Maybe her virginity was holding her back. She'd come to that conclusion during the cab ride back to her flat. An experienced woman wouldn't have lied about her engagement because she was worried about being hit on. She would have refused the men she didn't want and dated the ones she did. An experienced woman wouldn't have stood in front of Oliver Thurston-Hughes and felt shame slither down her spine. She wouldn't have felt like a whore because she hadn't done anything wrong. Okay, maybe the timing hadn't been spectacular, but still … If she'd been a man caught with a woman's hands down his pants, there would have been a quick cover-up and a shrug.
When she returned to the States, Tori intended to find some decent guy, have some hopefully decent sex, get the virginity thing behind her, then move on with her life. After that, she wouldn't be the sort of girl who lived her life like a nun and turned into a puddle of goo the minute some hot man put his hands on her. Nope, she would be experienced then. She would take charge.
The plan seemed logical … but she didn't love it. Thankfully, she didn't have to unravel this mess and figure out her future tonight. She would chalk up her time in London as a lesson. She'd spend a couple weeks' vacation in Bezakistan and hold a bunch of babies and try to forget that she'd ever come to England. Back in the U.S., she'd start over professionally and romantically.
A little squeak behind Tori made her pause. It sounded like the rubber soles of sneakers on the marble floor. She whirled and saw a large man creeping up behind her, his face covered by a ski mask. He held a wicked-looking knife. Terror flooded her as she gasped. She thought about running but knew she wouldn't get far with her aching feet.
"Give me the jewelry," he snarled.
Tori took a steady breath to quell her shaking. Surely, CCTV cameras lurked in the corners and someone would see what was happening. They would send help, right?
She heard the ding of the lift and considered making a dash for safety. Maybe she could surprise him and get the doors closed between them before he caught her. She couldn't give up the jewelry. It was too expensive. She could never repay Callum if she lost it.
"Don't even think about it, bitch." Her assailant grabbed her wrist, wrenching it as he pulled her close.
His meaty fist tightened around her wrist. Pain flared. She tried to jerk free. "Help!"
"There's no one to hear you." He sounded snide. "I can already see this job will have benefits. I was told to have a little fun with you." He yanked her close and pressed the knife against her ribs. "I think it's time we take this party to your flat. If you scream one more time, I'll cut you. And I'll still have my way with you. I don't mind if you get a little cold."
Abject horror threatened to overtake Tori. Her entire being revolted at the idea, but before she could fight him, the man grunted and stumbled back, releasing her.
Tori heard the knife clatter to the floor, then turned to see the big attacker whirled around-and Oliver manhandling him.
Relief poured through her. She couldn't quite breathe. Oliver was here. He'd pulled her attacker away. She probably shouldn't be relieved that a CEO had come to take on a street thug, but she wasn't alone anymore. He was risking himself for her. They would defeat him together.
As Oliver punched up with an uppercut, she grabbed the closest thing she could, a solid-looking lamp next to a table beside the lifts. She picked it up and swung it around, plowing the base into the attacker's skull as Oliver kicked the thug in the balls.
The CEO didn't fight fair, it seemed.
Her assailant doubled over with a grunt, clutching his balls.
"What the hell do you want?" Oliver growled.
The other man didn't answer for a long moment, just groaned like a wounded animal. As Tori wondered how badly they'd hurt him, he jumped to his feet, shouldering Oliver aside. He stumbled toward the door, grabbing his knife from the tile, then burst out onto the street. With a curse, Oliver started after him.
"Wait." Tori grabbed his sleeve.
He spun around to her. Blood trickled from his lip, onto his shirt. Breathing heavily, he swiped his thumb over the drop at the corner of his mouth and glanced down at the crimson smeared over his skin.
The savage look he wore made her take a step back. "Oliver?"
He sucked in a breath and seemed to force himself off the ledge. "You made me lose him. He's gone."
"What were you thinking, chasing after him? He could have killed you." Her pounding heart pumped adrenaline through her system.
Oliver pulled out his cell. "Or I could have killed him. Have you thought of that? What did he want?"