Mr Masters (Mr. Book 1)

I finish drying my hair and check myself over in the mirror.

It’s Saturday morning, and we have Will’s soccer game to attend.

I’m wearing black jeans, black ballet flats, and a black singlet with a white linen shirt left open. My hair is down and I’m wearing the smallest amount of natural makeup.

My stomach is alive with nerves. I’ve hardly slept. My mind was racing at a million miles per minute.

I can’t believe I did what I did last night. It was like some erotic movie I had no right to be part of. I can’t believe it was that good. The credit card makes me feel uneasy, but I guess I did spend one-hundred and fifty pounds on my slut-wear yesterday.

I don’t know how I feel about everything, to be honest. I’m going to have to sit on things for a while.

With one last look in the mirror, I leave my room and make my way up to the main house, where I find Willow and Sam eating their breakfast.

“Hi.” I smile.

“Hello,” they both offer, distracted.

“Good Morning, Miss Brielle,” that velvety voice purrs.

“Oh.” I jump. “Hey, I didn’t see you there.”

Mr. Masters is in the kitchen, with his behind resting on the counter and his sexy smile fixed in place. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. My apologies.”

He’s wearing black jeans and a white polo shirt. His dark hair is hanging loosely, highlighting his messy curls. His eyes are piercing, and that jawline could impregnate anything female with one glance. He looks fucking edible.

My stomach swirls with nervous energy. “How was your trip?” I ask, playing along in front of the children.

His eyes hold mine. “Unexpected.”

I smile goofily. Why, I have no idea. He sounds so dreamy when he says the word ‘unexpected’.

Oh, cut it out, you pathetic fool. Unexpected is not a hot word.

“How was your time at home…” he pauses, and a trace of a smile tugs at his lips, “without the man of the house here?”

He’s playing that game, is he?

I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling. “Fine, thanks.” I glance at the children, hoping that they can snap me from my drooling state. Especially with the drool being brought on by their father. “Wasn’t it, kids? We had so much fun together.”

They both nod and continue eating, not at all interested in conversing.

“What time are we going to football this morning?” I ask.

“You don’t need to come, Miss Brielle. I’m well aware that you don’t work weekends. It isn’t expected,” he replies as he sips his coffee.

“I want to watch Will play. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.” Willow smiles around her mouth full of cereal.

Mr. Masters’ eyes hold mine, and if I’m not mistaken, they have a new intensity to them today. Something is different with him this morning. He’s playing with me. It’s like he’s silently daring me to flirt with him, just so he can reprimand me if I do.

I’m screwed if I do and screwed if I don’t.

Who am I kidding? Any screwing with him would be good screwing.

Damn him and his all-confusing sexiness.

I raise an eyebrow at him. “I would like to come please.”

“Very well, as you wish. We leave in half an hour,” he tells me calmly.

“Okay, call me when we are leaving.” I hurry back to my room so I can try to get control of these hormones.

I need to calm my farm.

I sit in a fold-up chair at soccer, with the morning sunlight on my face and my boss sitting beside me.

Julian Masters.

Also known as Hugh Hefner.

Big dick. Check. Arrogant asshole. Check. Off the scale fucking hornbag. Double check.

These fucking soccer MILFs are pissing me off. One by one, they all slide up next to him and make small talk. He’s always polite, and he flirts with ease as they hang off his every word.

Does he even realize that he does it?

“Oh, I heard you won your tennis semi the other night,” he says.

The attractive woman with the dark hair beams with pride. “Yes, it was a great victory.” She fakes a laugh. “We still need to get that game in, Julian.”

“I know, as soon as time permits. We shall.” He smiles. “I’m looking forward to it, although I hope you’re prepared to suffer a loss.”

She throws her head back and laughs. “Oh, Julian, you kill me.”

I fold my arms and roll my eyes. I’m right here, you know. For fuck’s sake, he’s an idiot.

“Call me.” She smiles as she walks off.

We both watch her walk away, and his eyes eventually return to mine.

“I’m looking forward to it,” I mimic with a roll of my eyes.

“Why the sarcasm?” he teases. “I look forward to spending time with you, too, Miss Brielle. Don’t feel left out.”

“Oh, please,” I mutter. “I’m not in line with these… these… desperate old hags.”

His eyes dance with delight, and I narrow mine. Damn my jealous streak is showing now.

I fold my arms in front of me. This fatal attraction is beginning to piss me off. I don’t need this shit. Who knew that football could be the home to such pickup tricks?

The blonde from last week walks up next. “Julian, where have you been hiding, darling? I’ve been searching all over.

