Master of his heart (Max and Brielle)
Chapter 1344

Jaired's footsteps came to an abrupt halt, his scalp tingling with fury as a wave of anger surged from his feet to the top of his head.

"What the hell? In this godforsaken place, she's still hooking up with men?!"

Back in North America, fine, whatever. At least those guys were clean, handpicked from a crowd. But here? In this disease-ridden wasteland, she hadn't answered her phone all night because she was messing around with the guy from the watchtower? Stomping up the stairs, Jaired felt his vision blur with rage. He'd caught Irene in compromising positions with other men before, but never like this. Irene was clinging to the man's neck, suspended in the air, her legs wrapped around his waist, her face flushed with desire. "Irene!!" Jaired bellowed, his voice thick with disgust.

Clinging tightly to the man, Irene's body was suddenly covered with clothing, Bryan's jacket wrapping around them as he squinted at the newcomer.

Jaired froze upon seeing the man's face, a shiver running down his spine at the uncanny resemblance.

But he didn't dwell on it. This man did resemble him somewhat, but it was impossible that Irene saw the shadow of 001 in him. He knew Irene; she might be promiscuous, but she would never seek out a stand-in for 001, especially not an emotional one. Over the years, Irene had her moments of madness, only showing brief emotional turbulence with Kenzo. But Kenzo wasn't a stand-in for 001; he was Irene's mirror, reflecting the lifelessness within herself.

Now, with Kenzo's perfect exit from the stage, Irene, having ascended to the presidency of North America, found herself alone by the window with a glass of whiskey, envying Kenzo.

She wished to freeze everything at its peak, to find a beautiful resting place.

But she couldn't. She was always looking for a grave but never found one.

She wanted to preserve everything beautiful, but she had pushed it all away herself. She was living like a ghost.

Seeing the flushed woman before him, Jaired was so furious he was ready to draw a sword. He had been worried sick all night, and here she was, frolicking with some man.

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Bryan held Irene tightly, not forgetting to kiss her neck.

"Who's this?" Irene, still caught up in her emotions, her eyes filled with affection, didn't seem like herself.

"I don't know him." She clung to him even tighter.

Bryan sighed in relief, letting her go to help her get dressed.

But who made the first move, who tore at whose clothes first, that was a blur. All that was clear was that Irene's dress was beyond saving.

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Bryan covered her with his jacket,

le meelf in just a pair of

pants, his perfectly toned abs Adonis belt on full display.

"Where to now?" Irene, eyeing his physique, licked her lips, her voice husky from a night of shouting.

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"Let's head to the car and continue, baby."

Bryan chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment.

Jaired, standing aside, nearly passed out from fury, his fingers trembling as he pointed at Irene, stuttering in disbelief.

Once dressed, Irene opened her arms to Bryan, beckoning for his embrace.