Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Brielle’s face was pale as she pulled out her smartphone, aiming it at Dustin’s face to start recording.

“Mr. Lynch, I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t desperate to stay alive. A man of your stature surely wouldn’t stoop to quarrel with the likes of me, right? Just promise you won’t come after me again, and I won’t release this video of a woman flipping you over her shoulder.”

Dustin couldn’t help but laugh, still pondering the strength of her move, “You’ve trained?”

Brielle nodded, “Fourth-degree black belt.”

“Not bad.”

Brielle was taken aback, unable to fathom what was going through this man’s mind. Was he actually complimenting her?

She saved the video, no longer pinning Dustin down with her knee. Dustin’s shirt was drenched, and just then his phone started buzzing.

Standing aside, Brielle watched as his fingers deftly played with the gun, his whole demeanor casual and detached. In his eyes, human lives seemed as insignificant as dust. “Andrew, you’ve arrived?”

Whatever the response was, Dustin, after hanging up, began to walk out of the alley. Halfway through, he paused and turned back to glance at Brielle, “You know him?”

Brielle didn’t reply, hearing him continue, “Your eyes reacted when I mentioned Andrew’s name.”

She wanted to deny knowing him. After all, both Andrew and Dustin were after her life. But Dustin didn’t wait for her refusal, abruptly grabbing her wrist and heading straight for the black car parked nearby.

A black stretch Bugatti shimmered through the rain.

Inside the spacious car, Andrew flipped his phone in his palm after ending the call. Across from him, a man exuding an aura of austerity pinched a piece of paper between his fingertips – it was the auction catalogue.

“Max, what’s Michael after this time?”

“The Ten Divine Panes.” This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

Max set the catalogue aside. The scroll was the auction’s showstopper, its price yet to be revealed.

ניר

“No wonder you needed to come personally.”

This scroll had never appeared in auctions before. It was the work of a court painter from the 17th century. Michael had always liked collecting such pieces.

Max glanced outside. Two blurred figures approached through the rain. “You didn’t get into a tussle with Dustin?”

Dustin wasn’t a regular in the social circles of Beaconsfield and was unfamiliar to them. It was unexpected that he would join Andrew at the auction.

The North American elite were even more intricate than the Beaconsfield set, and Dustin, notorious in those circles as a playboy, had a reputation as tarnished as that of a male Tiffanie.

“Why would I fight him?”

“You’re both after Lot 8, right?”

Lot 8 was a one-of-a-kind timepiece. Andrew would certainly fight for Tessa, as in the past/most of these valuable items would end up being sent to the Rowland family.

Yeah, I’m after Lot 8. Dustin’s generous with women, but not every woman is worth splurging on to woo her.”

The timepiece, by conservative estimates, would fetch around eighty million.

Max’s gaze returned to the window, the figures in the rain becoming clearer.

Brielle tried to shake off Dustin’s grip, but he seemed intent on holding on tightly. Once they were seated in the more subdued Mulsanne, Dustin called Andrew in the car ahead.

with

The stretched Bugatti was not far in front, and naturally, he wouldn’t share a ride Andrew. They weren’t that close.

They had originally agreed to meet at the auction, but now, soaked to the skin, Dustin would be delayed.

“Andrew, head on in. We’ll meet at the auction and then you can fill me in on any you’ve got.”

news

Being of similar age and with the Clements family and Infinity Brilliance confirming a partnership, the men had met before and dispensed with formalities.

After hanging up and ensuring Brielle wasn’t going to bolt, Dustin finally released her to start another conversation with the person on the other end of the screen.

“A philosophy student? You think I’d like someone so stiff? All she talks about are cultural paradigms and shifts in consciousness. If she goes on, I might have to get a primer on Rousseau. At dinner last time, she even said that the highest value is being ready to die for an internal ideal. I want her to surrender to me, not to some lofty cause. Look, we’re

not on the same page. Don’t bother me about her anymore.”

Dustin’s brow furrowed, tossing his phone aside in irritation.

For Brielle, it was her first encounter with this privileged son of fortune. Surprisingly, she felt he wouldn’t harm her. There was an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

“Mr. Lynch goes on dates arranged by others?”

It sounded like he was coerced into it.

Dustin gave a lazy smile, the hostility draining away, “It’s more like a selection of

consorts.”