Oh God, it gets worse. I keep a straight face as I watch the game in front of me. When it eventually comes to an end, the crowd claps at the result. I have no idea of the score. I was way too distracted by Hugh Hefner here. I shake my head as I get a grip of myself.

Just act calm. This shouldn’t bother you, Brielle, I remind myself.

It’s casual.

Cas. u. al.

It’s no bother to me if these women want him. I’m just using him for sex, anyway.

Julian smiles warmly as the blonde kisses both his cheeks. “How are you?”

Ugh, stop being so fucking cute or I will hurt you.

“I wanted to talk to you.” She smiles.

“About?”

She glances at me, and then hands me a twenty-pound note.

I look at it, confused.

“Can you go to the cafeteria and grab me a coffee, darling? Just cream. No sugar.”

What the hell? Who does she think she is?

I shove the money back into her hand. ‘No. I’m not your coffee girl, and please don’t call me darling.’ I stand and glare at Julian. ‘What I am going to do is leave so I don’t have to listen to you embarrass yourself any more,’ I snap.

Her mouth falls open, and Julian’s lips twist as he tries to hide his smile. I storm off towards the dressing sheds. Honestly, these women are ferocious.

Of all the nerve! Get her coffee. Have you ever?

I storm around the corner and see four girls from an opposing team surrounding Willow. It’s the same four who were around her last week when she seemed uncomfortable.

I walk up behind them.

“You’re pathetic,” I hear the blonde sneer at Willow.

Willow goes to brush past them, but the girl grabs her arm.

“I would hate to be you. Your poor family must be so ashamed.”

My heart drops.

Oh no…

“Your mother probably fucking killed herself to get away from you,” the blonde hisses, and the other girls all laugh cruelly. “Even death would be better than living with you.”

Willows’ face drops.

Something feral snaps inside of me—something that isn’t supposed to snap with sixteen-year-old girls on the receiving end of it.

I rush forward. “What the fuck did you just say?” I growl.

Their faces fall, paling instantly.

Willow shakes her head and grabs my arm. “Leave it, Brell.”

“No. I will not leave it,” I snap as I pull out of her grip. I point to the blonde. “You listen here and you listen good. If you ever come near Willow again, if you even dare look her way, I will beat down your door, lady. And you better watch out because it won’t be fucking pretty. Do you understand me?” I growl.

The girls all step back, shaken and afraid.

“Not so tough now, huh?” I look them up and down in disgust. “How dare you spew hate like that? You’re pathetic.”

I grab Willow’s hand and pull her away as the girls sprint to the sheds.

She’s visibly upset with tears in her eyes, and I pull her around the corner to give us some privacy.

‘What’s going on, pumpkin?’ I ask as I brush the hair back from her forehead.

She shakes her head and wipes her eyes angrily.

“Do they pick on you all the time?” I whisper.

She nods.

My anger hits an all-time high. This is why the poor girl is so angry. She’s hurting.

I fix her hair. “Don’t worry about them, they’re all just spoilt little bitches like their desperate mothers are.”

She looks down at the ground.

“Will,” I whisper as I take her hands. “Look at me, please.”

She drags her eyes up to meet mine.

“Promise me that you will talk to me about this later. I want to know what’s going on so I can go around and kick their fake-tanned little asses.”

She smiles sadly, and then she looks up at me. “You have a fake tan.”

I giggle. “I know, it’s ugly isn’t it?”

She offers me a lopsided smile.

I wrap my arms around her and hold her in an embrace, grateful that she lets me.

She stays in my arms and it nearly brings me to tears because I can feel how much she needs me. God, this poor little girl. And she has no one to talk to because her father has his head up his ass. I link my arm through hers. “Come on, let’s go and get your bag from the changing room. Then we can get the hell out of this place.”

She nods, and we make our way to retrieve her things.

Fifteen minutes later, we find our way back to Julian and Samuel, only to see that the blonde is still with him. Only this time, the blonde little bully is standing behind her.

I can tell by Mr. Masters’ stance that he is angry.

“Go back to the car and wait for me, Will,” I say.

She stops, as if petrified.

“Will,” I say calmly. “Go to the car… now.”

Willow heads off to the car, and I approach the four of them.

“Miss Brielle,” Julian snaps. “Where is Willow?”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because she is in big trouble.”

The woman smiles a smug smile.

“Go to the car, Sammy,” I say.

He frowns.

“Now,” I snap. He runs off into the distance. I glare at the blonde little bitch. “Why, exactly, is Willow in trouble?”

