Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Max lowered his head towards the laptop, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the keys. Even in the confines of a luxury car, he was still engaged in a video conference with the executives back home.

Noticing Brielle’s movement, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he whispered, “Quiet down, will you?”

He had already muted the microphone on his end. He could hear the corporate bigwigs’ reports, but they couldn’t catch a peep from his side.

Brielle’s heart felt like it had been struck by something, regretting her impulsiveness. She tried to stealthily withdraw her hand, but he caught it and pressed it against the leather Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

seat.

–

There was warmth on one side, coolness on the other this extreme intimacy brewing in the dim light. Her remaining rationale was nearly exhausted.

Worried that her own heartbeat would betray her, she quickly propped her head up with one hand and pretended to gaze out the window. The fleeting lights cast alternating shadows on her face.

Andrew, watching the scene unfold, was incredibly peeved, his brow furrowing enough to crush a fly. After a moment, his face contorted indescribably, “Brielle, have you no shame?”

Interrupting Max’s video meeting with her antics, it was clear how slutty she could be in

private.

“If I cared about shame, I probably wouldn’t have ended up with Uncle Max.”

Andrew found himself at a loss for words for the first time, his face cycling through various shades before he finally pulled back, deciding to drop it.

After all, Max hadn’t said a word, clearly indulging her.

Andrew sulked for a while before feeling unbearably stifled. “Max, how about we hit up The Sky Lounge tonight?”

The gala had attracted a who’s who of the wealthy, and surely many would be heading to The Sky Lounge afterwards.

Compared to Tequila Sunset, The Sky Lounge was an even more exclusive spot. Perched at the very top of the skyscraper, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows, one could look down and trample the city’s glitz underfoot. If it were a snowy winter’s night, the view was even more breathtaking. The ethereal beauty of the snowflakes melding with the city’s golden opulence was a dreamlike vista few could ever hope to touch.

Dustin’s infamy in the North American elite circles stemmed from the thrill-seeking month

15.30

he booked The Sky Lounge for, night after night. In a media interview, he mentioned the thrill of pressing a woman against the glass, conquering not just her, but the city itself. Thanks to his antics, The Sky Lounge’s profits doubled that year. It was only later revealed that The Sky Lounge was, in fact, one of Dustin’s many private assets.

“Not tonight, I’ve got another meeting later,” Max replied nonchalantly, as if the glitz and glamour couldn’t catch his eye.

Brielle adored this dismissive air of his the more austere and aloof he was, the more she longed to see him in disarray, with reddened eyes and fierce determination.

Eventually, Andrew went off to The Sky Lounge alone, while Brielle accompanied Max back to the estate.

Max was indeed busy. After Brielle had taken her bath, she could hear him downstairs instructing Patrick to book flights.

“Mr. Dorsey, Mr. Hatfield wishes to meet. They’ve booked a room at The Sky Lounge.”

Max frowned, closing the folder in his hand, “Tell the core team to handle negotiations with Flynn. We fly back home first thing tomorrow. Push back the Hatfield Inc. matters, and tell group three to resume the meeting in twenty minutes.”

He removed his Bluetooth earpiece and rubbed his temples with slender fingers. “By the way, tell the old man that the bidding was successful to put his mind at ease.”

Patrick meticulously organized the itinerary on his planner and added, “Ms. Alivia heard you’re abroad and would like to see you tomorrow morning, said she has something to deliver personally.”

“I won’t have time for that.”

“Mr. Lynch just sent a message, asking if Ms. Lucinda would drop by The Sky Lounge, he’s set up a betting pool. Uh, I’m not sure if he got the wrong person. We don’t have a Ms. Lucinda here.”

Patrick hesitated slightly at the mention of Ms. Lucinda.

A shadow deepened in Max’s eyes as he idly twirled a pen, “Tell him Ms. Lucinda was let go by Dorsey International.”

212