Their Virgin Mistress iTunes Page 2

  Oliver Thurston-Hughes clenched his fists and tried to quell his urge to punch someone. Then again, a day rarely went by that he didn’t feel it. “What do you mean?”

  “I need a place to stay temporarily.” His younger brother Callum leaned forward, wearing an earnest look on his sun-bronzed face. “Just until the crack pot births her spawn and I get the results of the DNA test. Apparently, I can’t force her to do one until the nipper makes his actual appearance, so we’ve got some months to wait.”

  Oliver bristled. “You’re talking about a child, potentially your own.”

  Yet his brother treated the baby as if he or she meant nothing.

  Callum’s remark gnawed at Oliver’s brain. The rage that constantly seethed inside him rose. He breathed through the violent urge but couldn’t deny the fact that he’d enjoy beating his brother right now. Usually he preferred strangers, but the former footballer would be a nice change of pace and provide a good challenge besides.

  Drawing in a steadying breath, Oliver stood and looked out the rain-splattered window over St. James’s Park from the office that had once been his father’s. What would Albert Thurston-Hughes do if he could see his three sons now? Likely shoot the lot of them and start over.

  Outside, everything looked peaceful, and he tried to find his calm. A light drizzle fell. Down below, pedestrians hustled about. Women held umbrellas over their prams as they rushed to shelter where their babies would be dry and warm.

  Oliver gripped the sill. His children would be too old for prams now—or would have been if that bitch had allowed them to be born.

  “Nothing against the baby,” Callum assured. “But I couldn’t possibly have fathered that insane woman’s child.”

  He turned back to his younger brother, brow raised. “So you’re telling me you didn’t sleep with her?”

  Callum paused, giving Oliver precisely the answer he’d expected.

  With a shake of his head, he stared out the window again, refusing to look at his brother. The rage grew, and he needed to find an outlet to release it. He’d been a perpetual volcano set to explode ever since he’d realized Yasmin had betrayed him and he’d learned his whole life was a lie. “You have a flat worth millions. Why can’t you stay there?”

  “Because she knows where I live and keeps popping ’round,” Callum admitted. “She’s mental, I tell you.”

  “Maybe you should have figured that out before you shagged her,” a familiar feminine voice offered.

  Oliver turned slightly to find Rory and their sister, Claire, entering the room. The entire family was now here. Hurrah for him. Younger than Callum and older than Rory, Claire tended to be the voice of wisdom. Most of the time that was a good thing, but on the days when pent-up violence nipped at his gut, Oliver didn’t want to hear reason.

  “Then again, he’s always liked the crazy ones,” Claire went on.

  Oliver glanced back out the window. Below, a yellow umbrella caught his eye. He was fooling himself if he thought for an instant that he stared out the window because he couldn’t stand to look at Callum. He was staring because he was waiting for her.

  It seemed that everyone else in London carried a black umbrella. Tori looked like a bright canary amongst all the crows. She disappeared as she walked into the building. Only then did Oliver turn to the others and step into the middle of the room to join them.

  She was safe now. He could focus on the meeting at hand.

  Oliver had no idea what he would do when she returned to the States and her fiancé. Watching Tori Glen had become his favorite pastime. After his last brawl, he’d come away with a black eye and split lip. He’d told Tori he had gotten pissed at a pub and started a fight. Oliver still wondered if he should admit that he’d beaten the holy hell out of a bloke who’d been stalking her. When she’d gone down the wrong alley, the bastard had whipped out a big knife and followed.

  Tori had never noticed that he’d put her would-be attacker in the hospital. Instead, she’d just blithely gone her way. The following day, she’d told him about her misadventure, laughing that she still sometimes got lost in London.

  She was going to be the death of him, and he wasn’t so sure he minded.

  Only two things kept him from taking her bright light for himself: One was James Fenway of Texas, her loving and endlessly patient fiancé. The second was the fact that he was a black hole, which tended to consume and destroy all light in its path.