“She’s been picking on her teammates.” Julian growls. “She’s grounded indefinitely.”

“No, she hasn’t. That’s a blatant lie and false accusation.” I narrow my eyes. “The bullying is the other way around.”

“Miss Brielle, I demand you go and get Willow, bring her to me, and I will make her apologize this minute.” His fury is palpable.

Something snaps again, and I step forward

“I will do nothing of the sort.” I point to the mother. “But I’ll tell you what I will do. If your evil daughter comes near Willow again, I will have her charged by the police for harassment and assault.”

The mother gasps, and the other parents all stop to listen to what’s going on.

“Why, that’s ridiculous,” she cries.

I turn to the blonde bully. “Go near Willow again, sweetie, I dare you.” I sneer.

Her eyes widen in fear.

“Miss Brielle!” Mr. Masters snaps.

“Who the hell is this?” the mother asks snootily.

“I’m your worst nightmare. Now get a leash on your girl before I involve the police.”

She puts her arm around her daughter. “Come on, dear, let’s go home. It’s been a traumatic day. This woman is a hooligan.” She glares at me and storms off.

I turn to Mr. Masters. “Are you kidding me?”

“Are you kidding me?” he growls.

“How dare you!” I snap, and I storm my way back to the car.

“How dare I?” he calls as he follows me. “How dare you?”

“Oh. I dare, all right,” I shout as I arrive at the car.

Willow and Sammy are standing wide-eyed at the car, waiting for it to be unlocked. I don’t think they’ve ever seen someone as angry as I am at this moment.

Mr. Masters drops the chairs on the ground and pops the trunk of his car, and the kids dive into the back seat to escape the fury. I get in the front and slam the door hard.

He opens my door. “Don’t slam my car door!” he yells.

I open it and slam it again… harder.

The kids are sitting frozen in the back, afraid to speak or move in case we turn on them.

Their father gets in his precious car and revs the engine before he pulls out in a rush.

Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

I have to say it.

“How dare you?” I cry out.

“How dare I what?” His angry eyes flicker between the road and me.

“How dare you blame Willow for that horrible piece of work.” I shake my head. “You need to apologize to her this very minute.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Unfucking believable. You have the emotional intelligence of a fish. It’s blatantly obvious that those girls were and have been picking on your daughter for a while, but you’re far too busy chatting up their mothers to fucking notice.”

“What?” he cries with incredulity.

“You heard me,” I shout back.

“Do not raise your voice at me, and do not curse in front of my children.”

“Your children are not robots. Raised voices are perfectly normal everyday occurrences in families. Stop being so damn safe all the time.”

“I would rather be safe than a complete lunatic.”

I narrow my eyes. “Listen, you big baboon, I’m not afraid of your little high society sluts, and will not tolerate them bullying Willow under any circumstance. I don’t care how much money they have.”

He glares at me.

“And I am not about to buy their fucking coffee! How dare you not pull her into line about that! Do I look like a servant?”

He clenches his jaw as he drives. “Unlike you, I don’t like causing a scene.”

“Because you’re a wimp!” I yell. “Too scared of what everyone will think to defend your own daughter or your nanny.”

He glares at the road and grips the steering wheel with white-knuckle force.

The whole sky feels like it’s a shade of red. I can’t remember ever being this angry.

Fifteen silent minutes later, we arrive home.

I get out of the car. “Go and get changed, kids. We’re going out,” I announce.

The kids waste no time and quickly take off in the direction of the house.

Mr. Masters gets out of the car and slams the door. “I hope you’re happy with the dramatics you have caused.” He brushes past me.

“Do you know what that bully said?” I call. “I heard her. I heard her say it with my own ears.”

He turns to face me.

My eyes fill with tears at the sheer memory of it. Poor Willow. “She said that Willow’s mum probably killed herself just to get away from her. Do you have any idea what it would be like to hear that being said to you?”

He scowls, clearly torn between disbelief and hurt.

“You’re her father, for fuck’s sake.”

His face falls.

“You were going to ground her without a second thought,” I whisper in disgust.

His haunted eyes hold mine as he processes what has happened.

“They are picking on her, and you didn’t even bother to ask for her side of the story. You just believed them without question. What kind of a father does that to his daughter?”

He drops his head in shame.

The kids come bounding back to the car, all changed and ready to go.

“Get in the car, kids. We’re going to McDonald’s.” I sigh.

Mr. Masters looks between Willow and me. “Can I come?” he asks softly.

I shake my head. “You’re not invited.”

The kids get in the car and we drive away. I watch him disappear in the rearview mirror, standing still, watching us leave without him.

