C3 chapter 2
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.
That bitch is loving this shit.
“Emerson?” a male voice calls. We all turn to see a blonde man, and Emerson’s face falls. Ha! Now it’s my turn to laugh.
“Hello, I’m Mark.” He kisses her on the cheek and then turns to me. “You must be Brielle?”
“Yes.” I smile then turn to Mr. Masters. “And this is…” I pause because I don’t know how to introduce him.
“Julian Masters,” he finishes for me, adding in a strong handshake.
Emerson and I fake smile at each other.
Oh dear God, help me.
Emerson stands and talks with Mark and Mr. Masters, while I stand in uncomfortable silence.
“The car is this way.” He gestures to the right.
I nod nervously. Oh God, don’t leave me with him.
This is terrifying.
“Nice to meet you, Emerson and Mark.” He shakes their hands.
“Likewise. Please look after my friend,” Emerson whispers as her eyes flicker to mine.
Mr. Masters nods, smiles, and then pulls my luggage behind him as he walks to the car. Emerson pulls me into an embrace. “This is shit,” I whisper into her hair.
“It will be fine. He’s probably really nice.”
“He doesn’t look nice,” I whisper.
“Yeah, I agree. He looks like a tool,” Mark adds as he watches him disappear through the crowd.
Emerson throws her new friend a dirty look, and I smirk. I think her friend is more annoying than mine, but anyway... “Mark, look after my friend, please?”
He beats his chest like a gorilla. “Oh, I intend to.”
Emerson’s eyes meet mine. She subtly shakes her head and I bite my bottom lip to hide my smile. This guy is a dick. We both look over to see Mr. Masters looking back impatiently. “I better go,” I whisper.
“You have my apartment details if you need me?”
"I'll probably turn up in an hour. Tell your roommates I'm coming in case I need a key."
She laughs and waves me off, and I go to Mr. Masters. He sees me coming and then starts to walk again.
God, can he not even wait for me? So rude.
He walks out of the building into the VIP parking section. I follow him in complete silence.
Any notion that I was going to become friends with my new boss has been thrown out the window. I think he hates me already.
Just wait until he finds out that I lied on my resume and I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. Nerves flutter in my stomach at the thought.
We get to a large, swanky, black SUV, and he clicks it open to put my suitcase in the trunk. He opens the back door for me to get in. “Thank you.” I smile
awkwardly as I slide into the seat. He wants me to sit in the back when the front seat is empty.
This man is odd.
He slides into the front seat and eventually pulls out into the traffic. All I can do is clutch my handbag in my lap.
Should I say something? Try and make conversation?
What will I say?
“Do you live far from here?” I ask.
“Twenty minutes,” he replies, his tone clipped.
Oh…is that it? Okay, shut up now. He doesn’t want a conversation. For ten long minutes we sit in silence.
“You can drive this car when you have the children, or we have a small minivan. The choice is yours.”
“Oh, okay.” I pause for a moment. “Is this your car?”
“No.” He turns onto a street and into a driveway with huge sandstone gates. “I drive a Porsche,” he replies casually. “Oh.”