Their Virgin Mistress (Masters of Ménage #7)(6)

Claire scowled. "I always thought Cal was the walking venereal disease."

"Not at all," Callum assured their sister. "I'm perfectly clean. All the doctors' reports say I'm STI free. Perhaps I should have a button announcing that fact made for my lapel."

"Being disease free for the moment hardly makes you prime relationship material," Oliver shot back.

"At the very least, it should be on every girl's checklist. I know it's on mine." Claire sat once more, obviously hoping she'd seen the last of her brothers' theatrics for now.

Oliver tsked. "Rory, we pay Tori for a reason. Have you heard a word our publicist has said? You're supposed to be discreet."

"I assure you, I am. You won't find any YouTube videos of me drunkenly dropping my trousers at a bar in Brazil to shag a girl on a stool."

"That was nearly two years ago," Callum objected. "I've matured since then."

Rory shot him a skeptical glance.

Oliver wanted to punch them both now. "This isn't about Cal, and you know perfectly well that dating three women in a week isn't discreet." Rory needed to grasp the bloody concept. "Our stock is still unstable. If we're not careful, the stockholders will soon ask for my head. Do you want to watch the company our family spent decades building crumble around us?"



       
         
       
        

Rory and Callum both backed down.

"You know I don't." Rory sank into his seat. "I'm not indiscriminately dating women, just escorting a few girls around as a favor. One is an old schoolmate's sister who's working on a movie here. He asked if I would take her to a few dinners. For her, the publicity is helpful."

"And for you, it's toxic. For all of us, in fact." Oliver pressed his thumb to his forehead, massaging between his eyes, though he knew it wouldn't stave off the inevitable headache. "I understand that I'm more than a bit to blame. I started this cycle."

All three of his siblings went on the attack then. Or rather in defense of him, all talking loudly over one another. Oliver managed a grim smile. It was good to know they didn't believe him at fault for the Yasmin incident. Unfortunately, they were wrong.

"Stop," he insisted. "I married her even knowing that I didn't love her. I didn't want to deal with her, so I turned a blind eye to her behavior. And in doing so, I landed our family in every known tabloid. Now we're synonymous with bad behavior. It needs to stop. This is precisely the reason we hired a publicist in the first place. We need to listen to her."

And that meant he couldn't pop in at the pub 'round the corner and pick a fight whenever the whim grabbed him by the balls. He couldn't beat on someone deserving until the chap collapsed. Oliver knew he would simply have to find another way to burn off the angry energy bubbling in his blood.

A vision of Tori assaulted him. He could see her laid out on his desk, her legs spread, arms open and welcoming him inside.

He sucked in a breath, glad he sat behind his desk because the last thing he wanted his siblings to see was the fact that he had an erection. He liked to pretend he no longer got those.

"I agree." Callum stood again and smoothed down his shirt. "Tori insisted that I start looking more serious. It's why I've been working so hard these last few months. I think you'll find that tomorrow night's charity ball will be a smashing success. I've managed to lure a ton of press, and most of my old team is coming out to help. We'll easily raise a hundred thousand pounds for the fund. I'll prove that I'm more than a bloke who kicked a football."

For as long as Oliver could remember, playing midfielder had been all Callum ever wanted. He'd practiced constantly as a kid. He'd made it to the top of his profession, and now, at age twenty-eight, that part of his life was over. Tori had advised him to give Callum a high-profile position within the company. Given both his brother's contacts in entertainment and his charm, she'd suggested marketing. Remembering the debacle of his brother's school years, Oliver had immediately shoved him somewhere he couldn't do too much damage-the director in name only of the corporation's charity wing. Thurston-Hughes had a long history of donating to good causes, specifically London's children's charities. It had been his mother's lifelong passion. 

If what Callum said about the charity ball was true, maybe he'd found another calling.

"I'm looking forward to it, but we must present a united front when the press asks about the paternity suit." Oliver wished he could forget or ignore this unpleasantry, but they'd been planning this fundraiser for months and everyone looking for a scoop would attend. Hopefully the press-and the stockholders-would take note if the family united behind Callum. "In a bit, let's ask Tori what we should and shouldn't say when asked. Then tonight, you'll move into the corporate housing. It's got decent security. And stay away from this mad woman. In a couple of weeks, we can escape on holiday and head out to the countryside. Until then, let's all keep a low profile." Oliver frowned. "Callum, please tell me you're not bringing someone new to the fundraiser."