Their Virgin Mistress (Masters of Ménage #7)(11)

Instead, Callum rolled the famous blue eyes that had gotten him laid repeatedly since puberty. "I'm not. Tori is not a mere date. If I do this right, she'll be my fiancée. That should solve many of our problems. My wild reputation will certainly die down, especially after we've married and I've gotten her pregnant a couple of times."

That did it. The notion of his athletic god of a brother impregnating the woman Rory loved finally unhinged his red rage. A vision of Tori, belly curved with a baby, floated through his head. In Rory's estimation, those children should be his. He'd been willing to give up his happiness for Oliver, who'd been devastated by his late wife. But he refused to relinquish Tori to his selfish, good-for-nothing-but-scoring-a-damn-goal sibling.

Before Rory could think, his fist connected with that pretty-boy face that had always gotten Callum every woman he'd ever wanted. By god, it wouldn't land him Tori.

"What the hell?" Callum cupped his jaw. "Why on earth did you do that?"

Rory didn't bother to answer. He punched his older brother again, forcing him back to the wall.

Then Callum struck back, the force of his blow smashing Rory against the lift doors. Years of physical training had given Callum the edge, but Rory looked up and realized Callum's strength was nothing compared to Oliver's rage.

Oliver lashed out, nailing Callum in the jaw. "You're fired, you little shit. I won't let you use her like that."

Rory straightened away from the lift doors as the display above indicated the car stopped on their floor. Through the big doors, he heard a familiar feminine voice.

"Thurston-Hughes Incorporated is one of the last great British family companies, and I think you'll see that the siblings work together to run the company in a harmonious fashion." Tori spoke with soft confidence.

Hell. They were supposed to meet with a reporter this afternoon. Rory feared their sweet Tori was escorting a representative from one of the big financial news sites through the building as a prelude to the fundraiser and Thurston-Hughes's renewal.



       
         
       
        

The elevator doors opened then.

"Yes, I can see that," a male voice chuckled. "That will make a good headline."

Rory looked into Tori's horrified face and prayed she didn't quit on the spot.



* * * *



Callum placed the ice pack over his jaw and wondered where Ollie had learned to throw a punch like that. It had been like a battering ram. He'd nearly seen stars, and that hadn't happened since Spain's defender elbowed him in the final round of the World Cup two years before. He wasn't entirely sure he didn't have a concussion but then he tended to get those like most people got headaches.

"What is wrong with you three?" Tori raged at them back in Oliver's office.

Callum tried to focus on her words, not the way her golden brown hair whipped around her like a lusciously soft windstorm or her blouse tightened over her breasts as she railed. "Sorry."

"You knew the reporters were coming. I know you knew that because you all responded to my e-mail advising you. Is fighting like this some British thing I don't understand? Do you normally greet reporters by brawling with your brother?"

Her pretty cheeks flushed pink. He'd bet she would turn that very same color when he spread her legs and fucked her hard. Damn, but she was pretty when she was mad. He was getting an erection that stiffened and throbbed every time she screamed at him.

Lord, he sounded half mad. Sometimes he wondered if hitting the ball with his head so many times had led to brain damage.

Tori turned her attention to Oliver. "And you …  I thought you were better than that."

Oliver's eyes narrowed and he stood, leaning over his desk so he could properly intimidate her. His older brother had perfected that maneuver in the last two years. He stood a good foot taller than petite Tori and loomed over her like some snarling beast. "So sorry to have proven you wrong, but I think you forget exactly who you work for."

If Tori was at all intimidated, she didn't show it. She planted her palms on Oliver's desk and leaned in, mirroring him. "And I think you forget what you hired me to do, what you swore we were all working toward."

The sexual tension between them was so bloody thick he could cut it with a knife.

And sweet, smart Tori was in the perfect position for a spanking. She was leaning over, her pert ass in the air. Callum could almost feel his palm connecting. He would give her one rough swat to get her attention, then pepper more across that lush ass to sensitize her skin and prepare her for the fucking to follow.