Mr. Masters (Mr. 1)

Stop it. He’s probably talking about some very important case and I’m just being melodramatic. After fifteen minutes, I make my way back to the table. He’s now sitting in the chair next to mine, and the woman he was talking to at the bar is on the other side of him. The main meals have finally arrived, too.

I pull my chair out, and he smiles over at me as I sit down.

I give him a lopsided smile in return.

“Miss Brielle.” He gestures to me. “This is Anna, a work colleague of mine.”

I smile over at the pretty redhead. She’s around the age of forty and has an incredible body. Her shoulder-length hair is down and full, and she has olive skin that is complimented by her green eyes. She really is stunning. “Hello.” I smile.

“Hello, Miss Brielle.” She turns to Julian. “Is she one of Willows friend’s?” she asks sarcastically.

Julian’s eyebrows raise in surprise before he chuckles nervously. “No, no. She’s just our nanny. She has a love of history and this building, so I wanted to bring her to see it. She’s new to London. All the way from Australia.”

Anna laughs and says something I can’t hear, and the two of them fall into a muffled, whispered conversation.

I drop my head as my blood begins to boil.

Just the nanny.

I pick up my glass and drain it in one mouthful. Who the fucking hell does he think he is?

I push my plate to the side.

“Not hungry?” he asks.

I glare at him. “I just lost my appetite.”

For the next forty minutes, I sit in silence as the rest of the table eats and chatters amongst themselves. He hasn’t said one nice word to me in over an hour and a half, but he and Anna haven’t stopped talking since she arrived. Other members of the table, who obviously feel uncomfortable, are trying to make idle conversation with me because they feel sorry for me.

Why did he bring me? I feel so stupid.

He says something, and Anna bursts out laughing.

The lady opposite me gives me a sad smile.

Fuck this, I’m leaving.

I put my serviette down and grab my bag from underneath the table.

“Where are you going?” he asks quietly.

I can hear my heartbeat ringing in my ears, I’m so angry. “Home.” I stand and walk out of the ballroom and into the foyer, and then through the front doors to the valet parking man.

“Excuse me, can you get me a cab, please?” I ask.

“Of course.”

I stand with my arms folded in front of me as he goes out onto the street, and I just wish that Emerson wasn’t on her date tonight or I would go back to her house and not come back till Monday. If ever.

“What are you doing?” Julian asks, approaching me from behind.

I roll my eyes. “What does it look like?”

“I’ll drive you home.” “Don’t bother.”

A car pulls in and the valet driver—the one who was trying to get me a cab— has to come and take the car to the parking lot. “Back in a minute, Miss,” he calls.

I blow out a breath. “Great.”