He takes my hand, pulls me from the bed, and leads me into the bathroom to run a shower. He turns toward me and studies my face as he runs his fingers through my long hair. “Do you have a hair tie?”

I nod.

“Where is it? I’ll get it for you.”

“In my handbag.”

He disappears, returning only moments later to carefully tie my hair up into a bun on top of my head. My hands rest on his naked hips as he concentrates

on his task. He’s gentle and caring—so different from the animal that just fucked me ten minutes ago.

He really is Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

He leads me into the shower and washes me tenderly with sweet smelling soap, caressing my arms, breasts, stomach, my sex, and down my legs. I feel like a child being looked after, and this feels surprisingly intimate. His attention returns to my face, and he cups my cheek in his hand.

“You’re quiet,” he whispers, his lips lingering over mine.

We share a soft kiss.

“I’m in a little bit of shock, to be honest,” I say against his lips.

“Why?”

“That was arguably the best sex I’ve ever had.” He smiles sheepishly. “We’ve only just started, baby girl.”

“Are you sure about that?”

His tongue swipes through my open lips. God, my whole body is open for him. “This is the beginning of a wonderful arrangement.”

Arrangement. I don’t like the word ‘arrangement’. We stay silent in each other’s arms for a while longer, and eventually, he steps out and wraps me in a towel. He dries me, taking care of every inch of my skin with a tender touch, and then he finds my clothes and dresses me.

It’s like this is part of his game, to look after me after he has ripped my body apart. Or perhaps he feels guilty for being so rough.

I’m not sure, but I do feel confused, yet cared for and so fucking satisfied.

I watch him as he dresses back into his suit, and then looks around the room. “Do you have everything?” he asks.

Are we going home now? “Yes,” I answer.

“Let’s get going.” He turns toward the door, remembering something and turning back to retrieve his wallet. “I got you this for you.” He passes me a gold card and I stare at it in my hands.

It’s a credit card.

What?

“I’m not a hooker, Julian.”

He frowns. “I know that, I got it for you for incidentals.”

“Such as?” I frown.

“Things that you may need for our meetings.”

I stare at him blankly. “Like what?”

“The outfits I want you to wear. Personal care. Lasering. Things like that. Spend it as you wish. The card has no limit.”

My eyes drop to the card in my hand. “When did you order this?”

“Last week,” he says casually as he looks around the room.

I put my hand on my hip. “So, you knew I would be here doing this with you eventually.”

He smiles, leans in, and kisses me on the lips. “That was my agenda, yes.”

Are you kidding me?

“Come on, let’s go.”

I glance at my watch. It’s 10:30 p.m. We literally just fucked for two hours and now the date is over. He takes my hand and leads me out of the room, back into the elevator and down to the parking lot.

I stay silent because… what is there to say?

He told me he was going to fuck me without any strings attached, and that’s just what he did. Except now there is a limitless credit card attached to our arrangement.

Stop overthinking this.

We get to the car and he takes my face in his hands to kiss me. It’s deep and erotic, and my feet lift off the ground to get closer to him. “You were amazing,” he breathes.

I force a smile but stay quiet.

“Everything alright?” he asks, studying my face.

I nod. “Yes.” But I’m just not sure that’s the truth. I feel off, and I can’t put my finger on which part of the night brought that feeling on.

The drive home is made in complete silence, all the way to him opening the front door to his house.

“Goodnight, Miss Brielle,” he says coldly, right before he walks away, making the trek up the stairs to his room. He doesn’t look back and he doesn’t wait for me to respond.

I stand in the foyer, bewildered, watching his body until it disappears out of sight.

What the fuck just happened?

CHAPTER NINE

I FINISH DRYING my hair and check myself over in the mirror.

It’s Saturday morning, and we have Will’s soccer game to attend.

I’m wearing black jeans, black ballet flats, and a black singlet with a white linen shirt left open. My hair is down and I’m wearing the smallest amount of natural makeup.

My stomach is alive with nerves. I’ve hardly slept. My mind was racing at a million miles per minute.

I can't believe I did what I did last night. It was like some erotic movie I had no right to be part of. I can't believe it was that good. The credit card makes me feel uneasy, but I guess I did spend one-hundred and fifty pounds on my slutwear yesterday.

I don’t know how I feel about everything, to be honest. I’m going to have to sit on things for a while.

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.