Their Virgin Mistress (Masters of Ménage #7)(13)

"I don't think I'm helping you as much as you need. I have a colleague in New York who might be better suited to your PR needs. I'll leave you his contact information. We spoke yesterday about another matter, so I know he's working on something right now, but he could probably be here by the end of the month."

He tensed. "We don't need to bring in anyone to help you, Tori. You're doing fine."

"That's not what she's suggesting," Oliver explained grimly.

Rory turned to her. "Oh?"

Tori trained her stare on Oliver. "It's been six months, and I haven't made a substantial difference here. Perhaps the company should try someone new. I suggest a man because I think you might listen better to one."

"No." Callum wasn't about to let her go, not before he could see whether he and Tori could have a go at a future together. "Absolutely not. You saw what happened. We're on testosterone overload as it is. We don't need more. We need you."

Oliver held up his hand, a clear signal he'd decided to take over. "So now we're misogynists, is that it?"

She frowned. "No. You're all normally quite polite and kind. You're very much gentlemen around me, which is why I think you need a male. You might talk to him more … openly. He might be able to get to the root of the problem."

Tori was the root of the problem. How the hell could they tell her that?

Well, love, we all want in your knickers and we're battling it out to see who gets to go first. Yes, she would love that.

Who goes first? Callum intended to be first-and last. He would be her only. Hell, he and his brothers couldn't share a room, much less a wife, without fighting. Right? 

A little voice in his head had been picking at him for weeks, ever since he'd talked to his friends in New Orleans who shared a wife. Three lawyers. One beloved beauty. He kept waiting for their relationship to fall apart, but they seemed happier than ever.

Oliver sat back, looking positively arctic. "Do you want to leave?"

"Of course she doesn't," Callum said, trying to be an optimist.

"Don't interrupt, Cal," Oliver snapped. "Tori has been through a great deal with us in the past six months. My situation-and the company's-was already challenging enough. So what did you give her? A paternity suit. Brilliant." He turned to Rory. "And you heaped on a parade of apparent sluts. I wouldn't blame her if she preferred to go home." He quieted for a moment, then his expression softened as he regarded Tori. "Do you miss your fiancé? You're not wearing your engagement ring. Is there any trouble?"

Callum bit back a retort. For once, he knew something they didn't. Finally, he was ahead of his brothers in the knowledge department, and he'd been saving this nugget for his own use. He wasn't about to let Tori leave. But for now, he sat back and waited to see how she responded.

Tori glanced down at her hand and seemed surprised to see it ringless. Then she fumbled for her purse and slipped the meager gem on once more. "I took it off so my sister could look at it. She loves diamonds. I guess I forgot to put it back on."

Yes, because the Queen of Bezakistan couldn't tell a real diamond from that piece of shit fake. Callum held back his snort. He suspected that if he asked Piper, she probably had no idea her sister was "engaged."

For months, it had bothered him that Tori talked about that ring as if James Fenway had spent his last dime on it. He'd assumed that she was either overcompensating because she knew it was synthetic or terribly naïve. If the latter, Callum had itched to beat the liar to a bloody pulp.

Except now he knew. She was the liar. Tori had bought that silly ring for seventy pounds, and according to his private investigator, no man by the name of James Fenway existed in her little Texas hometown.

Yes, he definitely intended to spank her for that, the little minx.

"You're under contract," Rory reminded her with a quiet bite.

"I can release her from that contract," Oliver countered.

"Not without the support of the board." Rory sat up straight, thrusting his chin out stubbornly, the way he used to just before he did something sure to land him in trouble. "I think we need her. Callum will vote with me."

"Damn straight." At least they were in accord on this.

"Claire will vote with me." Oliver shot Rory a tight smile.

"I'm not so sure about that," Callum said. "Claire likes Tori. She might vote to keep her around just so she's got another female, but if not we go to our tie breaker, Uncle Walter."

Uncle Walter loved one thing and one thing only these days. He'd been given stock in the company on the marriage of his only sister to Albert Thurston-Hughes, but he'd never had a head for business. He taught mathematics at university but he only worked so he could afford tickets to his favorite football team.