Mr Masters: Chapter 10

I walk along the hallway upstairs, prepared to start the morning routine. “Rise and shine, lovely little people,” I call.

I open Willow’s door. “Will, time to get up.”

“Get out,” she sighs groggily.

I continue walking down to Sammy’s room.

“Sammy, wake up, little angel,” I call as I walk in and sit on the end of his bed. We have a morning routine now. He crawls out of bed, onto my lap, and we cuddle for a few minutes until he wakes properly.

“Good morning.” I kiss his perfect little forehead, and he snuggles in closer. “How’s my little man today?” I ask.

“Good,” he mumbles sleepily.

We sit for a moment longer. “Get yourself washed up and I’ll meet you downstairs, okay?”

He nods and toddles off to the bathroom, leaving me alone.

“Miss Brielle?” Mr. Masters calls from his room.

What the hell? I walk into his bedroom to find him with a white towel wrapped around his waist, and he’s shaving in his bathroom mirror.

My eyes widen.

“W-what are you doing home?”

He smiles at my obvious shock. “I do believe I live here.”

I shake my head. “I meant, why aren’t you at work?”

He carefully guides the razor down his cheek through the shaving cream, and I swallow the lump in my throat. The power radiating from his body nearly kills my ovaries, it wrestles them unconscious.

“I don’t have court this week. I have a scheduled break as I have conference meetings. Take a seat, please. I need to talk to you for a moment.” He concentrates on his jawline.

My heart begins to beat faster. “Okay,” I whisper. My eyes roam over his bare, muscular back, then over his rippled abdomen. He has a trail of dark hair that runs from his navel, disappearing beneath the towel. My mouth goes dry.

He’s just so…

I get a vision of his head between my legs the other night and I begin to tingle. This is one hell of a morning show.

I take a seat on his freshly made bed and glance around nervously. The room smells like him—like chocolate body paint that’s crying out to be worn.

His eyes meet mine in the mirror. “Unfortunately, I have a very busy week and will need you to do a few extra hours, if that’s okay.” He hesitates. “Of course, you will be financially compensated.”

“Sure,” I mutter. God, I wish we had these naked bathroom meetings every morning. This is definitely a sight for the spank bank.

I’ve never actually seen a man with a body this good.

He’s chiseled, muscular, and so, so masculine.

“I won’t be home tonight as I have to go out if that’s all right, but I won’t be home too late,” he says, snapping me out of my little fluffy white towel fantasy.

“Sure.”

I roll my lips to stop my tongue from hanging out while I watch him.

Honestly, this is next level perving. I wish I could take a photo for Emerson. She wouldn’t believe what I’m seeing right here.

That’s if I could frigging tell Emerson. Ugh.

Julian turns toward me and my eyes drop to his broad chest and the scattering of dark hair that dusts it. I can see every muscle in his stomach.

Drop the towel, drop the towel, drop the towel.

“… need from me,” he finishes.

“Huh?” Shit. I forgot he was talking, and my eyes snap up to meet his. “Sorry. What did you say?”

He smiles a knowing smile. Damn it. I totally just got busted drooling over him. “I said… Is that all you need from me?”

“Erm.” My eyes drop down to his crotch, and then back up to his face. “That’s all I need from you, sir.”

He chuckles as he washes the razor under the hot water, his eyes ablaze with naughtiness.

Something’s different about him today. What is it?

“You seem to be especially mischievous today, Mr. Masters?” I smirk.

He smiles as he continues to shave. “Perhaps it’s the company I’m keeping.”

I smile as I walk out of the room. “You’d better concentrate or you’ll cut your pretty face.”

“It’s handsome, not pretty,” he calls after me, and I smile to myself as I walk down the stairs.

He’s certainly right about that one.

I’m fuming. A big, bubbling cauldron of anger is about to blow over within me.

This serves me right. I knew something like this was about to happen, and now I can’t even tell Emerson what’s really going on.

“Why are we here again?” Emerson asks.

I narrow my eyes as I look at the restaurant across the road from us. “We’re

spying,” I mutter quietly.

Hank looks over as he licks his ice cream. “On who?”

It’s 9:30 p.m. and I’m in an ice cream shop with Emerson and Hank—Emerson’s flatmate.

He’s an odd looking fellow as well as a raging virgin, but I really like him. We met when he came out with us on Saturday night and it is Em’s—and my—new mission to get him laid.

“Julian has a date tonight,” I tell them moodily.

Emerson screws up her face. “So?”

“So… I want to see who this Bernadette is, with her stupid toffee voice.”

“You like him now?” She rolls her eyes. “You are actually admitting it?”

