Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

The auction room was abuzz with anticipation as the eighth lot was announced-a Rolex Daytona, the kind of timepiece that screamed extravagance and didn’t just show up at any old auction.

The auctioneer called for the opening bid, and a peal of laughter filled the room when a young woman with a clear voice cheekily offered up five million dollars. It was a joke, and everyone knew it.

Brielle chuckled along, but her amusement was short-lived as Andrew coolly dropped a bid of twenty million dollars. She turned to see him, his expression dead serious, the look of a man on a mission.

She felt a twinge in her chest, not for herself, but for her friend Aubree. She knew that this grand gesture wasn’t meant for Aubree. Sure, Andrew was generous with her, but the gifts he gave her, though expensive, were never this extravagant-certainly not the kind of thing that would have him jet- setting across the world to bid in public.

As her hand curled into a fist at her side, she listened to the bids rise and fall. Andrew stood his ground, calm and collected with each increase. And in the end, the watch was his for a staggering fifty-five million dollars. Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

Brielle’s expression soured, and Dustin, sensing her mood, leaned in close to whisper, “Fancy it, huh?”

He even entertained the thought that if she wanted it, he might step into the bidding ring

himself.

She shook her head, her voice a soft sigh. “It’s just not fair to my friend.”

Dustin moved in even closer, their hair almost mingling as he murmured, “Your friend’s got a thing for him?”

“Sort of.”

Squinting at Brielle, Dustin took a moment to study her face. “Your friend likes Andrew, and you like Max-birds of a feather, you two.”

Brielle tensed, hoping Max hadn’t overheard. “Mr. Lynch, don’t be absurd. I do not.”

Dustin chuckled, “I kinda hope you don’t. Max is notoriously tough to handle.”

He leaned in again, seeming to enjoy their hushed exchange. “Back in his Harvard days, some girl slipped him and herself a love potion.”

In the midst of the grand auction, they were both engrossed in the gossip. Brielle gasped, unable to resist asking, “Then what?”

“Well, she locked herself and Max in a room for a whole day and night. When the cops

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finally broke in, guess what?”

Brielle’s heart raced despite herself.

As she looked hooked on every word, Dustin indulged her curiosity. “The girl was out cold, tied to a chair, face flushed red. And Max? His arms were covered in blood. He’d cut

himself to stay awake.”

Brielle bit her lip, impressed by Max’s endurance. Then, she remembered how she slept with Max using one drink. She was instantly feeling guilty.

“Must’ve been a weak potion,” she mused.

Dustin gave her a knowing look. “That stuff was banned across North America because it worked too well. No man could resist that. After the whole scandal, a lot of folks thought there was something wrong with him.”

Blushing, Brielle thought of Max’s fierce resolve. He was more than capable.

“Mr. Lynch,” she whispered, eager for more juicy tidbits, completely forgetting the decorum of the occasion.

A firm tug on her wrist snapped her back to reality. Max’s voice was icy as he pulled her in. “You two practically head-to-head. What are you, becoming blood brothers?”

Dustin had more gossip to share, but as Brielle was whisked away, his brow furrowed in frustration. “Max, you do your thing, I do mine. Why can’t we keep to our own lanes?”

Their gazes clashed in the air.

Max cracked a smile. “Because it seems you’re playing with what’s mine.”

Dustin was left speechless by the rebuke, while Brielle, flushed and flustered, lowered her head and straightened up, her thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind.

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