Mr. Masters (Mr. 1)

“No problem, sir. Make yourself comfortable and they will be right up.”

I take the lift to the exclusive penthouse. Once there I make myself a scotch

and stare out the smoke-glass window overlooking London.

I hear the door click behind me and I turn toward the sound.

Holly and Belinda stand before me smiling.

Belinda has long, blonde hair, while Hannah is a brunette. There’s no denying they’re both young and beautiful.

“Hello, Mr Smith,” they say in unison

I sip my scotch as my eyes drink them in.

“Where would you like us, sir?”

I unbuckle my belt. “On your knees.”

Chapter One

Brielle

Customs is ridiculously slow, and a man has been pulled into the office up ahead. It all looks very suspicious from my position at the back of the line. “What do you think he did?” I whisper as I crane my neck to spy the commotion up ahead.

“I don’t know, something stupid, probably,” Emerson replies. We shuffle toward the desk as the line moves a little quicker.

We’ve just arrived in London to begin our year-long working holiday. I’m going to work for a judge as a nanny, while Emerson, my best friend, is working for an art auctioneer. I’m terrified, yet excited.

“I wish we had come a week earlier so we could have spent some time together,” Emerson says.

“Yeah, I know, but she needed me to start this week because she’s going away next week. I need to learn the kids routine.”

“Who leaves their kids alone for three days with a complete stranger?” Em frowns in disgust.

I shrug. “My new boss, apparently.”

“Well, at least I can come and stay with you next week. That’s a bonus.”

My position is residential, so my accommodation is secure. However, poor Emerson will be living with two strangers. She’s freaking out over it.

“Yeah, but I’m sneaking you in,” I say. “I don’t want it to look like we’re partying or anything.”

I look around the airport. It’s busy, bustling, and I already feel so alive. Emerson and I are more than just young travellers.

Emerson is trying to find her purpose and I’m running from a destructive past, one that involves me being in love with an adultering prick.

I loved him. He just didn’t love me. Not enough, anyway.

If he had, he would have kept it in his pants, and I wouldn’t be at Heathrow Airport feeling like I’m about to throw up.

I look down at myself and smooth the wrinkles from my dress. “She’s picking me up. Do I look okay?”

Emerson looks me up and down, smiling broadly. “You look exactly how a twenty-five-year-old nanny from Australia should.”

I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling stupidly. That was a good answer.

“So, what’s your bosses name?” she asks.