Master of his heart

Chapter 671
Tessa flung herself into Andrew’s arms the moment she saw him, her voice tinged with urgency. “Andrew, let’s go home. I don’t
want to stay here anymore.”
She had been truly terrified, afraid that Andrew would vanish again, afraid he would take Aubree upstairs to some sleazy hotel
room. Thankfully, he came back.
Jaired was nursing a glass of whiskey, his eyes scanning the empty space behind Andrew as he asked, “Where’s your sister?
Didn’t Tessa say you were chatting with her?”
A tremor of rage quaked through Andrew’s chest, his frustration threatening to break free. He yanked Tessa close and stormed
out of the VIP lounge without a word.
Tessa tasted blood in her mouth, a bitter reminder of how quickly Andrew could discard her whenever Aubree was around. He
left her alone and spent what felt like an eternity with her rival. What had they talked about?
Her teeth chattered with rage. Ever since the downfall of the Rowland family, she had been too scared to contact anyone else.
Andrew was her only sanctuary from being outcast by their social circle.
She was haunted by nightmares where Andrew chose Aubree, who pities her with those sympathetic and patronizing eyes.
Tessa forced back the metallic taste of blood. She wouldn’t allow that scenario to play out, not even in death. She would be with
Andrew no matter what.
Tonight was the night. Once they got home, she’d make sure to take their relationship to the next level. Then Andrew would
never leave her. After all, she was untouched, while Aubree was nothing but a cast–off, someone people slept with and
discarded! Andrew would surely choose Tessa.
With that thought, Tessa masked her resentment with weakness, nestling vulnerably into
Andrew’s embrace.
Andrew watched their reflection in the elevator’s polished metal walls. The shadows of his rage, jealousy, and anger seemed to
tear at each other, burning inside him.
Four.

He scoffed. They had been apart less than a month, and she had already been with three other men. The thought disgusted him.
He would never touch Aubree again.
He took a deep breath but could feel his hand, the one holding Tessa, trembling with unrestrained fury. Every muscle in his body
tensed.
Tessa, wrapped in his arms, felt the storm of emotions raging within him. She bit down hard, holding him even tighter. Just one
more night, and she would sleep with Andrew.
11:41
Back in the lounge.
Jaired, feeling lost, turned to Kenzo, who appeared nonchalant on the couch, “Did I say something wrong?”
Cradling a glass of bourbon, Kenzo shook his head slowly, prompting Jaired’s curiosity. “Did you see Andrew’s head wound? I
heard he ripped off the bandages and came straight here. His hands were stained with blood, too. I’m worried he might’ve run
into Max, and they fought again.”
Kenzo showed no concern. His jacket was discarded nearby, revealing a camel–colored sweater. He’d been completely
indifferent, even as Tessa wept and wailed within these walls, not offering a single word of solace.
He was like a lone rose, untouched by the chaos around him. His tall, lean figure lounged on the sofa, exuding a lazy, gentle
vibe.
Next to him, Jaired looked like a thorn, all rough edges and tension.
Jaired propped his head on his hand. “Kenzo, you seem curious about nothing. I’m talking about Andrew being back in the
hospital and his injuries looking worse. Aren’t you the least bit curious if Max was behind it? Andrew stormed out of the hospital
tonight and must’ve been furious. That must’ve opened his wound again, right?”
Of the four, Jaired considered himself to be quite composed. But no one could outdo Kenzo’s stoicism. Different from Max’s
coldness, Kenzo was just smoldering.
Kenzo offered a wry smile, his hands idle. “Did you invite Max?”
“No, but I saw his car. He must be somewhere around here tonight.”

Kenzo leaned back, his tone mild. “Andrew got hit by Aubree. If Max had laid a hand on him, the whole town would’ve known by
now.”
Just like their public brawls, Andrew wasn’t the type to let things slide. His silence meant it was Aubree who had struck.
Jaired chuckled, scratching at his buzz cut, about to comment when Max pushed through the door. He wasn’t in his usual suit but
wore a different colored coat paired with a matching scarf
Jaired let out a “damn” so loud he nearly sprang from the sofa. He rubbed his eyes, making sure he wasn’t seeing things. Max,
the guy who seemed to be born in a suit, was actually dressed down, and Jaired was visibly shocked.
Kenzo’s reaction was muted, his gaze resting on the scarf. Under the dim light, the pattern was hard to discern, but it’s clear that
the hands that crafted that scarf were skilled, and
the pattern woven into it was exquisite.