Their Virgin Mistress (Masters of Ménage #7)(90)

As much as he'd hated his wife, it had been the thought of an innocent woman-his friend-dying that forced him to his feet.

He hadn't been weak after all. He'd made a choice, so he'd fought. And he'd won. Now he knew the truth: When his world had shattered, when death had been whispering along his spine, he'd told it to go to hell. He'd tried to do the right thing even at the cost of his own life.

He rested his cheek against the floor, the shock of revelation bringing him full circle. He was once again on the floor, his body weak with memory, but now there was a difference.

Oliver Thurston-Hughes knew he would get up again. He would fight.

His father had told him once that a man didn't know the sum of his soul until he faced death. He hadn't been measured and found wanting after all. He'd fought for himself and for Alea. He'd only survived since because he hadn't really decided to start living again.

That changed now.

When he got to his feet, he felt like a different human being. Some weight had been lifted, and for the first time since that terrible day, he could look at himself in the mirror with pride.



       
         
       
        

He'd fought. He was a fighter.

And now he had something worth fighting for.

Tori.

He washed his face and calmed, some peace and confidence settling deep inside him. The trouble was, he didn't just have to fight for Tori. He had to get around Talib and all those doors she'd locked between them.

Luckily, he knew a little bit about being a sneaky bastard.

Once he'd been a man who knew how to get what he wanted. He wanted Tori Glen. She would be his prize for fighting and coming out victorious. For finally moving on.

He straightened his shirt and walked back into the parlor. Alea was standing at the door, talking to her husband. Ah, his guard. The first hurdle. He knew how to handle the guard.

"I need to speak to my brothers," he said politely. He never yelled when politeness would work.

Landon Nix frowned. "I'm sorry. I'm supposed to keep you in here until it's time for your plane to depart. It's only a few hours. Do you need something?"

He glanced Alea's way. "Please. I won't try to speak to Tori. I simply need to be with my brothers. Talking about that day … " He drew in a shuddering breath. "I need their company."

She took his hand and started down the hall.

Lan cursed and followed, but he didn't try to stop them again.

All the while, Oliver's brain churned, his heart hammering because he had the solution-and it was so simple. Tori had done them the favor of coming to the palace. Oliver intended to use that in order to help her past her pride and facilitate the ending that would make them all happy.

They were in Bezakistan, and the rules were different here. Tori really should have remembered that. Likely, she'd thought he and his brothers were polite Brits. But Oliver had been married to a Bezakistani national, so they'd granted him dual citizenship. That made him Bezakistani, too.

He had rights here that sweet Tori might not be aware of. He doubted she would believe he'd ever exercise them. But oh, he intended to.

She would belong to him and his brothers again because they would take her-with Talib's blessing. Because the sheikh would never violate or refuse the laws of his own country.

Lan opened the door to Callum and Rory's suite.

Alea hugged him. "I hope you find some peace, Oliver. I know it didn't work with Tori, but there's a woman out there for someone as kind as you."

He schooled his expression into something suitably bland. He needed to play the pathetic, depressed Oliver for a few minutes more because he didn't want to tip anyone off about his plans … just in case.

"I hope you're right." He managed a broken murmur. 

Alea kissed his cheek as though he was fragile and promised to call. Then she left, and he was alone with his brothers.

"I know you're upset with Tori, but you have to listen, Ollie." Callum came at him, pure willpower shining in his eyes.

Why had he ever thought his brother was laidback? Callum was only laidback when he didn't care. When something mattered, he pursued what he wanted with a singular purpose.

"No, I need you to sit down."

Callum clenched his jaw. "I'm not going to listen to reasons why we should leave her and walk away from Tori. I'm going to Dallas. That's where she'll be."

"I'm going with him." Rory nodded, his decision made.

Thank god. He'd thought he might have to convince his youngest brother that Tori was the woman for them, but it looked like Callum had done that job. "None of us are going to Dallas."

His brothers began to argue.