“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.
That bitch is loving this shit.
“Emerson?” a male voice calls. We all turn to see a blond 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.