Master of his heart (Max and Brielle) novel Chapter 56

Chapter 56

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.”

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

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“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.