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
“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 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 his both 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 toward 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 be 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, its 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.