Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Max offered a silent apology for letting her suspect go. As the ash from the cigarette pinched between his fingers drifted to the ground, a gentle gust of wind scattered it, making it disappear. The silence between them grew thick, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air. Brielle knew how to put herself in someone else's shoes.

Max had orchestrated this entire scheme with meticulous care, all for the sake of capturing those two individuals. And it was all for her.

He could've remained untouchable, like an ivory tower of indifference, letting things play out on their own. That was his usual way. He was never one to lend a hand directly, to make things too easy for her. Otherwise, she would always turn to him whenever trouble arose. But what would she do if a storm were to hit Max's shores in the future? Who could she turn to then?

Deep down, she always knew that the partner Max needed was someone who could not only enjoy the serene view from the riverbanks with him but also hold his hand tightly through the most tumultuous waves.

So, he seldom intervened, more often than not observing from a distance with a calm detachment. His plan this time was flawless; he had even managed to deceive her without revealing a single clue. If it weren't for her meddling, the suspect wouldn't have escaped- either captured alive or left as a cold body on the ground. Clearly, the individual held a significant position within the enemy's ranks.

Max stubbed out his cigarette, having never really taken a puff. Brielle leaned her cheek against his back, nudging gently. Max's gaze drifted back from the horizon, turning to face her, his head bowing to plant a series of playful kisses along her collarbone. Brielle flinched in pain but dared not resist, assuming the role of someone ready to be consumed. But the wind was strong, and after a brief punitive bite, he simply adjusted her collar.

"We fly back at dawn. Let's go inside and rest," he said.

Brielle nodded, grasping his hand, wanting to accompany him. Max patted her head and headed to the bathroom first to wash away the scent of smoke from his fingertips.

When he emerged, he found her sitting on the bed, her hair cascading down, patting the spot beside her invitingly. The contrast of her dark hair against the white pillowcase highlighted her beauty.

Max's breath hitched for a moment. He was never driven by desire; for over two decades before meeting her, he had been indifferent to the complications of romance. But now, just glancing at her was enough to send heat coursing through his body. He strode over and pulled her into his embrace. "We'll catch up on sleep on the plane."

"Okay," she mumbled, not daring to object after having stirred his anger. And indeed, he kept her awake until the early hours, only relenting a couple of hours before takeoff.

Upon boarding the plane, Brielle

noticed Keiran seated not far away.

Max had thoughtfully brought him

vel

along. However, Keiran was accompanied by a man with cropped hair, androgynous in appearance, and quite striking to the eye. Keiran was chatting and laughing with the man, occasionally leaning on his shoulder and whispering in his ear. Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

Brielle had never seen this person before, but judging by his haughty demeanor, he too was likely a child of privilege, unlike Ricardo's wholesome charm. Exhausted and sleepy, Brielle settled down and leaned into Max's embrace, Soon

drifting off. Max unfolded

blanket and tenderly covered her.

She slept soundly, and upon landing, found herself coincidentally exiting the aircraft alongside Keiran. The man beside Keiran wasn't particularly tall, perhaps around five foot ten, his height diminished next to Keran's stature, but he had a distinguished presence. Summoning the energy, Brielle greeted Keiran, who introduced his companion with a slight smile.

"Brielle, this is my friend, Chase," he said.

Chase greeted her with a simple elegance that hinted at a privileged upbringing. His pride was evident, yet there was an innocence in his eyes that kept it from being off-putting.

"Hi, I'm Chase," he said, his voice slightly raspy, which Keiran explained was due to medication he took as a child—a tale that surely concealed a wealthy family's secrets.

Brielle had no interest in other people's secrets, so after a brief exchange, she followed Max out of the terminal. They were met not by Patrick but by Andrew, dressed in black, leaning against the car with dark circles under his eyes that spoke of sleeplessness.

Upon seeing Max, Andrew flicked his cigarette into a nearby trash can and strode over. "What did you mean by what you said last night?" he asked, the words Max had spoken keeping Andrew tossing and turning all night.