“No. This is…” I try to think of a suitable answer. “I’m just checking on him for the sake of the kids.”

Hank smirks as he licks his ice cream.

“That’s a deplorable lie and you know it,” Emerson grumbles. “Did he tell you he had a date?”

‘No, the girl-woman, whatever she is—rang and left a message with me, asking me to tell him she had changed the arrangements. Apparently, his phone was switched off and she couldn’t reach him.’ I sigh disgusted.

Emerson frowns as she looks across the street. “What did he say when you gave him the message?”

“He seemed uncomfortable.”

She smirks at me.

“What?” I snap.

“I love it when I know something others think I don’t know.”

I smile and tap my ice cream to hers. “Same here.”

I turn my attention to Hank. “Tell me about the concert.” He went to a dance concert at the weekend and we set him some tasks.

Hank smiles proudly.

“He did it. Hank kissed a girl.” Emerson smiles.

“You did?” I can’t hide my excitement. “This is great. Did you get to second base?”

“No.” He screws up his face because it sounds so foreign to him.

The doors of the restaurant open, and we all slide down in our seats. “Here they come,” Emerson whispers.

Mr. Masters is wearing a navy suit, and he holds the door open for the woman and as she walks through. He takes her hand in his.

My mouth falls open. “Are you kidding me?” The girl he is with is blonde, beautiful, and she’s wearing a red dress.

“What?” Emerson whispers. “Why are we whispering? He can’t hear us. She’s pretty. I’m impressed.” She raises her eyebrow in surprise.

“She’s young!” I snap. “Is he frigging kidding?”

‘She’s in her late twenties, I’d say,’ Emerson tells me. ‘That’s not too young. What seems to be the problem?’ Steam feels like it’s shooting from my hot ears. ‘What would a young bombshell want with a middle-aged man like that?’

Emerson rolls her eyes. “Funny you should ask that. I do wonder myself.”

Hank snickers. “Touché.”

“She’s just after his money,” I grumble.

Emerson raises her eyebrow. “Remind me again; why we are spying on him?”

“Because he’s a fucking idiot,” I snap way too loudly.

We sit in silence as we watch them walk around the corner, hand in hand.

Emerson’s eyes hold mine. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“What’s going on?”

I hesitate for a moment. I’ll just tell her a snippet and warm her up to the idea. “I’m really attracted to him. Every time we’re in the room together the sexual chemistry is off the charts.”

Emerson’s eyes widen, filled with horror. “Will you stop it?”

“What?” I shrug. “We came on this holiday to explore ourselves. I want to explore him.” I sigh. “He’s fucking gorgeous.”

“So what if he’s gorgeous? This is a bad idea. Do not engage in any sexual relations with that man or you are going to end up being Monica Lewinsky.”

I giggle. “Slight exaggeration.”

“Who is Monica Lewinsky?” Hank frowns.

Emerson and I both shake our heads. “Long story.” I sigh.

“If he wasn’t your boss I would say go for it, but he is your boss. If you want to explore this, fine, but find another job first.”

I point at her. “That’s a really good idea.”

“I didn’t mean you should leave.” She frowns. “I meant don’t do it.”

I lick my ice cream, annoyed with my friend. Emerson doesn’t need to know all my business anyway.

I’m sick to fucking death of doing what everyone else expects of me.

If I want him, I’ll have him.

“And, of course, there’s now the small matter of his girlfriend.” Emerson sighs. “He’s not even on the market for you to have.”

I roll my eyes, annoyed by her fact-finding. I can’t believe he’s got a girlfriend.

He’s now just another fucking asshole notch to add to my bedpost.

I open the car door for Bernadette and watch as she slides into her seat before I walk around and get in beside her.

Her eyes flicker over to me, and she rubs my thigh. “Let’s go back to my place. The kids are with their father.”

I take her hand in mine to stop it from exploring, and I pull out into the traffic. “I can’t tonight.”

Her face falls. “Why not?”

Here we go. I knew this was coming.

“I’ve got things on tomorrow. I need to get home.”

“What’s going on with you? I haven’t seen you for two weeks and now you don’t even want to come back to my place when we finally get to see each other.”

“Nothing is going on with me.”

“Are you seeing someone else?”

I roll my eyes. “If I am, it doesn’t matter because we, Bernadette, are not exclusive. You’ve known that all along.”

She stays silent and I find myself glancing between her and the road. “What?” I ask, cutting through the silence.

“You’ve stopped putting any effort in.” She folds her arms across her chest.

“Because you put enough effort in for the both of us. Don’t start this shit now, I’m not in the fucking mood,” I groan.

