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Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Chapter 357
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Chapter 357

Dopamine, the instigator of fondness, the spark behind it all. It represented addiction and

longing. The name Brielle amplified those cravings.

Max had lived for twenty–six years, and for the first time, he admitted defeat.

When Brielle woke up, snow was drifting past the window. She turned over wearily, finding

the other side of the bed empty. Her eyes snapped open, and she sat up abruptly.

The movement sent a wave of soreness through her body, and she frowned, taking in the

unfamiliar surroundings.

It snowed, and Max had returned. They had kissed their way from the elevator to the

doorstep.

Her cheeks burned with heat as she thought of lifting the blanket, only to notice the string

of black beads around her wrist.

Max had given her those beads, leaving a cool kiss on her fingertips.

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Max.

Max.

Her mind was now a whirlwind of thoughts about Max.

After freshening up, she quietly opened the door to the living room. Max was already

dressed in a suit, sipping coffee, and browsing through the documents Patrick had

delivered that morning. He looked up slowly at the sound of her footsteps.

Brielle paused, awkwardly averting her gaze. Her pale skin made the bracelet around her

wrist

stand out even more.

The fairy of the night had brought The Priest down to earth, and that bracelet was a token

of his willing descent.

Brielle walked uneasily, feeling a tender ache with every step. It wasn’t unbearable, but it

stirred an unsettling restlessness within her.

Max reached out, grasping her wrist and pulling her into his embrace. She wore the silk.

nightgown provided by the hotel. Its neckline was modest, but the patchy marks on her

neck. were impossible to cover.

“Max,” she said, frozen in his arms, while he remained casual. His hands encircled her

waist as he continued with his paperwork.

“Hmm?”

Brielle bit her lip, taking a while to relax against his chest.

Max’s chin rested lightly on her shoulder, asking. “Are you hungry?”

Indeed, Brielle felt a pang of hunger, but happiness had come so unexpectedly that she

felt like

Chapter 357

she was walking on clouds, engulfed in a surreal softness.

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Max’s fingertip touched her chin, tilting her face up. “Brielle, don’t you have anything to

ask?” Like why he gave her the bracelet, or why they were having sex again.

Her gaze met his, unaware of how enchanting her eyes were–sparkling, gleaming, like

glass submerged in water. If she were a canary, he wished she’d always sing in the

opulent cage he’d crafted. But he knew well that Brielle was no canary.

His fingertips gently traced the marks on her neck, as he remembered his lack of control.

When he saw those irises abroad, he understood what longing was. He thought he

must’ve liked Brielle.

He had been trying to resist this uncontrollable feeling, but when he saw her bruised and

battered, all thoughts of dopamine, desire circuits, oxytocin, and vasopressin seemed

irrelevant. He just wanted to see Brielle, nothing more.

Max lowered his head to the marked tender skin and kissed those traces gently.

Brielle’s toes curled, and her cheeks flushed. “No.” She knew what he was trying to say,

so there was no need for words to prove it.

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