Mr Masters (Mr. Book 1)

My rage rings in my ears.

She’s here with someone…

On a date?

His hand is on the small of her back, and when he says something she smiles up at him. Bree’s wearing a little black dress that hugs her every curve.

She looks edible.

I snap my eyes away angrily. No wonder she was so fucking keen to get out of the house.

My blood begins to boil.

“What’s wrong with you, Masters?” Seb frowns. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Adrenaline starts to pump through me and an unfamiliar burn of jealousy starts to take over. “Nothing.” I glare at Brielle across the room, and then I turn my back to her.

“I’m going to bid on the Panton,” Seb says as he flicks through the program. “I’ve got another two of his in the beach house.”

‘How much are you going to pay?’ Spencer asks as he reads through the listings.

“I’ll check what I paid for the last ones first.” He pulls out his phone and begins to trawl through his emails.

I clench my jaw to stop myself from turning back to look at her. “Brielle’s here,” I tell them quietly.

“Who?” Seb frowns.

“My nanny.”

“Jesus.” He smiles. “Where?”

“Across the room. The one in the black dress. Long, dark hair.”

Seb searches the room and then releases a low whistle. “Fuck me, she’s gorgeous.”

“Who’s gorgeous?” Spencer asks, finally joining in the conversation.

“Masters’ nanny is here.”

“Where?”

“Black dress, long hair. The brunette, remember her from golf?”

He looks across the room, too. “Holy fuck, yeah she’s hot.”

“What’s she doing?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“She’s talking to a guy, but she keeps looking over,” Seb whispers.

I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath as I try to calm my beating heart. It doesn’t matter that she’s here with another guy. I don’t give a damn, as long as she gives me what I want.

I drain my glass of scotch, and my heart pounds furiously.

Spencer grins smugly. “Look at you, Masters. Are you fucking jealous?”

“Don’t be stupid,” I snap.

“You are. You’re sweating.” He laughs and elbows Seb. “Masters has done his nuts.”

“I have not,” I bark.

“Julian, can I speak to you for a moment, please?” Bree asks, grabbing my elbow from behind.

I turn to her and lose control. “You’re on a fucking date?” I growl.

Bree’s eyes widen, and they flicker to my two friends, filling with embarrassment.

Spencer smirks and sticks his hand out to shake hers. “I’m Spencer.”

“I’m Sebastian,” Seb tells her. They stand smiling as they watch me, clearly enjoying the show.

“I-I’m Brielle.” She smiles meekly.

“We know exactly who you are,” Seb says arrogantly.

Bree frowns at him and turns her attention back to me. “Can I speak to you outside? Now… please?”

‘You’re on a date. I can’t fucking believe you,’ I grind out.

She purses her lips. “You’re not getting needy, are you, Julian?” She puts her hand on her hip. “There is nothing more unattractive than a needy man.”

I narrow my eyes. The bitch, throwing my own words back in my face.

The boys chuckle and Spencer holds his hand in the air. Seb instantly high-fives it. “Boom.” Spencer smiles. “Take that, Masters.”

“Fuck off,” I snap and storm towards the door.

“What the hell are you doing?” she whispers angrily as we burst through the doors, out onto the courtyard.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m out having fun. What does it look like?”

“You’re on a date? I can’t believe you.”

“You told me I was being too needy.”

I put my hands on my hips angrily, my ears burning with rage. “I thought we had something.”

“So did I.”

“Then what are you doing?” I whisper angrily.

“Trying to get over you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you don’t want what I want,” she snaps.

“What is that?”

“A friendship.”

“We’re fucking. Of course we have a friendship. Have you gone mad?” I swear, I’m about to lose my shit.

“I want you to talk to me.”

“I am talking to you.” I growl as I run my hand through my hair, completely exasperated.

“Why are you acting like this, Julian?” she whispers.

“Because I can’t stand the thought of someone else touching you.”

“Why?”

“Because you belong to fucking me,” I admit, losing control.

She raises a brow and smiles softly, all while I glare at her and struggle to catch my breath.

I can’t believe I just said that.

We stand staring at each other – me with my hands on my hips, panting heavy breaths, her looking relaxed and serene.

“Everything okay out here?” my stupid friend interrupts.

“Fuck off, Spence,” I shout without looking his way.

“Okaaaay then.” He turns and walks back inside.

“What’s happening between us, Julian?” Bree asks.

I stare at her, helpless.

“Don’t tell me that you don’t have feelings for me, because I know you do.”

I scowl, confusion and pain written all over my face. “You don’t know shit.”

“Then what is this?” She gestures to me. “Why are you acting like this if you don’t give a fuck?”

I clench my jaw.

“I know you care for me, Julian. Save us some time and just admit it.”

I drop my eyes to the floor.

“You can either man up and take me dancing now, or you can go and be with your friends for the rest of the night, and I’ll go back to dance with Thomas.” She slides her hand underneath my suit coat and around to my behind.

“Don’t threaten me, Bree. You won’t fucking like me when I’m angry.”

“I like you however you come.” She smiles sexily.

