beaded with sweat, his eyes half–closed.

Lillian mistook his silence for consent, but before she could rejoice, she felt the cold, dark barrel of a gun against her forehead. The coolness in his eyes was like the scythe of the Grim Reaper. Lillian’s face turned ghostly pale, her body trembling uncontrollably. How had it come to this? How much longer could he hold on? She cowered on the floor, not daring to move.

Max seemed to be holding on by a thread, his fingertips lightly grazing the trigger. At the sound of the trigger’s crisp click, Lillian nearly burst into tears. “Max, please don’t be angry. I just wanted to make you feel good. I didn’t mean anything else.”

Max’s fingertips caressed the trigger, and he leaned back slightly. The action made his Adam’s apple protrude, his beautiful eyes reflecting the overhead lights like a,desolate sea at night.

Lillian swallowed hard, thinking he was on the brink of giving in, and quickly reached out to grasp his fingers.