Their Virgin Mistress (Masters of Ménage #7)(14)

Manchester United.

"Yes," Callum said with a satisfied sigh. "I think I should ring him up and assure him I can get him an executive box this year."

"You're a smug bastard." Oliver clearly knew he'd been defeated. "Ms. Glen, we'll be enforcing your contract, it seems."

"I thought that contract was for my benefit, that it guaranteed me a year of work." She swiveled her gaze at Rory, who had written the contract. "You said it protected me from being fired. Isn't that what sacked means?"



       
         
       
        

"Contracts work both ways. Since you were coming here from America, I had you sign the same contract I would give any non-British national we host for a prolonged period. We have to deal with your work visa and a lot of paperwork. It only makes sense that you would agree to a time frame advantageous to us both."

"I'm trying to do what's best for y'all." As she grew more agitated, her Texas accent became more pronounced. "You can't force me to stay here."

"No," Oliver agreed. "We can't force you to honor your contract but I believe there's a clause that states you must repay us the expenses we incurred during your employment, should you resign early. Between the legal fees to get you into the country, the travel expenses, and your flat, I think we're somewhere close to fifty thousand pounds."

"We'll need that in cash," Rory added, looking smug.

Tori blinked, obviously stunned.

They were making a hash of this. Callum sighed. "No one wants you to go, love. What happened this afternoon was entirely my fault. Oliver and I were arguing over how to handle some of the advertisements for the fundraiser. I might have lost my temper a bit and called him some names. Mentioned he's losing his hair and getting the slightest bit soft in the middle. He was trying to show me he wasn't."

Tori shook a finger at him. "You can't talk to your brother that way. You know he's sensitive about his hair."

Oliver frowned. "I bloody well am not. I've got all my hair."

She sent him an enthusiastic nod. "I know you do." She turned back to Callum. "You need to be more professional. And sensitive."

At least she was back to henpecking him. He could handle that. He couldn't handle her leaving. "Yes. Of course. I'll apologize to the reporter and explain everything."

She stood and crossed the room to him. Callum rose to his feet, looking down at her as she straightened his tie. "Wash up first. There's a speck of blood on your shirt."

God, he loved being close to her.

"Where?" He pretended he didn't see it.

"Here." She pointed to a spot high on his chest, her finger brushing him.

Callum's cock went rock hard again the instant she touched him. "I've got a clean one in my office. I'll change straightaway. I'm sorry, Tori. I can't tell you how much. My behavior was immature and ridiculous. It won't happen again."

She sniffled a little, looking up at him with bright blue eyes. "We all make mistakes. I'm glad I'm not leaving, though I'm kicking myself for not reading the contract more thoroughly. Please be polite to the reporter. He's a huge fan. It might be good if you took him out for a beer. A pint, I mean." 

He grinned. "We'll make a Brit out of you yet. Now go on and try to forget this afternoon. We've got a ball to put on tomorrow. You're supposed to meet with Sheila at Harrods at four."

She looked down at her watch. "I forgot. I'll have to run."

"I'll have my driver take you," Oliver offered.

"You have a driver?" she asked. "I thought you walked everywhere."

Stalked was more like it, but he wasn't going to get his brother into more trouble. "We keep one in case of emergencies. Go along. His names is Charles and he'll be waiting for you in the car park."

She gave him a radiant smile and was off.

Rory shook his head, his eyes still on the door. "Did she not read the contract? I didn't think I had to mention anything since she's perfectly well educated. She's able to read. It was right there."

Oliver ignored him, turning to Callum. "I am not losing my hair. Don't you dare tell that reporter some daft story about my anguish over my nonexistent hair loss. And I'm certainly not turning to fat. I proved that by the elevators."

Callum had to hide a smile because this was the most animated Oliver had been in years. "You're right. I'll tell the pesky reporter that we were scrapping over a bet we'd made. Everyone understands football fights. Just a tiny bit of hooligan in you, brother. I'll smooth it over."