Their Virgin Mistress (Masters of Ménage #7)(24)

"Somewhere private. You see, a very intelligent woman once told me that arguments should remain private. Clearly, you're about to yell at me, so I thought we should nip out, away from prying eyes and ears, so you can express yourself freely."

They crossed the ballroom floor. Orchestra music swelled and elegant couples danced, London's wealthiest citizens gossiping all around them. He'd much prefer to take Tori out on the floor and show her off as his, but he hadn't earned that right yet. Instead, he led her into the empty, shadowed hallway on the far side of the ballroom.

"I'm not going to yell," she said in a hushed voice. "I don't ever yell. I'm just going to ask you not to lie to me. How much did this dress cost?" 

Yes, he'd been caught, but at least he wasn't without a play. "That dress looks stunning on you and it's worth every penny I paid for it."

She sucked in a sharp breath, clearly trying to keep tight control on her temper. "I asked for help in finding a suitable dress I could afford. You offered me your personal shopper. Fine. Nowhere in that conversation did I agree to let you buy my gown."

He reached the door, thankfully finding it unlocked again, and opened it. Some of the event staff had used a corner for storage, but the room lay empty now, so Cal dragged Tori inside. The noise of the ballroom faded away as the door swung shut behind them. "You couldn't begin to afford anything you're wearing, which is precisely why I bought it."

She whirled on him. Ambient lighting shimmered around the perimeter of the room, a soft, golden glow that illuminated the space. The diamonds around her graceful throat and her shimmering skin caught the light as she paced in front of a good-sized table and several leather chairs. "You bought it so I wouldn't embarrass the company or your family at this occasion?"

He shook his head. "You could never embarrass me. I bought it because I think you deserve to have a dress as beautiful as you." Telling her the truth felt good, freeing.

Eyes wide, she stepped back, her body coming into contact with the conference table. "I believe you meant this as a lovely gesture, but my brothers-in-law pointed out to me that I'm wearing a fortune I didn't pay for. Do you know what they think of me now?"

He didn't particularly care what they thought. "That you look beautiful, too?"

"That I'm your mistress." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Your whore."

Anger flashed through his system and burned hot. Usually, he wasn't a man with a quick temper, but this pushed his buttons.

He whirled and stormed toward the door. "I'll handle it."

She grabbed his arm, halting him before he left. "Stop."

This wasn't something he would be moved on. "No. I won't allow anyone to talk to you that way. Do you understand me? I don't care who they are. Which one was it?"

It didn't matter. He'd take on all three if he had to.

She took a long breath and stared up at him. "Cal, no one used that word except me, so don't get angry with my brothers-in-law. I'm telling you how I felt when they pointed out that any man who spent this much money on a woman meant to put his brand on her."

All right, then. He could agree with that. "It wasn't my intention to make you feel like my mistress. I simply like seeing you in clothes I bought for you."

"Callum, I'm engaged." And she was right back to putting space between them. Clearly, she meant to play this lie out to the bitter end.

He moved in, obliterating that space she used as an invisible wall between them. He inched closer, closer … until she had nowhere to go. "So you've told me. But if you're in love with your fiancé, why do you spend so much time with me?"

He watched her, carefully noting her responses. Her breathing picked up. Her skin flushed lightly. She licked her lips as she gazed up at him. Cal saw no signs of fear, but he would bet her nipples were hard pebbles now. He wouldn't have to expend much effort to touch them. Just a little tug, and that bodice would fall. He could cup a breast, pull its tip into his mouth, and drink her in.

Her gaze slid away. "Because we're friends."

"We are friends. But I want more than that." He cupped her cheek and forced her to meet his stare once more.



       
         
       
        

"I can't." The words came out breathy and soft, without an ounce of real willpower behind them.

Normally, Tori had no problem defending herself. She could argue for hours, but all her self-possession seemed to have fled. Her blue eyes looked soft as her gaze tangled with his.