Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
I want to be up there with them.
Dinner is in the oven, and it’s then I realise how good it feels to be home.
The front door bangs open.
“Brelly!” Sammy squeals as he sprints into the kitchen and throws himself at me.
“Hello, baby.” I kiss his forehead. “Oh, I missed you.” I smile as I squeeze him in my arms.
Tillie comes sprinting into the kitchen and jumps up on my legs. Then Will appears, and I wrap my free arm around her.
“Hello, my pumpkin.” I kiss her forehead.
Julian soon follows behind them and he finds me with a child under each arm and a dog jumping up my legs. “I didn’t get this reception,” he mutters dryly, throwing his keys onto the bench.
I giggle as I stare into his eyes.
“I’ve got so much to tell you, Brell,” Willow says, her voice filled with excitement.
“You do?” I smile.
She holds her hands out. “You won’t believe it.”
“What?”
“Lola invited me to her birthday party.”
“She did?”
“Yes, and everyone is going.”
My eyes widen. “You mean the boys from golf?” She smiles and nods. “And all her friends from university.”
“This is great news.” I point at her. “You should wear the blue dress, and I’ll do your hair. We should practice some styles tomorrow.”
“Yes, can we?”
Julian rolls his eyes as he takes a seat at the counter. “May I remind you that the blue dress is for wearing at home only?”
I smirk as my eyes rise to him. He hates that his little girl is growing up.
“So, when did you speak to her?” I ask, focusing back on Willow.
“She’s been texting me all weekend.”
“She has?” I smile broadly. “Look at you, being all friendly and social.”
She smiles filled with pride.
“Dinner is about half an hour away. Why don’t you kids go shower and get ready for school tomorrow?” I ask.
“Okay.” Sammy scoots back into the living room. “Oh no! Maverick, no,” we hear him cry.
Willow walks into the living room. “Oh… shit.” She gasps.
“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.”
I hang up and stare at my phone for a moment. He’s started saying that to me since we got back from Rome: drive safely.
Does it ever cross his mind… the phone call he got when Alina died? Is he scared he’s going to get that call again?
We have so many bridges to cross, so many inner demons to fight—both of us do. I keep thinking this horrible thought—and I hate that I do—but what about his addiction to prostitutes? Would he ever go back to that?
I mean, if I was pregnant and unable to have sex for an extended period of time, would he still be satisfied?
Stop it. Stop thinking this shit. It isn’t healthy.
His past is his past. It can only hurt me if I let it.