"Brendan, let go—"

"Deirdre." Brendan interrupted her. His breath landed on her neck and shoulders, and his voice was hoarse. "I'm not as great as Sterling, but please don't leave me."

Upon hearing this, Deirdre's body froze up completely. 'I'm not as great as Sterling, but please don't leave me.'

If other people heard this, they would find his words ridiculous. He was the golden boy who had grown up with a silver spoon in his mouth and the person in charge of the Brighthall Group. He wore all kinds of crowns on his head, and others envied him.

However, he actually said that he was not as great as Sterling, who was scraping around and was less than 1/10 as capable as he was? Or was he acting and, once again, taking advantage of the subtle feelings in her heart?

Deirdre couldn't figure it out. She was not an expert in the business industry, nor had she ever experienced the bloody conflicts of those big families. She was an ordinary person, so she only trusted her intuition.

Brenda