Chapter 83
He was supposed to be away on business tonight, not here. Deep down, she prayed he wouldn’t show up. She feared that the protective walls she had painstakingly built would crumble to ruins in his presence.
People mustn’t harbor expectations, for expectations breed vulnerability.
The warmth under her feet hadn’t faded, and as she wanted to curl up, she felt herself forcibly unraveled. She struggled to open her eyes, only to be met with a taut jawline, his breath cool as the frost, threatening to freeze one to the core. Yet, in his presence, she found a strange sense of peace.
Outside the police station, Sophia had already been brought in. She had rehearsed countless excuses in her mind, plotting how she would tear into Brielle upon seeing her. How could that bitch refused settle things privately? How could she drag her, a member of the Rowland family, into this mess?
She was determined to teach Brielle a lesson this time.
Getting out of the car, she saw a tall figure cradling someone into a vehicle at a distance. She was too far away to see who the man was.
“Where’s Brielle? I need to speak with her personally,” Sophia said impatiently as she strode into the lobby, casting a disdainful look at the man also in cuffs, incompetent in every endeavor, a liability at best.
On the way back to Premier Palace, Patrick, seated in the front, hardly dared to breathe.
An hour ago, the car had nearly left Beaconsfield when it turned back. Max had personally gone to the police
station.
It was the first time Max had missed such an important meeting to deal with a woman’s affairs.
Curiosity was killing Patrick, who kept stealing glances through the rearview mirror, but Max’s expression was icy, his hold on Brielle protective and possessive.
The private doctor was already waiting in the foyer. It was the second time in a short span that Brielle had been injured. After tending to her foot injury, the doctor handed a tube of ointment to Max. It was a bruise–healing ointment, necessary for the stark red mark around Brielle’s neck, as if someone had strangled her with considerable force.
Max glanced at the ointment on the table and finally relented. He washed and disinfected his hands thoroughly in the bathroom. Upon returning, he tucked the ointment inside his suit and carried Brielle upstairs.
Brielle tugged gently at his sleeve, perhaps aware that he was angry but not understanding why. She was the one in pain, with a sore neck, sore feet, and aching heart. Her eyes warmed, as if tears were struggling to break free.
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Master of his heart ( Brielle And Max )
What the fuck.. almost 2. Days i started reading this novel no endin at all n jst left half written.....