Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

fist

Emily spun on her heel and departed without another word, leaving Sophia standing there, her face contorted in anger. Clenching her at her side, she spat out, “I’ve apologized already. If Emily doesn’t want. to make amends, that’s her business. Can I go now?”

She sneered to herself, thinking about calling Andrew the moment she was out the door to say she’d done her part. After that, how she’d deal with Brielle was nobody’s concern. She sure as heck wasn’t going to let Brielle off the hook for humiliating her like this. This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

Brielle pushed herself to her feet, leaning heavily on the cane resting. beside her. “Andrew must have told you both to apologize together. Since Emily’s gone, today’s little show doesn’t count. Find another time, and make sure you both show up.”

Sophia was incredulous, feeling like she’d been played for a fool. “Brielle, the only reason I’m standing here is out of respect for Andrew. Who do you think you are, anyway? Without him, someone of your status wouldn’t even have the right to speak to me.” She was fuming, her face red with rage, yet she bit back her anger, remembering Andrew’s instructions.

As Brielle reached the bedroom door, she saw it ajar, with Max about to step out.

Quick as a flash, Brielle slipped through the door and pushed him back

inside.

Outside, Sophia caught just a glimpse of a man’s silhouette through the crack before it vanished.

It was too quick, she hadn’t seen his face, but she sensed he had an air of distinction about him.

B

Brielle stood inside the bedroom, leaning against the door, and found it amusing to see Max being pushed to sit at the foot of the bed.

“Uncle Max, if you went out there now, in less than an hour, all of Beaconsfield would be buzzing about you and me.”

“Afraid?”

Brielle was conflicted, unsure what game this man was playing. He seemed oblivious to the chaos their exposure would bring, not just the tittering gossip but also the potential shock to Michael.

Max could stand tall and unaffected, but what about her? The slightest flick of a wrist from those people could erase her completely.

Her eyelashes fluttered down as her hand, hidden behind her, clenched tight, her nails digging into her palm. “Not now, at least,” she murmured, avoiding his gaze.

Sophia, oblivious to the undercurrents in the bedroom, was left cooling her heels and eventually left in a huff.

Descending the stairs, she couldn’t resist dialing Emily’s number. There was no answer. Sophia was livid. If it weren’t for Emily’s sudden exit, this whole mess would be over.

In a fit of pique, she blocked Emily’s number, vowing never to see that wretch again. As for explaining to Andrew, she’d simply say Emily wasn’t cooperative. And if Brielle dared to tattle to him, Sophia would just spill the beans to Tessa, who, with a mere flick, could make

Brielle’s life a living nightmare.

Content with her plotting, Sophia scoffed and made her way out.

Upstairs, Brielle approached Max and began to pat him down. Finding his phone, she looked up at him. “Uncle Max, can I borrow your phone

for a call?”

Personal items like phones were off–limits to others, but given Brielle’s soft tone and fluttering eyes, Max relented.

She took the phone, unceremoniously grabbing his hand to unlock it with his fingerprint, then dialed Andrew’s number. It was eight o’clock in

17.12

the evening, and Andrew was at the Tequila Sunset, having attended the welcome party.

However, he didn’t particularly enjoy the so–called welcome party, so he just made a brief appearance and found a corner to sit down. Seeing Max’s call, Andrew raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

Alivia, who was with him, assumed Max was coming over and smiled. “Is Max heading this way?” she asked.

Andrew shook his head and answered the call. “Max, what’s up?”

But instead of Max’s voice, a woman’s voice came through the line.

“Mr. Clements.”