Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Brielle couldn’t resist. She stealthily lifted her hand and gently ran her fingers through his hair. His strands were slightly coarse, a bit prickly to the touch, and the coolness slithered from her fingertips like a serpent, unhesitatingly burrowing into her heart.

A man’s head, a woman’s waist – they were territories marked for intimacy.

A softness crept into Brielle’s eyes, and she greedily lingered a few more seconds than she should have, caressing his hair. She whispered his name in her heart, and with a subtle sigh, she drew her hand back.

The afternoon sun was warm, casting a golden glow throughout the room.

Their breathing slowed, both lulled by the tranquility. Brielle had pulled an all–nighter just the evening before, and after a visit to the orphanage, drowsiness was claiming her. Her eyelids fluttered shut, instinctively nuzzling closer to Max.

Dark circles barely shadowed her eyes as Max glanced at her, reaching for a throw blanket nearby. If someone had told him that he’d end up lying in the office break room with a woman, he would’ve scoffed at the absurdity. The office was for work, the break room a place for him to recharge in private, strictly off–limits to others. But now, a simple tilt of his head brought Brielle’s face into view.

The experience was novel. He couldn’t quite pinpoint his feelings for Brielle.

Michael used to say that Max was smart, but would never learn how to love.

When Brielle woke, Max had already left. She stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, taking a moment to remember she was in Max’s private room.

She rose, listening for any signs of activity outside. If she ran into the executives in a meeting with Max, it would be like being caught red–handed, impossible to explain away, even though their relationship was already muddled as it was.

Luckily, all was quiet. She stepped out with confidence, only to lock eyes with Tiffanie, who sat on the couch with a lollipop in her mouth, idly flipping through a finance magazine. Tiffanie’s mouth dropped open, the candy hitting the floor.

“Brielle?” Her voice was a mix of shock and disbelief. “You’ve been sleeping in Maxie’s break

room?”

Tiffanie rubbed her eyes, questioning the reality before her. Even though she knew Max and Brielle had hooked up, Max had a serious obsession with cleanliness in certain areas, especially in the office, a place of gravity. Some other rich guys in the circle might enjoy playing office role–playing at times, but Max was definitely not that kind of person.

It took Tiffanie a moment to recover, bending down to pick up the lollipop and tossing it into the trash. “Who would’ve thought Maxie would ever stash a girl in his office?”

Brielle, caught off–guard, asked, “Tiffanie, what brings you here?”

16:36

Tiffanie sized her up, then snorted, “It’s my birthday. Came to get a present from Maxie.”

Brielle quickly wished her a happy birthday, feeling awkward,

Tiffanie plopped back down, “Birthdays can be such a drag. Remember that actor I fancied? Turned out he was too eager, no challenge at all. Just sickening how he tried to cling on. Had to dump him with an excuse, and now here I am, all alone. Pity, Isn’t it?”

She ranted with disgust about the actor.

Brielle’s mind raced to the gossip linking Tiffanie to Kenzo, but last time at Tequila Sunset, Tiffanie and Kenzo barely interacted. Was the rumor even true? All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

Tiffanie’s gaze returned to Brielle, loaded with implication. “Last time I wanted to have a drink with you, you bolted. How about making it up to me for my birthday?”

With the conversation steered to this point, Brielle couldn’t refuse and nodded in agreement.

Tiffanie’s enthusiasm was palpable as she swiftly booked a private room at Tequila Sunset. “Let me tell you, the male models there are the hottest in Beaconsfield. You’ll see.”

Mid–sentence, the door swung open, and Max stepped in with Patrick, catching the tail end of the conversation.

Tiffanie quickly stashed her phone away, beaming up at Max, “Maxie, where’s my present?” She was bold, her last extravagant request still fresh, yet she asked without hesitation.

Max typically wouldn’t skimp, but this time he simply dropped a file on the desk and took a seat, “It’s deducted.”