Their Virgin Mistress (Masters of Ménage #7)(15)

"And what about Tori?" Oliver asked.

"I'll handle her, too." He'd already handled the problem of her dress for the next evening.

Despite the fact that she was related to one of the wealthiest families in the world, she seemed determined to make her own way. That meant she couldn't afford the kind of designer gown she should have for tomorrow night. Given Tori's pride, she would naturally balk at him paying if he tried to buy a gown for her. Instead, he'd arranged for her to try on some "clearance" dresses at Harrods. The clerk there would take a small portion from Tori and bill Callum for the rest.

"Whatever scheme is running through your head is wrong," Oliver reminded through clenched teeth. "She's engaged."

The truth sat on the tip of his tongue, but Callum couldn't risk telling his brothers. If he did and Oliver crooked a finger in her direction, would she choose his eldest brother? Would she prefer Rory's intelligence? Or would she actually saddle herself with a past-his-prime bloke who'd only ever been really good at kicking a ball into a net?

Callum didn't like his odds.

"I'll handle that, too." He walked out, his good mood gone.

He might be a bastard, but she was the prize. And he intended to win.





CHAPTER THREE


Tori stared down at the grand ballroom and wondered if she was doing the right thing. Not about the fundraiser. The event itself seemed to be a very elegant success. The money was rolling in. As an added bonus, the Thurston-Hughes brothers all looked lip-bitingly hot in their tuxedos.

What she really wondered was whether she should have given in so easily and agreed to stay in London. Seeing the three brothers every day made it far too likely she'd keep fantasizing they were her men. What if, one day, imagining herself surrounded and beloved by them was no longer enough?

She winced. She should probably quit before she did something stupid she couldn't take back, something that would leave her with a shattered professional reputation and a broken heart. If she'd been smarter-if she could have managed to want the three of them less-she could have used that dumb fight yesterday as the excuse to hand them over to another publicist. If she'd pushed a little harder, they would have given in. If she'd cried about how much she missed her fiancé, Oliver would have bought her plane ticket himself.



       
         
       
        

Instead, a wave of relief had overtaken her when she realized they had no intention of letting her leave. She was trapped here by that contract she really should have paid more attention to. Yep, she was a glutton for punishment.

From the balcony above, Tori swept her gaze around the ballroom and saw her sister in Talib's arms on the dance floor. A wistful feeling overtook her as she watched them waltz in perfect time. Her sister's beauty and happiness was an almost palpable thing. Who could have guessed how well her seemingly ill-fated business trip to Bezakistan would turn out?

"Hello, little sister," a deep voice said. "You look lovely tonight."

She smiled at her brother-in-law. Rafiq al Mussad was a gorgeous man with pitch-black hair and eyes a girl could get lost in. She held out her hands in greeting. "And you look dashing as always, brother."

Tori loved having family again. For so long, she and Piper had struggled to make it on their own, and now she had all these amazing men to count as brothers.

Rafe took her hands in his and shook his head. "Do you have a guard? I don't like the idea of you running about London in that dress. Piper saw it on the runway two weeks ago, and I feared if she wore it that she would start a riot."

Tori laughed and gave Rafe's hands a squeeze before turning back to the ball. "I don't think I'll be starting any riots, but the fundraiser seems to be doing well. I can't thank you enough for the generous contribution."

"We do what we can." He settled in beside her. "I've been thinking."

"That is a dangerous thing." Tori was only half-teasing. Rafe thinking usually meant some plan to move her into the palace where he could keep his whole family under the watchful eye of the royal guard. Talib and Kadir would naturally concur.

"The world is a dangerous place. I think you should come back to work for us."

She sighed. "The royal family doesn't need my services. You're not bad boys. You're all family men and model royals."

"Sabir and Michael are complete hooligans."

She laughed. "I'm sure my nephews get terrible press because they don't pick up their toys or poop when you want them to. Call me when they're teens. Then you might need my services."