Their Virgin Mistress (Masters of Ménage #7)(31)

Of course in showing Cal the error of his ways, Oliver didn't mind if he got a little pussy for himself.

Tori turned and fled the opposite direction, not toward the ballroom-but the exit.

Damnation. He couldn't let her escape. He couldn't let her play the wounded bird. Callum would fall right into that trap, and Rory, who was already half under her spell, would follow.

"Where is she going? Is Tori all right?" Claire approached, wearing a concerned expression.

Naturally, his siblings would take her side. Perhaps they wouldn't when he proved she was nothing more than a doe-eyed hustler. "I don't know, but I'll find out. Help Callum get ready for his speech. Make sure his tie is on properly. He should be announcing how much money we've raised in the next fifteen minutes."

"Is something troubling you, Oliver?" His sister had always been able to see through him.

He schooled his features into a polite mask and placated her. "Nothing. I'll make certain Tori is safe."

From everyone except him.

He left Claire and followed Tori down the hall, the world getting quieter as they put distance between them and the glittery ballroom.

Ahead of him, she sniffled but didn't seem to notice anyone following. That didn't surprise him. She'd never once noticed when he'd followed her before.

She managed to wend her way to a hall that led out of the building. When she darted outside into the cool, humid evening, she took a deep breath, then sighed as though relieved to be free of the pomp and the people.

Oliver was relieved as well. Now he could hunt her down properly.

Then again, she should be easy prey. She had no way back to her corporate flat. She'd come with them in the limo. Was she going to try to navigate the Tube in a designer dress that left her looking half naked and four-inch heels that would break on the first grate she stepped onto?

Absently, he wondered why she behaved with such maudlin desperation. She had Cal under her finger. All she had to do was bat her lashes and cry prettily. He would likely drop everything to take her home.

With a curse, Oliver texted his driver his location and continued following her on foot. When she got to the end of the street, she hailed a cab.

Luckily his car pulled up and he climbed in. "Follow the taxi, Charles."

It didn't take long before he realized she was heading back to her flat. Within minutes, the cab arrived in front of the building where Thurston-Hughes housed its visiting employees. Tori got out and turned to pay the driver with money she'd tucked into a clever pocket in her skirt.

The street was quiet at this time of night, though no part of London was ever really deserted. He watched as she stepped into the light under a streetlamp. She'd been crying again. It was there in the pink of her skin, the slight puffiness around her eyes.



       
         
       
        

Did she feel guilty now for cheating on her fiancé? Was she going to tell him that she'd been unfaithful or would she pretend it had never happened?

Tori made it to the door and swiped her card through the reader. The door popped open. He was about to tell Charles to pull away when a man dressed in head-to-toe black sprinted from the shadows and slipped in before the door closed behind them. A ski mask covered his face.

Oliver bolted out of the car. It looked like he would finally get that fight he needed after all.





CHAPTER FIVE


Tori sniffled as she stepped through the stark, contemporary lobby of her building, toward the lifts. Her heels clicked against the marble tile in the eerily empty space. She was alone. The hour wasn't late, but it seemed as if everyone was either tucked in for the night or out on the town. The building employed a maintenance worker and a manager, but not a doorman. She usually liked the privacy and tonight was no exception. The last thing she wanted was someone she knew seeing her walk of shame. Of course it wasn't morning, but slinking back here after running out on Callum felt wretched, both professionally and personally.

Her heels continued clomping against the floor, reminding her that she wasn't used to walking in anything so high. She usually wore practical shoes because she was on her feet most of the day, nothing like these princess shoes she was going to have to figure out a way to return.

Groaning, she reached down and pulled the shoes off. Her feet ached, but that was nothing compared to the rest of her. She was weary. Her whole bright future in public relations seemed to have vanished with one foolish act, and the biggest idiocy of it all? She would be damned for spreading her legs at a work event for one of her bosses, and she hadn't even gotten to have sex.

What did her virginity really mean if she didn't give it to someone worthwhile? She loved Callum, and he would have made sure she enjoyed the act.