Mr. Masters (Mr. 1) - Page 197

“What’s going on out there?” Julian calls.

“Nothing,” Willow tells him calmly.

Something is definitely going on out there. I put my hand on Julian’s shoulder as I walk past him.

“Pour us a wine, babe. I’ll get the kids sorted.” That’s code for ‘please stay here while I sort out the wild animals we call pets’.

I walk into the living room to find Willow standing on the couch trying to reattach the drapes which Maverick has ripped from the window. I walk over to inspect them to see that they have actually torn at the top.

Julian comes in and frowns when he sees the destruction. “This bloody cat has been home for five minutes,” he cries. “How can he ruin the drapes in five minutes flat?”

“He’s just a baby,” I say.

“Oh… and he doesn’t know the rules yet,” Julian mimics with an eye roll before storming away and calling over his shoulder. “That cat is going back to the shelter if it doesn’t learn the damn rules soon.”

I giggle as I watch him disappear. My Mr. Cranky Pants is back.

Julian Masters

Requests the company of

Bree Johnston

Occasion: Situation inspection

Date: Thursday night

Time: 6pm

Place: Room 612: Rosewood London

Dress code: Bondage

I smile as I read the invitation that’s sitting my email. He really is set on this damn bondage thing, isn’t he? Maybe I should just go all out and buy some whips. He already slaps my behind when he’s getting into it anyway. Not that I really feel it.

He was mortified in Rome when he saw his red handprint on my behind while we were showering, post-sex. He must have apologised at least ten times.

My phone rings and I smile. Speak of the devil. The name Mr. Masters lights up my screen.

“Hello, Mr. Masters.”

“How is my naughty nanny today?” he purrs.

“She’s feeling especially naughty.”

“And why is that?”

“I’m wishing my man was here with me.”

“I’m missing you, too,” he whispers.

Who is this man, and what has he done with the emotionally disabled Mr. Masters I met six weeks ago?

“I’m just about to leave work. Are you on your way yet?” he asks.

“Not yet. I’m about an hour away.”

“Okay. Drive safely.”

Tags: T.L. Swan Mr. Romance
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