“Witch.”

She rises up onto her toes. “Do you want to know a secret?”

“What?” I say as I kiss her quickly. I’m still mad.

“I like you, too.”

I bite back my smirk. “Let’s go home.”

“Nope.” Her tongue sweeps over my lips, and my cock twitches in appreciation. “Let’s go out. I want to dance with my man.”

An unexpected thrill runs through me at her calling me her man, and I lick my bottom lip, my eyes holding hers. “Then let’s go out.”

We walk out of the art gallery and text our friends to let them know we are leaving.

I open the door of my car and she glides in, leaving me to run around to the driver side and get in beside her.

She puts her hand on my cock as I start the engine, and I inhale sharply, trying to reverse out of the car park.

The adrenaline is still pumping through my body.

“Julian.”

I glance over at her.

“Drive it like you stole it.”

I drop the clutch, hitting high speed in first gear, and I glance over to her. “Then, I’m going to fuck you like I hate you.”

She laughs a husky laugh, and for the first time in a long time… I feel alive.

After a hot and heavy make-out session in my car, we stumble into a bar half an hour later. It’s small, out of the way, and there’s a lady singing a Lady Gaga tribute song, putting on a whole show. Bree walks to the bar and leans over it, resting on her elbows.

“What will it be?” the barman asks.

She smiles mischievously and looks up at the drinks board. “We’ll have four tequilas and four margaritas, please.”

I frown over at her but all I see are her eyes dancing with delight. “Let’s get fucked up.”

“Oh no,” croaks a scratchy voice. “Jules.”

Huh? My eyelashes flutter as I try to open my heavy eyelids.

The room begins to spin, and nausea rolls my stomach. “What the fuck?” I whisper. My voice is hoarse and barely there.

I look around to find we are on the living room floor. Bree looks over at me and giggles. I frown and put my head back down on the carpet with a thud. “Oh… my God. What the hell happened?”

She gets up slowly, resting onto her elbows.

Just the sight of her makes me smile. “Look at you,” I say.

She looks down at herself, and then back over to me. “Oh no.”

She’s completely naked and has my tie tied around her head like a sweatband. Her hair is wild and loose. I drag myself up to a seated position, too, and she bursts out laughing. Something hangs in front of my eyes and I bat it away. “What’s that?”

Bree laughs loudly as she looks over at me. I glance down at myself. I’m wearing one sock and I have her gold beads tied around my head like a sweatband.

I lick my sandpaper lips. “My mouth’s so dry,” I groan.

I drag myself up to get two glasses of water, returning to the living room as quickly as I can. I pass her her drink, and it’s then that I notice the room is destroyed. The sofa is pushed against the walls and there are crisps scattered all over the carpet. A bottle of scotch is spilt all over the coffee table. I pinch the bridge of my nose. ‘This is like that fucking Hangover movie.’

Brielle downs her glass of water in one go before she stands and moves to stand beside me. She kisses me as she smiles against my lips. “I had a good night.” She pauses and then narrows her eyes. “I think.”

I frown as I get a vision of us dirty dancing to the song “Poker Face.” Where was that?

She picks up her phone from the coffee table and snaps a selfie of the two of us just as I hit the beads tied around my head out of the way.

She laughs again.

“I’ve got to shower before I die.” I grab Bree’s hand and drag her up the stairs, into my bathroom. We stand next to each other and stare at our dishevelled reflections in the mirror.

“Oh, man.” Bree frowns. “What the hell happened and where are the kids?”

“At my mother’s.”

I turn the shower on and untie the gold beads from my head. “I’ve got to go get them.” My eyes widen as horror dawns. “Where’s my car?”

She puts her hands over her mouth and laughs out loud.

“Oh, that was a great idea, Einstein. Let’s get fucked up.” I roll my eyes.

I stand under the water and Brielle gags over the sink. “I think I’m going to die,” she grumbles.

“Serves you right, you fucking maniac.”

She climbs under the water with me, and we wrap our arms around each other. I kiss the top of her head as the hot water runs over us. “Did we have sex?”

“I’m on the pill, so it’s okay if we did.” She kisses my chest.

We hold each other for a long time and I smile to myself as the memories filter back to me. I don’t remember the last time I had fun like that.

Bree kisses my chest and looks up at me. “So… you’re going to be my boyfriend now?”

I frown down at her. “What?”

“Don’t.” She kisses my lips. “Don’t take it back.”

“I’m not any good at boyfriend stuff.” I sigh sadly.

She kisses my chest again. “I know this must be hard for you after losing your wife. I know why you don’t let anyone close. You’re such a good husband to grieve so deeply for her.”

What?

I step back from her as my blood runs cold. My eyes hold hers as the hot water runs over my head and down my face.

Time seems to stand still. “I’m a good husband?” I ask. “You think I’m a good husband?” She nods.

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.” I sneer.

She pales, but doesn’t speak.

“My wife died on the day I asked her for a divorce.”

Bree’s face falls and her eyes search mine. “How? How did she die?”

“She killed herself.”