Mr masters, p.1
Mr Masters, page 1
Contents
Gratitude
Acknowledements
Author Note:
Also by TL Swan
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Gym Junkie
Dr Stanton
Stanton Adore
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are purely coincidental.
Copyright 2018 by T L Swan
All rights reserved.
Gratitude
The quality of being thankful; readiness to show
appreciation for, and to return kindness.
Dedication
I would like to dedicate this book to the alphabet.
For those twenty-six letters have changed my life.
Within those twenty six letters
I found myself
And live my dream.
Next time you say the alphabet
Remember its power.
I do everyday.
Acknowledements
There are no words meaningful enough to thank my wonderful team.
I don’t write my books alone, I have an army.
The best army in the world.
Kellie, the most wonderful PA on Earth.
You are amazing and thank you
For all that you do for me.
To my wonderful beta readers, Mum, Vicki, Am, Rachel, Nicole
Lisa K, Lisa D, Nadia and Charlotte
Thank you, you put up with a lot and never whine, even when I make you wait forever for the next chapter.
How I got so lucky to have you come into my lives and call my friends, I will never know.
Vic, you make me better and your friendship is so valued.
To my PR Team at Forward, thank you for all that you do.
To my home girls in the Swan Squad, I feel like I can do anything with you girls in my corner. Thanks for making me laugh everyday.
And to my beautiful husband and my 3 children, you are my reason xxx
TO MY READERS
Without your support I wouldn’t get to live my dream. I can never thank you enough for your unwavering support. But I’ll try anyway, thank you so much from the bottom of my heart, I really mean that.
I hope you love Mr Masters as much as I do.
This man holds a special place in my heart and I feel honored to have been gifted his story.
Tee
xox
Author Note:
Now
I have some explaining to do.
For anyone who knows my books and the way I write, you will know that I leave no stone unturned.
For those of you who have read Find Me Alastar (my screenplay) I do need to warn that you that Emerson and Alastar have only been touched on in this book.
Why?
Because it was absolutely impossible to elaborate on their story and not give any spoilers for future readers.
In light of that, I’m going to let you in on a secret.
I can confirm that there will be a second book in the Alastar Series
SAVE ME ALASTAR
I don’t know when, I don’t know how
But I am going to write this book.
Their story is too beautiful to end there.
Stay tuned.
xx
Also by TL Swan
Stanton Adore #Stanton book 1
Stanton Unconditional #Stanton book 2
Stanton Completely #Stanton book 3
Stanton Bliss #Stanton book 4
Find Me Alastar #Alastar book 1
Save Me Alastar #Alastar book 2 (coming soon)
Play Along
Dr Stanton #Dr Stanton book 1
Dr Stanton The Epilogue #Dr Stanton book 2
Marx Girl
Mr Masters #Mr book 1
Mr Spencer #Mr book 2 (coming soon)
Gym Junkie #Men of Marx book 1 (coming soon)
The Fireman Next Door #Uniform book 1 (coming soon)
Escape Girl (coming soon)
Anastas (coming soon)
Mr. Masters
TL Swan
Prologue
Julian Masters
ALINA MASTERS
1984 – 2013
Wife and beloved mother.
In God’s hands we trust.
Grief. The Grim Reaper of life.
Stealer of joy, hope and purpose.
Some days are bearable. Other days I can hardly breathe, and I suffocate in a world of regret where good reason has no sense.
I never know when those days will hit, only that when I wake, my chest feels constricted and I need to run. I need to be anywhere but here, dealing with this life.
My life.
Our life.
Until you left.
The sound of a distant lawnmower brings me back to the present, and I glance over at the cemetery’s caretaker. He’s concentrating as he weaves between the tombstones, careful not to clip or damage one as he passes. It’s dusk, and the mist is rolling in for the night.
I come here often to think, to try and feel.
I can’t talk to anyone. I can’t express my true feelings.
I want to know why.
Why did you do this to us?
I clench my jaw as I stare at my late wife’s tombstone.
We could have had it all… but, we didn’t.
I lean down and brush the dust away from her name and rearrange the pink lilies that I have just placed in the vase. I touch her face on the small oval photo. She stares back at me, void of emotion.
