Chapter 570


    Brielle was oblivious to the undercurrents swirling amongst her colleagues as she plowed through the


    morning’s stack of paperwork. By the time she’d finished, her eyes were so sore and swollen it felt like


    they might start watering.


    Rubbing her eyes, she was contemting whether to call an impromptu meeting when her phone


    buzzed with a message from Max. [Lunch?]


    It was as if he had a sixth sense for her well–being. His message was a gentle nudge reminding her not


    to skip meals lest her stomach issues re up again.


    A bittersweet feeling washed over Brielle as she quickly typed back a response. [On my way.]


    Max’s eyes crinkled into a soft smile at her reply.


    He was seated in the boardroom, where the atmosphere had been tense, and the team members


    spoke with trepidation, seeing their CEO’s stern expression. Yet, within less than two minutes, Max’s


    demeanor shifted from stormy to sunny, and the room breathed a collective sigh of relief. One quick–


    thinking team member seized the moment to finish their report, and indeed, there were no objections


    from Max.


    As the meeting wrapped up, everyone felt as if they had been touched by a spring breeze. Their


    respect for the person who could lift the Max’s spirits was growing. Could it be Ms. Alivia?


    Spective nces were exchanged. Perhaps Ms. Alivia was poised to be the CEO’s wife


    soon.


    Despite rumors to the contrary on the inte, those within Dorsey International knew better. After all,


    Ms. Alivia had been involved inpany projects even while overseas, a testament to


    Max’s trust in her.


    The day continued at a breakneck pace for Max, with back–to–back international acquisition meetings


    concluding at three in the afternoon.


    He massaged his temples as Patrick briefed him on the schedule. “At four, you’ve got golf with the CEO


    of the Serenity Group to discuss the new tourism project in Lynn County. Then, dinner at six with Mr.


    Hatfield. Their fragrance business is booming, and they’re likely looking to coborate with Dorsey


    International on a limited edition line. Finally, at eight, we start bidding on the overseas acquisition,


    which will go on for three hours. Thepetition is fierce, with several local powerhouses in the mix.”


    Max’s days were always full, but never before had he felt time was so scarce that even messaging


    Brielle had to be squeezed into the workday.


    “Where’s Sammuel’s dinner ce?” Max inquired.


    “Mr. Hatfield said you could choose the venue.”


    “Then let’s go with Bite and Sip Bistro.”


    Chapter 570


    Patrick rifled through his mental Rolodex. Having been around the block a few times, he couldn’t recall


    ever hearing of Bite and Sip Bistro.


    Feeling a tad negligent for not knowing the CEO’s chosen dining spot, Patrick whipped out his phone


    and searched. The address for Bite and Sip Bistro was just a stone’s throw from Ster Stage


    Entertainment’s headquarters. His lips twitched at the realization.


    It made sense why he was unaware. Bite and Sip Bistro was a fast–food joint.


    Max, a man known for his refined pte, was now opting for fast food just to steal a moment with Ms.


    Brielle amidst his hectic schedule. Was he really bringing Mr. Hatfield of the prestigious Hatfield family


    to a fast–food restaurant? The imagery was almost too bizarre to fathom.


    Still, Patrick didn’t hesitate to secure the venue, arranging to rent out the entire bistro.


    The owner of Bite and Sip thought it was a joke when he heard someone wanted to book the ce for


    three hours for a whopping thirty thousand dors. Their daily turnover was about ten thousand dors,


    and that wasn’t even pure profit once you factored in rent, wages, and other expenses. To them,


    anyone willing to drop thirty grand for a three–hour reservation must have a screw loose.


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    “If you keep this up, I’m calling the cops,” the owner threatened after hanging up on Patrick, then


    instructed his staff to keep the fries and chicken drumsticksing.


    But then his bank ount pinged with the deposit. He had to double–check his vision and the zeros on


    the screen before tremblingly dialing back.


    “I apologize for my ignorance. We’re closing up shop now. May I ask what you’d like to eat? We don’t


    just do fast food, you know. My fries are second to none,” he boasted, hoping to keep this lucrative


    customer happy.