Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Chapter 152

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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.

Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt

You should sit.”

Patrick, who had been by 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,

Brielle was something special.

Brielle stood at the dining table, feeling as if the apartment had never shone so brightly.

Meanwhile, Aubree had already started smiling, arms 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?”

“So, about tomorrow night’s dinner party, are you going to accompany Bri?”

Neither Max nor Brielle had expected Aubree to make such a request. Brielle hurried

forward to intervene, but saw Max already looking her way. “Do you want me to go?”

From a rational standpoint, his presence wouldn’t change much. After all, there was

nothing between them. But if Brielle wanted it, he couldn’t find a reason to refuse.

Before Brielle could speak, Aubree jumped in, “The Haywoods won’t let Bri off easy, and

neither will the Spencer. There is Sophia from the Rowlands, and Emily, who’s been in

trouble with the law. I bet the Hatfields will also come after her.”

Considering this, Brielle’s situation seemed precarious.

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But just as Aubree finished, Patrick emerged with the fruit, chiming in, “The 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 Ms. Brielle.”

Realizing he had said too much, Patrick hurriedly placed the fruit platter on the coffee

table. “Ms. Brielle, Miss Aubree, please enjoy the fruit.”

The fruit, washed by Patrick, had been artfully carved by the chef, making it instantly

more. appealing. However, both women were now more curious about Patrick’s revelation.

Brielle turned to Max, inquiring. “Mr. Dorsey spoke with the Hatfields?”

Max’s lips tightened, a flash of annoyance crossing his face. He’d always preferred action

over words. Being so blatantly exposed made him feel uncomfortable.

“Hmm.”

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Brielle hadn’t expected that a mere word from Max could eliminate a potential enemy. Her

heart suddenly felt warm.

Max’s aloofness could be hurtful, but his occasional tenderness was touching. He was

different from the others, and she knew she shouldn’t expect anything more.

It was then that Aubree shook her skirt, “Bri, Mr. Dorsey is far more reliable than Andrew.

And even if things don’t work out in the future, I’m sure Mr. Dorsey won’t be stingy, right?”

The last question was aimed at Max.

Max frowned reflexively, “Don’t compare me to Andrew.”

A shadow passed through Aubree’s eyes before she smirked sarcastically. “So Mr. Dorsey

acknowledges that Andrew is scum? Well, that scum was quite generous last night, giving

Bri thirty million.”

As soon as she finished, Max produced a card, placing it on the table and solemnly sliding

it toward Brielle.

Aubree blinked in confusion.

Brielle was doubly puzzled.

Wasn’t he not comparing himself to Andrew?

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Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

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