Stepping back, I drop my hands in the pockets of my black overcoat.
I could stand here and stare at this headstone all day—sometimes I do—but I turn and walk to the car without looking back.
My Porsche.
Sure, I have money and two kids that love me. I’m at the top of my professional field, working as a judge. I have all the tools to be happy, but I’m not.
I’m barely surviving; holding on by a thread.
Playing the façade to the world.
Dying inside.
Half an hour later, I arrive at Madison’s—my therapist.
I always leave here relaxed.
I don’t have to talk, I don’t have to think, don’t have to feel.
I walk through the front doors on autopilot.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Smith.” Hayley the receptionist smiles. “Your room is waiting, sir.”
“Thank you.” I frown, feeling like I need something more today. Something to take this edginess off.
A distraction.
“I’ll have someone extra today, Hayley.”
“Of course, sir. Who would you like?”
I frown and take a moment to get it right. “Hmm. Hannah.”
“So, Hannah and Belinda?”
“Yes.”
“No problem, sir. Make yourself comfortable and they will be right up.”
I take the lift to the exclusive penthouse. Once there I make myself a scotch and stare out the smoke-glass window overlooking London.
I hear the door click behind me and I turn toward the sound.
Holly and Belinda stand before me smiling.
Belinda has long, blonde hair, while Hannah is a brunette. There’s no denying they’re both young and beautiful.
“Hello, Mr Smith,” they say in unison
I sip my scotch as my eyes drink them in.
“Where would you like us, sir?”
I unbuckle my belt. “On your knees.”
Chapter One
Brielle
Customs is ridiculously slow, and a man has been pulled into the office up ahead. It all looks very suspicious from my position at the back of the line. “What do you think he did?” I whisper as I crane my neck to spy the commotion up ahead.
“I don’t know, something stupid, probably,” Emerson replies. We shuffle toward the desk as the line moves a little quicker.
We’ve just arrived in London to begin our year-long working holiday. I’m going to work for a judge as a nanny, while Emerson, my best friend, is working for an art auctioneer. I’m terrified, yet excited.
“I wish we had come a week earlier so we could have spent some time together,” Emerson says.
“Yeah, I know, but she needed me to start this week because she’s going away next week. I need to learn the kids routine.”
“Who leaves their kids alone for three days with a complete stranger?” Em frowns in disgust.
I shrug. “My new boss, apparently.”
“Well, at least I can come and stay with you next week. That’s a bonus.”
My position is residential, so my accommodation is secure. However, poor Emerson will be living with two strangers. She’s freaking out over it.
“Yeah
I look around the airport. It’s busy, bustling, and I already feel so alive. Emerson and I are more than just young travellers.
Emerson is trying to find her purpose and I’m running from a destructive past, one that involves me being in love with an adultering prick.
I loved him. He just didn’t love me. Not enough, anyway.
If he had, he would have kept it in his pants, and I wouldn’t be at Heathrow Airport feeling like I’m about to throw up.
I look down at myself and smooth the wrinkles from my dress. “She’s picking me up. Do I look okay?”
Emerson looks me up and down, smiling broadly. “You look exactly how a twenty-five-year-old nanny from Australia should.”
I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling stupidly. That was a good answer.
“So, what’s your bosses name?” she asks.
I rustle around in my bag for my phone and scroll through the emails until I get to the one from the nanny agency. “Mrs. Julian Masters.”
Emerson nods. “And what’s her story again? I know you’ve told me before but I’ve forgotten.”
“She’s a Supreme Court judge, widowed five years ago.” “What happened to the husband?”
“I don’t know, but apparently she’s quite wealthy.” I shrug. “Two kids, well behaved.”
“Sounds good.”
“I hope so. I hope they like me.”
“They will.” We move forward in the line. “We are definitely going out at the weekend, though, yes?”
“Yes.” I nod. “What are you going to do until then?”
Emerson shrugs. “Looking around. I start work on Monday and it’s Thursday today.” She frowns as she watches me. “Are you sure you can go out on the weekends?”
“Yes,” I snap, exasperated. “I told you a thousand times, we’re going out on Saturday night.”