“Not in the fucking mood?” she hisses, clearly pissed off. “You know I’m monogamous to you. You know you’re the only man I see. Don’t treat me like a fool.”

I bite my bottom lip, forcing my eyes to stay on the road.

She watches me for a moment. “It’s because of what I said the last time we were together, isn’t it?”

I clench my jaw and remain silent.

“I told you I love you and this is how you act.”

“And that is my precise problem,” I yell, losing control. “I told you I don’t want a relationship.” I glare at her. “You knew. You fucking knew! And then you go and tell me you love me. You lost me with those three words.”

“What is so bad about being in a relationship, Julian?”

“It’s not who I am. I want a friendship with a woman who I care about.”

“But if you don’t see other women, why not call it a relationship?”

“Because I don’t want to. I don’t want the expectation of what’s coming next. I don’t want to be in love. I don’t want anyone to be in love with me.”

She watches the road, her face like stone, and we stay silent for a while.

Guilt suddenly fills me and I reach over to grab her hand. “Let’s just leave it.”

Her face falls. “You don’t want to see me anymore?”

I shake my head. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” She begins to panic. “We’ll just go back to being casual.”

I exhale heavily and lift her hand to kiss the back of it softly. “I can’t continue to see you knowing that you love me when I don’t feel the same.”

Her eyes fill with tears, and she drops her head.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

Her tears begin to fall, and she cries quietly for the rest of the trip until I pull into her driveway.

We sit in silence for a moment. I feel like absolute shit knowing I’ve hurt her.

I’ve felt this feeling many times before. They all fall in love with me. I always leave them when they do.

“Why?” she whispers as her eyes search mine. “Did I do something wrong?”

I shake my head. “Angel, no.” I pull her into an embrace. “It’s me. I’m. I…”

“You’re what?”

“I’m not wired like most.”

“What do you mean?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, but at times like this, it’s difficult.”

“Have you done this before?”

I nod with regret.

She leans over, kissing me softly, and our lips linger over each others.

“Can’t we work this out?” she whispers. “I’ll be patient and I won’t push you. I promise.”

I smile as I look down at her. She really is beautiful. I brush the hair back from her face. “No. I’m going to free you up for a man who can really love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

Her eyes crease together and more tears fall. “But I’m in love with you.”

I kiss her once more before I open my door and climb out. I go around and open her car door, holding her hand to help her climb out. She clings to me one last time, her pain palpable.

“Julian, please? Please, don’t go. Come inside.”

“Stop,” I whisper as I wipe the tears from her eyes. “I’m going to say goodbye and you are going to walk inside and never think about me again.”

The tears stream down her face.

“Okay?” I whisper as I hold her two cheeks in my hands.

She nods.

I kiss her one last time. “You’re an amazing woman. Go and find a man who deserves your love.”

She smiles, despite her tears, and we squeeze each other’s hand one last time. When she turns to leave, I put my hands into my trouser pockets and I watch her walk to her front door. She turns back and waves sadly. I smile and wave goodbye.

She opens the door and disappears inside.

I turn and get into my car, and before I know it, I‘m opening up my front door. The house is dark, lit only by the kitchen light, and I lie on the living room floor, staring up at the ceiling.

Why am I like this?

What’s wrong with me?

It’s 9:00 a.m. on Tuesday morning, and I’m sitting outside the principal’s office as I wait for our scheduled meeting about Willow. He couldn’t see me before now. I don’t know what the hell he does that is so important, but I intend to find out.

I’m already furious because of my stupid twat of a boss. He came home not long after me, so I’m not sure what happened on his date.

Either way, I’m off him.

This principal better not mess with me in here or he will meet his maker. My leg bounces up and down as I wait. After speaking with Willow in depth this morning, I now know that it’s a group of six girls who are picking on her. They pick on everyone, apparently. Willow’s best friend moved schools about a year ago, and that’s when they turned their attention to her. She assures me that it’s okay and not to worry, but it’s not okay. Ever.

I glance at my watch.

Come on. What is he doing?

I can’t believe I fucked him.

I get a vision of Mr. Masters’ face between my legs, and I just want to gouge my eyes out. How can I stop seeing this shit? What an idiot I am.

I exhale as I feel my underarms heat with perspiration.

“Come on,” I whisper, my leg bouncing harder as my anticipation builds and builds. “What the hell are you doing in there?”

The office door opens, and a man in a grey suit walks out. He’s in his early sixties and very distinguished. He smiles kindly and shakes my hand. “Hello, I’m John Edwards.”

“I’m Brielle, thank you for making time to see me.”

He gestures into his office. “Please, come in.” I walk past him and take a seat at his big, fancy desk.

He sits opposite me and links his hands in front of him. “How can I help you today?”

