Their Virgin Mistress (Masters of Ménage #7)(60)

Oliver stepped in front of her and reached for her bodice.

She slapped at him. "What are you doing?"

"Slipping your nipple back into your dress. I think the press has more than enough photos," he explained matter of factly.

"Oh, my god." When she'd fallen, part of her right breast had slipped free.

"Please, Rafiq, have the orchestra begin as soon as possible," Talib murmured.

Piper tried to pull away from him. "I need to help my sister."

Tal leaned in, his voice quiet, but Tori could hear him. "The reporters will follow you, dear. Your sister has help. Allow her men to do their jobs. This is a request, habibti. Don't make me command what you know is right."

Piper nodded and sent Tori a small smile. "It's going to be okay." She turned back to the crowd. "I think it's time we gathered the princes for a photo op."

The minute she waved her hand, the nanny brought the two princes forward. Sure enough, everyone's attention immediately went to the adorable royal babies. Her sister and Talib held the boys for pictures as Rafe and Kadir started on damage control.

"I'll try to secure the images, but I can't take every camera." Kade headed for the reporters.

She'd messed everything up.

Tori turned to start back up the stairs. If she were her own client she would tell herself to straighten her dress and paste on a smile and dance with her head held high. It was better to laugh off a mistake than to let the public see you cry. Maybe she could have done it if she'd had any experience with that personally and no one had seen how gauche and graceless she'd been.

Rory gripped her hand. "You're not leaving." 

Anger flared through her. Leaving was better than suffering horrible humiliation. "You don't have a say in what I do."

Callum was suddenly at her side as though ready to stop her should she climb any further up the stairs. "Darling, we need to dance. Smile and talk to the reporters. Nothing happened to you that hasn't happened to every starlet in Hollywood. You had a wardrobe malfunction. It's not the end of the world."

"It's not your boob that's going to be plastered all over the papers tomorrow," she hissed back.

Callum's eyes went arctic cold. "Like hell it's not. Now, stop acting like a brat or I'll throw you over my knee and give the press a real story to report."

Oliver stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching them. "While that might be amusing, I think we should spank her privately. Do I have a vote? We haven't talked about it. Is this a democratic ménage?"

What was Oliver talking about? "Callum can't spank me."

He leaned in, his voice right against her ear. "I can and I will. I already owe you for lying to me about your engagement in London. You'll thank me when it's over. I can be deeply indulgent, but I also know when to take control. You might be clever, love, but I can play a rough game and I always play to win. I might do it with an idiotic grin on my face, but that's a mask. You keep pushing me and you'll meet the real man."

A shiver went down her spine that had only the tiniest thing to do with fear. The rest was pure arousal.

"Come on. We'll put in an appearance. Then the four of us will go somewhere to talk," Rory commanded. It wasn't a suggestion.

The hardness of his tone shocked Tori … but perhaps it shouldn't. After all, Rory had taken over the company when their father died. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Rory had steered the ship while Oliver had gotten married and Callum had played football. He'd been the glue, and when Oliver needed something to occupy his mind after Yasmin's betrayal, Rory had been strong enough to relinquish some of his power to his eldest brother.

"We don't have anything to talk about." But she allowed Rory to lead her off the steps. She was still shaky. At least her ankle was feeling solid. She hadn't sprained anything except her ego. "My brother-in-law sent you a check."

And she'd be repaying him until the end of time.

"Which I promptly tore up," Rory explained, looking so sleek in his tux. If he had a martini in his hand, he would remind her of James Bond. Sophisticated, gorgeous, and dangerous. He threaded her arm through his, stabilizing her. "Those shoes are lovely, but you're going to break a leg in them. You'll need to take them off before we dance."

"I can't take them off. I can't walk around here without shoes."

"Of course you can," Callum said.

"Why do you think it's a problem, Tori?" Oliver asked. "And while I'm asking questions, why does your sister call you Mindy?"

Why was Oliver acting so calmly? And why had he mentioned the word ménage as if it included him?

Rory helped her into the grand ballroom where the orchestra was starting up. "My sister calls me Mindy because it's my first name. I thought Torrance sounded more like a publicist. And I can't go barefoot because it's rude."