Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

**Max Dorsey had rigged the equipment himself.**

Brielle was stunned into silence, feeling the sting as if she were the one who had been slapped, not Alivia.

"Liar," Max spat, kneeling down to punish her again.

Tears welled up in Brielle's eyes. After what felt like forever, she watched as Max stood up, his desires now in disarray. Seeing this usually composed man lose control left her defenses shattered; she had already surrendered. She was about to speak when his fingertip slipped into her mouth, pinching the tip of her tongue. "Don't talk; I won't like what you have to say."

Her eyes, still glistening from the tears, met his. Unable to utter a word, she could only stare. Max ignored her silence and bent down to kiss away the moisture from her lips before moving on to his main course. With Max, Brielle never spoke her truth. It was best to keep her mouth shut.

As they were winding down, Brielle was so exhausted she could barely keep her eyes open. Considering she had just been discharged from the hospital, Max held back, scooping her into his arms and preparing to leave. All the surveillance along the route had been disabled. He got into the car, holding her close.

Patrick was driving, mulling things over before deciding to spill the beans. "There are a bunch of new cameras around Pearl Estate, probably put up by the old man to keep tabs on you and Ms. Brielle," he said. "We've dealt with the ones around Premier Palace. Since you haven't been answering your phone, the old man's getting aggressive."

"Hmm, is James' family taken care of?" Max asked.

"They've been secretly moved out of the country with thirty million bucks. They're in a scenic, safe place, and the old man won't be able to find them."

Max looked down and patted Brielle's cheek. "Did you hear that?"

Brielle, eyes closed, kept pretending to sleep.

Max chuckled, a bit exasperated, his eyes reddening slightly. He pressed his lips together and gently put her down outside the car. "Brielle, do you really think I'm invincible?"

Her feet had barely touched the ground when she "woke up." Sweat beaded on her forehead; she didn't dare look at him through the car window.

Inside, Max reached over and pressed her head down for a forceful kiss. "How about we keep this quiet, just between us? Deal?"

If she refused again, he'd lock her away in Premier Palace right then and there, since her mouth always seemed to speak in contradictions.

Brielle's legs were unsteady, her voice hoarse. Max braced for another sharp retort, but instead, she opened the car door and climbed back in. "Patrick, could you step out for a moment, please?" she asked, her voice raspy and cheeks flushed.Content from NôvelDr(a)ma.Org.

Patrick didn't dare refuse and scampered off faster than anyone.

Max frowned, wondering what trick she was about to pull-was it a breakup, or a declaration of dislike? But a second later, the car windows rolled up. Her fingers went this belt, unbuckling it. FindNovel

Standing at a distance, Patrick's mind raced with possible scenarios: the car shaking, a hand pressed against the window...

But there was nothing. Only silence from the car.

He waited patiently, lighting a cigarette. Though Max smoked, he didn't actually like the smell, so as his assistant, Patrick smoked even less. But with the stress of Brielle's hospitalization and Max's foul mood, he felt like he was constantly in the presence of a chilling air conditioner. Now that the two seemed to be reconciling, he wanted to set off fireworks.

Inside the car, Max held Brielle's hair between his fingers, the scent of her shampoo intoxicating. He tilted his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing. Deadly. This vindictive little woman. Half an hour later, Brielle stepped out of the car, wiping her lips. Through the window, Max watched her, a red-hot sting in his gaze.

Brielle tucked her hair behind her ear, licked her lips, and stared at him without a word.

Max suddenly laughed, handing her the gun she had lost. Brielle took it, her voice rough, "There's a problem with Mark's identity."

The only person who could be

replaced without suspicion, with no

friends or family to notice, was Mark. And the other deceased woman was Mark's wife, making it even more likely that the dead man was indeed Mark.