Mr. Masters disappointed me today.

I don’t think I like him anymore.

I wait on the porch for my Uber driver to pick me up. It’s 8:00 p.m. on Saturday night, and I’m going out with Emerson. I’m wearing a pale pink dress and I have my cardigan slung over my folded arms.

I haven’t spoken to Mr. Masters since our fight at football this morning, but the kids have spent the afternoon laying on my bed, watching movies.

It seems they’re both giving him the silent treatment as well. Good.

The door opens and Mr. Masters comes out to stand beside me. He puts his hands into his pockets and the two of us stare forward, out into the darkness.

“I didn’t know,” he says quietly.

I inhale sharply, but I don’t answer.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” I tell him dryly.

We stay silent for a little while longer.

“When will you be back?” he asks quietly.

“Tomorrow afternoon for Willow’s dinner party.”

He nods and rolls his lips, unsure whether to speak or walk away.

We stand in silence, once again, and I just want him to go back inside the house. I honestly have nothing to say to him.

“I could have driven you.”

“No, thank you,” I whisper. “I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

The headlights appear at the end of the driveway, and I watch as the car pulls up to the front of the house.

“Goodbye, Mr. Masters,” I say flatly.

He stays silent.

I get into the car and look at him through the car window. He’s unmoving, still, with both of his hands in his pockets as he watches the car drive me away.

He looks so lost.

I roll my eyes, because he should.

He is.

Julian

“Brelly’s home!” Samuel yells from his position at the window.

I pretend to continue reading my book on the sofa, but no matter how many times I read a line on the page, I only see the words Brielle repeated to me: your mother killed herself to get away from you.

I’m failing miserably at this parenting thing, and I feel as though the weight of the world sits heavily on my shoulders. Willow hasn’t uttered a single word to me since Brielle left last night.

Willow comes bounding down the stairs and rushes out the front door with Samuel to meet their nanny.

I clench my jaw and turn the page.

I hate that they prefer her company to mine when she’s only been here for all of ten days. I know that says a lot about me.

My fingers flick the page in annoyance. I can hear all three of them coming up the stairs onto the landing.

“Oops, have you got it?” Brielle laughs.

I hear the rustling of plastic bags, and then I hear something bang.

“Ouch, watch it,” Willow snaps.

“Oh, that was close to your toe.” Brielle giggles.

“I know, just missed it,” Samuel answers in his enthusiastic voice.

“Be careful, will you? I don’t want to have to take you to A&E,” Brielle tells them.

The three of them laugh, and I can’t help but roll my eyes as I listen.

They come through the door, ladened with shopping bags.

I sit up. “What on Earth?”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Masters.” Brielle smiles warmly as she struggles. “How is the man of the house today?”

I raise an eyebrow, surprised that she’s talking to me. I rise and take the shopping bags from her hands, taking them through to put them on the kitchen counter. ‘I’m fine. And you?’ I ask.

“Happy now that I’m home for Will’s dinner party.” She smiles. “I’m so excited. Are we ready to cook, pumpkin?”

Willow smiles and nods. “Yep.”

I place my hands on my hips as I watch her and Willow unpack the shopping bags. Who is this woman and what has she done with my grouchy daughter?

“So, what’s been going on around here, Mr. Masters?” she asks.

I shrug. “I’m surprised you’re talking to me, to be honest,” I admit.

Her eyes find mine. “Yesterday was yesterday, and we don’t hold grudges in this house, do we?”

“No. Because you did run him over first,” Samuel points out.

Brielle points at Samuel. “That’s right. I did.”

I’m silently grateful that she hasn’t come back prepared to launch World War III.

“Do you want me to do anything?” I ask.

“Hmm.” She looks around. “I’ll get you and Sammy to set the table a little later, but nothing at the moment.”

“Okay.” I look around, wondering what to do.

“Go back to your book and relax.” She smiles.

I frown. She is the most confusing woman on the planet. Is she going to spike my food with arsenic?

I pick my book back up and sit back on the lounge.

I sit and listen to her help my daughter over the course of the next three hours. She’s teaching her to make fresh pasta as Sammy watches on from his place on the kitchen counter. Brielle is carefree, funny, and the children dote on her.

They are laughing freely, and I have to stop myself from smiling.

I thought I was just pretending to read before, but that was nothing, because now I’m not even focusing on the words on the page.

All I can hear is her voice, praising and directing my children, laughing and joking with them, teaching them little life lessons as she does.

If only she knew she was tempting me to think about things I shouldn’t be thinking.

“Mr. Masters?” she calls.