I swallow nervously. “I have some concerns about Willow Masters getting bullied.”

He frowns. “I’m sorry. Are you her parent or guardian?”

I clutch my handbag on my lap with white-knuckle force. “No. Willow’s mother died five years ago in a car accident. I’m her nanny.”

His face falls. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“I overheard a girl from this school say something to her that disturbed me greatly.”

“What was that?”

“She said that Willow’s mother probably killed herself to get away from Willow.”

“Dear God,” he mutters. “When was this?”

“At the weekend.”

He frowns. “On school grounds?”

“No. During football practice, at the playing field.”

His face falls. “Unfortunately we’re unable to do anything about weekend activities.”

“I know. But I wanted to speak to the school counsellor and see if she has noticed anything going on here at school.”

“Yes, of course.” He scribbles a phone number on the back of a business card. “Call that number on Monday morning and make an appointment to see him. He’s very helpful.”

I smile and take the card. “Thank you.” I glance at the name.

Steven Asquith

“I’m sorry I can’t help more, but I will send out an email today to all of her teachers and ask them to call you, if you like?”

“That would be fantastic.” I smile.

‘That way we can tackle it at the grassroots level.’

“Perfect.”

“Shall I schedule a meeting for this time next week so we can update each other on any of our findings?”

I smile gratefully. “That would be great, thank you. I’m sure you can understand that this is a sensitive issue. I don’t want Willow to suffer any more unnecessary stress.”

“Of course.” We both stand and he shakes my hand. “Have a great weekend and we will meet again next week.”

I head out of the office feeling a little better that we are at least starting to get to the bottom of it, but then I stop dead in my tracks.

The blonde bitch—the one who asked me to buy her coffee, also known as the bully’s mother—is behind the reception desk. She’s wearing a white dress and black high heel pumps, dolled up like mutton with a full face of makeup. She doesn’t see me, and she turns and walks down the corridor in the opposite direction.

I stand for a moment, watching her walk away.

I approach the reception window. “Excuse me, can you please tell me what that woman’s name is?”

The young girl on reception looks around. “I’m sorry, who?”

“The woman in the white dress who was just here.”

“Oh, that’s Tiffany Edwards.”

“What’s she doing here?” I ask, my eyes glued to the back of this Tiffany Edwards.

“What isn’t she doing here?” The girl laughs, and I can tell she’s not into the politics of the school. “She volunteers here.”

“Volunteers?” I ask.

“She practically runs the school.”

“Does she?” I fume.

“Yes.” The girl looks around to see if her colleagues can hear us gossiping. “You don’t want to get on the wrong side of her, that’s for sure,” she whispers.

“And why is that?”

“She knows everybody.”

I glare at Tiffany Edwards’ perfect little behind as it disappears, and my blood begins to boil.

“Tell me… where do I sign up to volunteer?” I ask.

“Really?” The girl winces. She leans forward so she can say something the others won’t hear. “They can be brutal in there.”

I smile sweetly. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

I drive down the road when my email pings on my phone. I glance over at it.

I narrow my eyes and pull over to park the car. I glance up and see a coffee shop. Before I open the email, I decide to make my way inside. I order a coffee and take a seat, eventually opening the email.

I narrow my eyes. Of all the nerve.

Is his fucking girlfriend busy?

I type back.

I smirk and hit send. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

A reply bounces back immediately.

I narrow my eyes. Conceited prick.

I type.

My phone instantly rings, the name Mr. Masters lighting up the screen.

Shit.

“Hello,” I answer.

“What do you mean you’re not interested?”

“It means what it means. I’m not interested.”

“You enjoyed yourself the other night. I know you did.”

“Not as much as you, it seems.”

He stays silent, and I smirk as I imagine his angry face.

“Don’t play games with me,” he growls.

“I’m not.”

“Is this about Bernadette?”

“Are you deaf, dumb, or just plain stupid?” I snap. “Of course this is about Bernadette.”

“I broke up with her last night.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s not you.”

I bite my bottom lip as I listen.

“Meet with me today, give me another chance. I won’t be so hard on you, I promise.”

I give him the chance to talk me into it. “Why should I?”

“Because you’re all I’ve fucking thought about since Friday night and I’m slipping into a lust-induced stupor here.”

I smile. “On a scale of one to ten, how badly do you want to see me?”

“Are you coming or not?” he snaps, unwilling to play my games.

“Yes, Julian, I will come.”

“Good.” He sighs, relieved. “I’ll… I’ll see you then.”

I hang up and smile. Well, well, well. I do believe I just gained the upper hand.

I sit and stare out the window. I wonder… what the hell does a secretary wear?