Master of his heart (Max and Brielle) novel Chapter 702

Chapter 702 

Taking a deep breath to ease the pain in her legs, she steadied herself against the wall and started walking out. 

At this hour, Dorsey Tower was basically deserted. She took the elevator down. Since her car had been vandalized, her only option was to hail a cab by the roadside. But catching a cab in the wee hours was tough, and the cold had turned her lips a faint shade of purple. 

An hour later, she finally managed to flag down a taxi. By the time she arrived back at Pearl Estate, it was four in the morning. She paid the driver and, with a limp, made her way into the complex, only to find that the lights in her apartment were on. Her brow furrowed at the sight. She must have left in such a rush that she forgot to turn them off. 

As she rode the elevator up, she reached into her bag to get her keys, only to realize with delayed awareness that she had left her purse in Max’s office. Now, aside from her phone, she had nothing. 

Brielle was not usually one to break down. She was often frighteningly strong. But today had been too much. All she wanted was to find a warm place to rest, yet she had left her keys behind. 

Blinking back the tears, she slid down against the wall, not wanting to make another trip to Dorsey International. She had no energy left and just wanted to make do in the hallway for the night. She even tapped on her own door, knowing no one would answer, but she couldn’t help but keep tapping, even as the tears fell uncontrollably. 

Pain shot through her ankle, leaving her both cold and hungry. 

After a couple of knocks, her palm reddened and ached, so she stopped and curled up, resting her chin on her knees and closing her eyes, Footsteps sounded from inside the apartment, and for a moment, she wondered if she was hallucinating. 

She was the only resident on this floor. If those weren’t her footsteps, whose could they be? 

She opened her eyes and slowly lifted her head to see her apartment door cracked open, with Max standing in the light, his gaze soft upon her. The warm, orange light made him look quite unreal. 

Brielle blinked, wondering if the cold had conjured up a hallucination, but before she could think further, this vision crouched down to meet her eye level and even reached out to wipe away a tear from her cheek. 

His touch was moist. “Why are you crying?” he asked. 

Brielle opened her mouth to speak but quickly closed it, fearing the vision would vanish. Even the Max she imagined was perfect. The apartment’s lights bathed him, and for a moment, everything else faded away, leaving only his presence and the warmth from inside. He had shed his suit jacket, wearing just his shirt with the top three buttons undone. This squatting pose exposed a patch of his chest. Max looked at her, not understanding why she was crying so late at night after coming home. He watched as Brielle wiped her eyes and got up from the ground, walking past him into the apartment. 

Max frowned and noticed her closing the door, leaning against the wall to change her shoes, then moving to the couch to grab the blanket he had just laid out and wrapping it around herself. 

Brielle was freezing. The chill from the office had seeped into her bones, and her mind was foggy. She saw the apparition remain still by the entrance, quietly watching her. This hallucination felt so real that she could sense Max’s presence. 

“Brielle, let’s talk.” 

Max stood in the entryway, his heart aching a bit at her deliberate disregard. He walked up to her quickly, grasping her wrist. “Don’t sleep, let’s talk.” 

Brielle was truly exhausted, and his pull barely made her lift her groggy gaze to meet his. As Max touched her hand, it felt like ice, and any lingering sense of loss shattered. He knelt down slowly, cradling her hand in his warm palm.