Master of his heart (Max and Brielle)
Chapter 1060

Of course, those training sessions were filled with their fair share of close encounters.

"Watch out for the recoil with this hand. Hold it steady," King instructed, standing right behind her, his breath tickling her ear as he guided her through disassembling a gun in seconds. "Little Canary, pay attention. This could save your life someday," he said.

The training room was packed with all kinds of weapons, but her hands were just too small for any of them. She'd mentioned wanting a custom-made one.

King's eyes had met hers then, with a look that said he knew exactly what she was thinking-that she might use that custom gun on him.

He wasn't into digging his own grave, so he pulled her close, a smirk on his lips, "Planning to make me bite the bullet?"

Brielle didn't say a word, but her silence was answer enough. That was the first time King tasted the bitterness of heartache.

He was suddenly reminded of his mother, the woman who had thrown herself into the royal family for love, only to end up in a miserable state. He thought he was different, that he could control his destiny. But love can't be forced, not even with mountains of gold could he win her smile.

So why bother being nice?

"Focus on your training. Miss a shot, and you'll be punished. You know how I like to punish you," he said, his tone casual as he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling.

"With that in mind, I bet you'll improve quickly, won't you?"

Under his threats, she did learn fast. Naturally talented, her shooting skills soon reached above average.

King hadn't expected Max to be the one to finally craft her a custom gun. Both had invested in her, yet it was Max who reaped the rewards.

"Bang!"

Brielle, lost in thought, missed her shot. The next second, she was pinned against the wall, King's kiss leaving her breathless and speechless.

The next day, and the day after that,

it was the same. Brielle practiced while King lounged on the couch, watching her progress from fumbling with parts to expertly disassembling the gun, a smile playing on his lips.

But his joy was short-lived. Brielle, gripping the gun, aimed it straight at him.

He had seen this coming. Calmly, he continued reading his newspaper.

"If you pull that trigger, have you thought about the consequences? I can destroy everyone you care about in Beaconsfield, including the orphanage."

His threats were always so blunt. Brielle's gun shifted back to the target.

Putting down his newspaper, he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

"Why are you still so disobedient?" he murmured. Brielle's body trembled, her shot going wide. Her skills had been improving, and he rarely caught her out like this.

His kiss was forceful, sparing no part of her. Being with him was like dancing on the edge of a cliff-romantic but deadly, never knowing when you'd fall.

Eventually, she stopped practicing because King refused to get her a custom gun. When he was around, he pushed her to her limits, and when he wasn't, she felt lost and despondent. This time, King brought a man named Myles. From the first glance, Brielle felt something familiar about him, but couldn't quite place it.

After Myles arrived, King's visits became more frequent and more demanding. Brielle realized she had truly become his caged canary, unable to escape her gilded prison. Any defiance led to days confined to

bed.

QUMS

Even with Myles around, King didn't hold back. Knowing someone was outside only made him more ferocious, intentionally making her cry out, embarrassing her. It became his favorite game. Brielle grew more despondent until Myles sought her out for a talk.

"Ms. Brielle, opposing him will only make things worse. Say a few kind words, and he'll do anything for you," he advised.

Her pride was deep, and even if it

burned, it would leave ashes. She'd been through a lot recently, with barely a spot on her body unmarked. Facing Myles, she remembered being pinned down in the living room the night before. If she wasn't mistaken, Myles' room was on the first floor. He must have heard everything.