I sip my champagne, wishing I could drain the whole bottle.
The entrees come out, but he still doesn’t return to the table. He and the woman are the only two standing by the bar now, and it’s apparent that he’s avoiding sitting down beside me.
Okay, now I’m getting pissed.
I roll my lips and push my chair out. I’m going to the bathroom.
I make my way out to the bathroom and sit in the cubicle for a while. Why would he bring me to a dinner and not even make an effort to sit with me? I know he doesn’t want anyone to know who I am, but would he really treat a friend like this if he took her out? I don’t think so.
My heart is hammering in angry beats.
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.”
“Excuse me, can you get my car, please?” Julian asks the other attendant.
“Of course, sir.”
He stands next to me, silent.
“Go back inside, Mr. Masters.” I sigh.
“Why are you pissed?”
I raise my eyebrows in disgust. “If you don’t know, I’m not telling you.”
He stays silent, unsure what to say or understand just how angry I am. His car arrives and he opens my door. I glance around. It’s either stay here in the cold or get a lift with him. Fuck it, I just want to get home. I climb in and he shuts the door behind me.
He pulls out into the traffic. I stare through the windscreen, watching as heavy raindrops begin to fall and the automatic wipers come on.
“I didn’t want anyone to know that we were together.” He sighs.
“Well, you won’t need to worry about hiding me anymore.”
He glances over. “Why?”
“Because I have too much self-respect,” I snap.
“Why are you carrying on?”
“What the fuck?” I yell. “You take me to a dinner and spend two hours chatting up another woman, and then you proceed to tell her that I’m just the nanny.”
He glares at me.
“That suits me just fine, Judge Masters.” I sneer.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that tonight, while you were playing judges with Anna, I was judging you. And I didn’t like what I fucking saw.”
“Is that so?”
I turn to him, outraged at his behavior. “I don’t know how you usually treat women, Julian, but let me tell you this… you will never again get the fucking chance to make me feel like you did tonight. ”
“How did I make you feel?” He growls. “Like a cheap slut you are taking home to fuck when the night is over.”
His jaw clenches and he grips the steering wheel tightly, not saying a single word. We ride the rest of the way in silence. He pulls into the driveway and parks the car under the carport. I get out, slam the door, and march up to the front door, fumbling with my keys.
He moves in front of me, opens the front door with his key, and pushes it open. I barge past him and storm through the house.
“Stop!” he calls after me.
I turn toward him sharply. “I have never been so furious. You arrogant prick, to think that I will put up with that kind of treatment.” I shake my head. “Who do you think you are?”
He narrows his eyes. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. This isn’t a relationship.”
I smirk, speechless, offering nothing but of a huff in response. I don’t bother replying.
“Bree,” he says softly, grabbing my arm.
I hit his arm away. “I don’t want a relationship with you!” I cry. “The mere thought of sleeping with such an arrogant pig turns my stomach now. Don’t you dare call me that again. My name is Miss Brielle to you, and I am just the nanny. Stay the hell away!”
He glares at me. “You’re taking that out of context and carrying on for no reason.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
I turn and walk to my room, slamming the door behind me. I’m so mad that tears begin to well in my eyes.
I can’t believe he’s even justifying treating me like that. He didn’t say one word to me for two hours while he chatted up another woman, for Christ’s sake.
I hear the front door slam and then his car start. I rush to the window and see him driving off like a madman on the loose.
He’s gone back out.
I flop onto the bed and swipe the angry tears away from my eyes.
His words ring through my head.
This isn’t a relationship.
No shit, Sherlock. This isn’t a relationship, this is a train wreck.
An hour has passed, and I’m still on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Just how did I get myself into this situation? What did I honestly think was going to come of going out with Julian Masters?
When we were at the hotel and it was just the two of us, things were safe. It was controlled.
It didn’t hurt.
I take out my phone and flick through Instagram and Facebook to try and take my mind off how shitty I’m feeling. Nothing works.
I throw my phone down in disgust. Ugh. I hate Facebook. It should be called Fakebook the way every idiot in the world posts pictures and shows off how good their lives are. All their gorgeous, caring boyfriends and husbands, babies, kids, they all seem to have everything I don’t. You never see anyone posting pictures saying ‘Oh, I went out with my older boss tonight, who, by the way, treated me like I was a stupid slut and embarrassed the hell out of me’ do you? I roll my eyes
Fake fuckers.
My phone beeps and I scramble to read the message from my mum.
Hi, Brell,
How’s everything?
We’re missing you.
I read it and tears fill my eyes. Before I even think about it, I’m dialing her number. She answers on the first ring.
“Hello, my beautiful Brell.”
“Hi, Mum.” The sound of her loving voice gets to me, and I instantly choke up.
“You okay, darling?”
I close my eyes. How does she always know when something is wrong?
I nod, even though I know she can’t see me. “Yeah,” I lie, despite my obvious tears.
“What’s wrong, Brell?” she asks.