Master of his heart (Max and Brielle) novel Chapter 1378

Bryan and Irene were getting hitched.

It all happened so fast.

They revamped their place in just a day, picking out everything Irene loved. Jaired had moved out, setting up in another mansion. Meanwhile, Irene was living the ultimate laid-back life, with a bunch of servants bustling around, all silently judging her lazy ways. Even eating dessert seemed like too much effort for her; she preferred Bryan to feed her spoonfuls.

Bryan hadn’t quit his bartending gig, so when she wasn’t lounging at home, Irene often swung by the bar to flirt with him.

When Brielle and King got the wedding invite, they had to double-check it.

“Who’s getting married? Irene?”

Memories of Irene and then of Kenzo flashed through Brielle’s mind, making her chest tighten for a moment. But it quickly passed. Everyone had made their choices, and there was no point in regrets. When you make a choice, you have to deal with the consequences.

King flipped the invitation, noticing the thought put into it. It was clear the guest list was short; just a small gathering for dinner. Irene and Bryan didn’t know many people in Beaconsfield, barely enough to fill one table. They didn't want anything extravagant, so everyone just gathered at their mansion.

Servants were busy cooking, while Irene arranged flowers on the windowsill, ones Bryan had picked up on his way back from work. Jaired and King felt like they were seeing things when they walked in. They'd seen her in action, but never this domesticated side. Dustin felt the same way, especially when Irene smiled and asked what dessert they’d like. The room fell silent; no one knew how to respond.

Everyone knew the North American royalty had beef with the Lynch family. Although Irene’s reign was short, her protégé was now in power, making the future of the monarchy’s relationship with the Lynches uncertain.

Dustin, sitting near Brielle, watched as Bryan fixed the messily arranged flowers on the windowsill, still in his apron, looking like he’d just come from a gardening lesson.

“Bryan,” Irene called, rushing over and wrapping her arms around his waist, fanning herself dramatically.