Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

"The thrill of it all is something most folks can't even dream of," she said, laughing and propping her head up with one hand. After she said that, she heard his earnest question. "Like what?"

Irene glanced briefly at a certain part of him. "Like what happened yesterday in the restroom. Haven't you experienced it already?"

Bryan's face instantly flushed red.

The other women had been silently watching these two, utterly baffled. How come this man, impervious to all their flirtations, could blush so readily at just a word or two from Irene? Bryan shot Irene a glare just as a colleague came over to switch shifts, giving him a chance to step aside for a break.

No sooner had he left than all the other women crowded around Irene.

"Girl, how do you do it with men? You've got to teach us."

"Yeah, how do you get such a tough guy all flustered? Share your secrets, please."

"Or better yet, start a class. We'd sign up in a heartbeat."

Irene glanced over at Bryan, who was sitting not too far away, resting, and her lips curved into a smile. "This? You probably wouldn't be able to handle it. I was born with it." The women's faces fell, feeling frustrated and annoyed.

When halftime came, Bryan stepped out for a smoke. Leaning against the railing, a hand reached from behind, plucking the cigarette from his lips and casually placing it in hers, taking a drag and blowing out the smoke leisurely. Bryan squinted, catching a glimpse of her slender waist beneath her shirt, his breath hitching.

Irene finished the half-smoked cigarette, expertly snuffing out the butt. There was a rose tattoo at the small of her back, with a series of numbers and another rose hidden in such a private place, one could only imagine the pain. Watching her smoke, Bryan really wanted to ask about the "001" inked in such a secret spot, hinting it was more than just a lover's mark. But he had tried asking yesterday, to no response.

Lighting another cigarette, he

couldn't get over it. Kissing that rose, his thoughts would drift to it being meant for someone else, turning his excitement bitter. And yet, she was so determined, insisting on coming here, appearing before him time and again. He just didn't get ber.

With a cigarette between his fingers, Bryan watched her suddenly swing her legs over the railing, startling him. tealizing they were on the first floor, his racing heart calmed down. She was a constant worry, a person made of adventure and freedom.

"Bryan."

"Hmm?"

He methodically put out his cigarette, listening as she mused, "I wonder how many years we have left in this life."

"As long as you eat on time, you'll live a long life."

Irene chuckled. "You know I'm not the type to eat regularly or keep a routine unless someone makes me."

"Ms. Irene, if you wanted, there'd be plenty of men willing to take care of you."

Irene didn't reply, just sighed looking off into the distance. "Is it because of that photo you carry? You don't want to look after me?"novelbin

Bryan squinted, surprised she had seen the photo.

Irene turned to face him. "That's the love of your life, right?"

"Yeah, it is."

Hearing his answer, Irene's grip on the railing tightened, her heart aching more than if she'd been shot. Her face paled, quickly looking away to hide her distress. "With someone you loved so much, why take her on such dangerous missions?"

"Because we relished the feeling of entrusting our lives to each other. Facing death, being inseparable in life and death, isn't that romantic?"

Their concept of romance was

distinct from the world's. In the world's eyes, romance was about stability, happy family, a child. But for those who danced on the edge of the knife, romance was holding each other's hands as death approached.

So that was it. That was the kind of romance he desired, the kind of woman he wanted.