Their Virgin Mistress (Masters of Ménage #7)(94)

Talib smiled down at his bride. "I've made up for it, my love. I tie you up as often as possible. I believe our sister is going to do something foolish now."

Hell, yes, she was. She made a break for it. If she could get to the bathroom, she could lock herself in. Pure panic threatened. She sprinted toward the bathroom, her bare feet pounding across the marble.

Before she could make it, a strong arm banded around her middle, pulling her back against a hard, muscled chest.

"Give me a chance, darling. Give me ten minutes alone with you and if you don't agree with everything I have to say, I'll let you go. You can spend your thirty days here and we won't bother you again," Oliver vowed, his breath against her ear.

She breathed in his scent. Spicy and male and clean. It had been less than twenty-four hours since she'd touched him, and she'd missed him like they'd been apart for years. Her body betrayed her, folding back against him. The arm around her middle tightened, and she found herself leaning on his strength. "You can't steal me, Oliver."



       
         
       
        

"I can, but I won't. Give us ten minutes. You owe that to us."

Shame washed over her. He was right about that. Tori wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake. She was so confused, but was she making it better or worse by shutting them out? "All right. But you have to promise you'll let me go at the end."

"If you don't drop to your knees at the end and ask us to take you away, we'll leave you here. The concubine period will expire in thirty days, and this trial marriage will be over. You can tell Talib you refuse the suit and go on with your life."

"We can all go on with our lives," she said.

"Not us," Oliver replied. "I don't know what we'll do, but we'll love you until the day we die."

She turned, squirming her way out of his arms so she could see his face. "You don't use that word, Oliver."

He sighed. "I must. There isn't another word that comes close. I didn't know what it meant until you. Until now. Not really. But I realize love means being brave. Love means taking a chance. I love you. If you leave, I'll lose the best piece of myself."

"If you leave, I'll wait for you to come back," Rory promised. He moved in behind her. "I'll wait however long it takes because there's only one woman in the world for me."

"I'll move to Dallas." Callum put a hand in her hair. "You'll have to see me every day and know that I'm waiting for you to wake up and take what I offer you. What I will only ever offer to you. Look me in the eyes and tell me last night meant nothing. Then maybe, just maybe I can walk away, but I won't be whole again because last night was everything to me. Last night was the night my life really began."

This was why she'd guarded her door. She'd known they would say things to make her melt. To weaken her defenses. To persuade her to take a chance on them-and love.

She would have thirty days to figure out if they could make the marriage work. Thirty days to find out how brave she could be.

Tori dropped to her knees. "I don't need ten minutes. Take me away, Masters. I can't promise that I'll stay, but I will promise that I'll try."

As they smiled down at her, she wondered if she hadn't just sealed her fate.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


Callum stared at the screen of his tablet, wishing he could reach through it and strangle whoever dreamed this shit up on the other side. The limo moved through the small village on the edge of their country estate. It wouldn't be long before they arrived. The flight from Bezakistan had taken them to a private airport where they'd been met by the limo currently whisking them to their solitude. Claire had already arrived and was preparing for their stay. 

He suspected his sister might be their ace in the hole. For the next month, he and his brothers were supposed to be spending time convincing their new bride this marriage could work, but he rather thought Tori would enjoy having another woman to talk to. She'd grown up with a sister. Claire could be like another.

Unfortunately, Claire couldn't clean up the disaster that had been waiting for them when they'd arrived back in the UK and hit the tarmac.

The press had been out in full force. He'd hoped that since Tori's "exposé" had run the day before, the tabloids had found someone new to torment. But Tori was front page news again. Someone had snapped a picture of her at the palace ball wearing an angry sneer while he and his brother surrounded her. The headline read: Gold digger mistress to three of Britain's elite?

How could she be a bloody gold digger? She was the sister-in-law to three of the world's richest men. She had wealth at her fingertips.