Emerson nods nervously. I think she may be more nervous than I am, but at least I’m acting brave. “Did you get your phone sorted?” I ask.
“No, not yet. I’ll find a phone shop tomorrow so I can call you.”
“Okay.”
We are called to the front of the line, and finally, half an hour later, we walk into the arrival lounge of Heathrow International Airport.
“Do you see our names?” Emerson whispers as we both look around.
“No.”
“Shit, no one is here to pick us up. Typical.” She begins to panic.
“Relax, they will be here,” I mutter.
“What do we do if no one turns up?”
I raise my eyebrow as I consider the possibility. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m going to lose my shit.”
Emerson looks over my shoulder. “Oh, look, there’s your name. She must have sent a driver.”
I turn to see a tall, broad man in a navy suit holding a sign with the name Brielle Johnston on it. I force a smile and wave meekly as I feel my anxiety rise like a tidal wave in my stomach.
He walks over and smiles at me. “Brielle?”
His voice is deep and commanding. “Yes, that’s me,” I breathe.
He holds out his hand to shake mine. “Julian Masters.”
What?
My eyes widen.
A man?
He raises his eyebrows.
“Um, so, I’m… I’m Brielle,” I stammer as I push my hand out. “And this is my friend, Emerson, who I’m travelling with.” He takes my hand in his and my heart races.
A trace of a smile crosses his face before he covers it. “Nice to meet you.” He turns to Emerson and shakes her hand. “How do you do?”
My eyes flash to Emerson, who is clearly loving this shit. She grins brightly. “Hello.”
“I thought you were a woman,” I whisper.
His brows furrow. “Last time I checked I was all man.” His eyes hold mine.
Why did I just say that out loud? Oh my God, stop talking.
This is so awkward.
I want to go home. This is a bad idea.
“I’ll wait over here.” He gestures to the corner before marching off in that direction. My horrified eyes meet Emerson’s, and she giggles, so I punch her hard in the arm.
“Oh my fuck, he’s a fucking man,” I whisper angrily.
“I can see that.” She smirks, her eyes fixed on him.
“Excuse me, Mr. Masters?” I call after him.
He turns. “Yes.”
We both wither under his glare. “We… we are just going to use the bathroom,” I stammer nervously.
With one curt nod he gestures to the right. We look up and see the sign. I grab Emerson by the arm and drag her into the bathroom. “I’m not working with a stuffy old man!” I shriek as we burst through the door.
“It will be okay. How did this happen?”
I take out my phone and scroll through the emails quickly. I knew it. “It says woman. I knew it said woman.”
“He’s not that old,” she calls out from her cubicle. “I would prefer to work for a man than a woman, to be honest.”
“You know what, Emerson? This is a shit idea. How the hell did I let you talk me into this?”
She smiles as she exits the cubicle and washes her hands. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll hardly see him, anyway, and you’re not working weekends when he’s home. She’s clearly trying to calm me. “Stop with the carry on.”
Stop the carry on.
Steam feels like it’s shooting from my ears. “I’m going to kill you. I’m going to fucking kill you.”
Emerson bites her lip to stifle her smile. “Listen, just stay with him until we find you something else. I will get my phone sorted tomorrow and we can start looking elsewhere for another job,” she reassures me. “At least someone picked you up. Nobody cares about me at all.”
I put my head into my hands as I try to calm my breathing. "This is a disaster, Em," I whisper. Suddenly every fear I had about travelling is coming true. I feel completely out of my comfort zone.
“It’s going to be one week… tops.”
My scared eyes lift to hold hers, and I nod.
“Okay?” She smiles as she pulls me into a hug.
"Okay." I glance back in the mirror, fix my hair, and straighten my dress. I'm completely rattled.
We walk back out and take our place next to Mr. Masters. He’s in his late thirties, immaculately dressed, and kind of attractive. His hair is dark with a sprinkle of grey.
“Did you have a good flight?” he asks as he looks down at me.
“Yes, thanks,” I push out. Oh, that sounded so forced. “Thank you for picking us up,” I add meekly.
He nods with no fuss.
Emerson smiles at the floor as she tries to hide her smile.