I glance up, hoping she can’t read my mind.

“Yes, Brielle.”

She smiles warmly. “Can you and Sammy go outside and pick some fresh flowers for the table, please?”

“What for?”

“Because this is a dinner party and we want everything to be perfect.” I roll my eyes, thinking this is extreme. “Very well.” I get up from the lounge, and with Samuel in tow, go out into the garden.

The doorbell chimes at exactly 6:00 p.m. and I answer it. My mother and father greet me happily.

“Julian, this is so exciting.” Mother smiles. “Willow is learning how to cook. We’re so thrilled to be invited.” She kisses my cheek and my father shakes my hand. “Yes, yes, I know. Although this is all Miss Brielle’s idea,” I tell them dryly.

“Grandma and Grandpa!” Samuel squeals as he runs to jump into my father’s arms. “Hello, my boy.” He laughs heartily.

Willow comes down the stairs, smiling, and it’s the first genuine smile I have seen on her in a long time. She kisses my parents on the cheek and my father’s eyes dance with delight. “Where is this new nanny?”

“She’s just getting ready,” I answer.

I look around the house. It’s hard to believe it’s actually mine. The place is spotless with the smell of beautiful Italian food filling the space. The table is set and fit for a king, with fresh flowers and the best cutlery out on display. “Willow,” my mother gasps. “It looks so beautiful.”

Willow looks around proudly. “It was all Brelly.”

“Nonsense.” Miss Brielle smiles as she walks into the room.

My face falls at the sight of her. She’s wearing a red wrap around dress with her hair down and full. She may just be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

“Miss Brielle.” I gesture to my parents. “This is my mother, Frances, and my father, Joseph.”

“Hello.” She smiles warmly as she kisses them both on the cheek.

My father’s eyes meet mine in a ‘holy shit, son, this woman is hot’ way, and I smirk.

I know, Dad, you don’t have to remind me.

“Come in, come in, please.” She gestures to the dining area. “Willow has made us the most amazing feast.”

“Have you, Willow?” My mother gasps again. “This is so exciting.”

‘Would you like a glass of wine?’ Brielle smiles. ‘I bought some non-alcoholic wine for you, too, Will.’

Willow’s eyes widen with excitement.

I fill everyone’s glasses, and my mother holds her glass up for a toast. “To Willow’s first dinner party.”

Willow beams with happiness, and I unexpectedly get choked up. “To Willow’s first dinner party,” I repeat.

Over the next four hours, I watch on as Brielle adds my father to her fan club. The food has been amazing, the laughter has flowed freely, and I have to admit, I have had a truly fantastic night.

“So, what do you do back home in Australia?” my father asks.

Brielle smiles and glances at me.

“She’s an engineer,” I tell them proudly.

“What?” my mother squeals. “Really? I had no idea.”

Brielle nods and laughs. “You all seem so shocked when you find that out about me.”

“What do you do exactly?” my father asks.

“I design machines, but mostly I work on creating prosthetic limbs.”

“Prosthetic limbs?” I frown.

“Yeah, and some hearing aids, too. I don’t actually design them, more fit them to the client’s individual needs. I mostly work in the health sector. However, I have designed a few elevators.”

I try to process what she’s telling me.

“Shall we make our guests a coffee, Will?” Miss Brielle asks, changing the subject.

Willow frowns in question.

“It is customary to offer your guests a coffee or tea to wind down.”

“Oh.”

“That’s what the chocolates in the fridge are for.” She smiles as she grabs Willow’s hand over the table. “Let’s get that sorted, shall we?”

They stand and go to the kitchen. Brielle whispers something to my daughter, and Willow smiles warmly. The sight of it makes my heart constrict. I knew Brielle was perfect on the outside. God knows, every man on the planet knows she’s fucking perfect on the outside.

But today, she’s a new kind of beautiful to me. The kind of beautiful that makes me want to rush closer and kiss her. The kind of beautiful that makes me want to hold her in my arms.

My cock aches at the memory of having her last night. She was tight, toned, and as loving as she is in everyday life. I want to be alone with her again… right now.

But that’s the problem: I will want her to leave soon, too, and then she would.

For the first time since their mother died, my children are happy.

I can’t jeopardize this with my carnal desires. Not now, not ever.

I have to put my children before myself, and I have to keep away from Miss Brielle.

My eyes linger on the beautiful woman wearing the red dress standing in my kitchen, and my heart constricts at the thought of never having her again.

She glances up, and our eyes linger on each other’s faces a moment too long.

I drop my eyes and blow out a defeated breath.

If only I were normal.