Mr. Masters (Mr. 1)

I’m wearing a black strapless evening gown tonight.

I feel nervous—more nervous than ever before—and I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I actually love this dress, I feel like a princess, and this kind of feels like a real date.

I know it’s not. Of course I know it’s not. But, I can let myself forget the reality of the situation for just one night, can’t I?

My timid hand knocks on the door, and Julian opens it in a rush, smiling as he sees me. My breath catches immediately.

He’s wearing a black dinner suit. His hair is styled to perfection, and the way he’s looking at me might set me on fire.

“My beautiful Bree.”

My heart races. "Hello." I smile and walk in. He closes the door behind us, taking my overnight bag from me to carefully place it in on the luggage stand. When he turns back to me, he takes my face in his hand and kisses me softly. "I've been looking forward to this all day long."

I smile against his lips, my hands resting on his hips. “You only had me yesterday, Jules.”

“It wasn’t enough. How could I possibly get enough of you in two hours?”

Oh, man. I’m totally screwed when he’s being sweet.

We smile against each other’s lips and I put my arms around his broad neck. “What are your plans for me tonight?” I ask.

He smiles down at me. “I thought we would go out for dinner, and then maybe enjoy some dancing.”

My eyebrows rise. “Really?”

He smiles at my excited reaction and then pulls me into an embrace, holding me tight. “Really.”

God, he’s beautiful. I close my eyes against as I rest my head against his shoulder.

Stop it. This is nothing more than a façade—a part of his game. Don’t fall for it, whatever you do, Brielle.

He steps back and takes my hand in his, slowly lifting it to his mouth to kiss the back of it. “Where does my girl want to go tonight?” His eyes hold mine.

His girl.

Fuck, he was safer when he was a typical asshole who just wanted to fuck me.

I shrug shyly, overwhelmed by his tender seduction. “I have no idea where to go in London.”

He holds his arm out for me and I link mine through it. “It looks like I’m in charge then.” He smirks.

I giggle and rise up onto my toes to kiss him. “Are you ever not in charge, Mr. Masters?”

“Not if I can help it.”

We walk out of the room to where the elevator is waiting for us.

Not if I can help it.

What does he mean by that? Is that why he doesn’t want to fall in love, because he won’t be in charge anymore?

The lift arrives at the ground floor and we step out hand in hand.

Hmm, that’s a very interesting thing to say, I’m going to come back to it.

Three hours later, and I’m practically melting across the table from him.

We are at Closs Maggiore, an exclusive restaurant in Mayfair, and we’re sitting in the courtyard. The tables are lit by single candles, and fairy lights hang above us. Relaxing music is being piped throughout the entire outdoor space.