Master of his heart (Max and Brielle)
Chapter 1125

Kenzo casually pulled his leg back, noticing a smear of blood on his shoe tip, his brow knitting slightly. "What's with that kid?"

He knew the child belonged to Max and Brielle, but the specifics of their sudden split were a mystery to him.

"Cough, cough, cough."

Myles, reeling from the kick, lay gasping on the floor, a pitiful sight.

"Kenzo, you-"

Before he could finish, Kenzo's foot pinned his head to the ground again.

Kenzo's expression remained indifferent, his gaze on Myles as if he were merely an object.

"I told you to know your place."

Myles spat out a mouthful of blood, his eyes brimming with defiance despite the humiliation.

"I am the King, and I am Max; that's my identity. Brielle will be my little princess. I'll cherish her, live with her in a castle. Have you seen her face when she's under me? Of course, you haven't! Because you'll never get the chance. She only screams for me." Kenzo frowned, pulling his foot back. Had his self-control really slipped this much?

"Cough, cough, cough."

Myles lay beaten, yet in his heart, he still saw himself as the untouchable King.

Kenzo chuckled, dusting off his hands as his associates entered the room.

"Bring him back to reality."

Myles was deep in his delusions, needing a sharp dose of pain to snap out of it.

That was something these folks excelled at.

Soon enough, someone brought in boiling water and an iron comb.

"Mr. Kenzo, this is my favorite method. Scald his skin with the boiling water, then peel off the cooked flesh with the iron comb. Keep repeating the process until you reach bone. Don't worry, he'll come back to reality soon enough." Kenzo was uninterested in these brutal tactics.

He stepped out of the room, and soon, Myles' screams of agony filled the air.

As Kenzo walked into the front hall, he found a striking woman waiting for him. She wore a thin dress, a cigarette dangling between her red lips, her hair dyed a golden hue. Her gaze fell on Kenzo, visibly intrigued.

The dance of attraction was clear, the invitation laid out, waiting to see if the other party was willing to play along.

The woman clearly had designs on Kenzo, and it was undeniable that his looks were unmatched, even by the heartthrobs of Hollywood.

His demeanor was gentle, yet those who knew him understood this was merely a facade.

"Kenzo, welcome to the fold. Are you hurt? Come to my room; let me tend to your wounds." Her emphasis on "my room" was deliberate, her eyes roaming over him suggestively. This was a vast compound, surrounded by key figures of the organization.

Irene was the only woman among these central figures, not just for her prowess but also because she was the daughter of the organization's leader, his only child.

Many sought her favor, yet now her attention was firmly on Kenzo.

The envy in the room was palpable as Kenzo, a newcomer, had already caught Irene's eye.

Her approach was bold, her fingers lightly tracing Kenzo's throat.

"You've been injured badly. Running around without treatment could lead to infection."

Kenzo looked down, his expression unreadable.

After a moment, he reached out, pulling her closer.

"Where's your room?"

Irene smiled.

Her room was at the very top, befitting the leader's beloved daughter, an entire floor to herself.

Their kiss was intense, mostly driven

by

initiative. Yet, with Kenzo's

me face, she felt no shame

in making the first move.

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"How many men have you been with?" Kenzo paused to ask.

Irene raised an eyebrow. "Worried I might be sick? Relax, I only sleep with virgins. But whether you're one doesn't matter to me."

For Kenzo, captivating a woman was all too easy.

Irene was mesmerized by his unique

aura, as if he was carved from jade, especially when that face was kissing her, her eyes clouding with desire.

Yet she failed to notice the cold clarity in Kenzo's eyes.

She was the only one lost in the moment.