  “I didn’t know she was cray cray before I slept with her. Also, I might have had a wee bit to drink. However, I can assure you that the baby is not mine,” Callum said.

  “Cray cray? What is that nonsense you’re spouting?” Oliver glared at his younger brother.

  Callum waved him off. “It’s an expression Tori uses. I very much like the way she talks. In fact, I appreciate the way she does everything. We need to discuss her.”

  “First, explain how this can’t be your child,” Claire demanded.

  “I’d like to hear this as well.” Rory took a seat beside Callum. “You know condoms break. Did she tell you she was on the pill? I know you think no one would ever lie to their favorite footballer, but really... Do you even watch telly?”

  Callum groaned. “Yes, Mummy and Daddy, I did use a condom, and I know how it feels when one breaks. This one stayed solid. But I know this baby isn’t mine because I haven’t had sex with the woman in almost a year. If fact, I haven’t slept with anyone since the injury.”

  Oliver felt his jaw drop. “You’ve been celibate all this time? Impossible. Unless something is wrong. Anything we don’t know? Has the medication adversely affected your…sex drive?”

  Callum chuckled, his expression open, happy even. Oliver didn’t understand how his brother had survived such a backbiting, throat-slitting profession with his ability to smile like that still intact but he appreciated it.

  “No. Little Cal is in perfect working order, thank you. I’ll admit that at first I was somewhat depressed, but I’ve come out the other side of that. I haven’t shagged anyone because I’m only interested in one woman, and until very recently, she was off limits. But did you note that I couldn’t possibly have fathered whatever beast is in Thea’s womb? She claims she’s two months pregnant. I will admit to seeing her at a party at Reggie’s a couple of months back. She started the creepy stalker stuff then. But my willy stayed firmly behind my zip all night.”

  Oliver sighed with relief and sat behind his desk. That was one worry out of his way. His younger brother might make a hash of his life on a regular basis, but he was honest about it. The tabloids would calm down once the results of the DNA test were in. Directly after, they could ensure the woman stayed away from Callum. “All right, then. You can stay at the Heights. There’s a vacant one-bedroom, I believe.”

  He couldn’t miss the way Callum’s whole face lit up as though being told he could go from his posh digs in Chelsea to a nondescript building that temporarily housed visiting workers was a godsend. “Brilliant. I’ll take my suitcases over there tonight. You have no idea how grateful I am, Oliver. I promise once this is all over, you’ll see I’m a changed man.”

  “Happy to hear you’re in proper working order…” Rory stared at Callum with narrowed eyes. “But who are you interested in? It best not be the woman I told you to stay the bloody hell away from.”

  Wearing a calming expression, Claire stood, stepping between them. “Stop it, both of you. Sit down and work this out like brothers.”

  “Have you touched her?” Rory ignored his sister, leaping to his feet, fists at his sides.

  “Not yet,” Cal admitted. “But I intend to very soon.”

  Rory looked ready to kill. “Don’t you dare.”

  Oliver held up a hand. “I’m a bit confused. Who are you two arguing over?” He frowned at Rory. “I thought you were seeing some actress.”

  “I was,” his youngest brother admitted. “I broke it off. It was never serious.”

  “I’ll touch her if I want to.�
� Callum ignored him to warn Rory, then turned to Oliver. “He’s seeing at least three different women. Or rather, he’s seen at least three so far this week.”

  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.”

  Twin flags of red stained his face. “I was planning to.”

  “Don’t. The last thing we need is for you to be seen with another woman when you’ve supposedly already got one pregnant.”

  “Fine, but I’m ready to move on with my life. I’m not waiting forever. Tell me when we’re meeting with Tori.” Callum stood to leave and headed for the door, looking back at Oliver. “None of us blames you. What happened with Yasmin was terrible, but none of it was your fault. I’ll do whatever I can to help right this ship.”

  The door closed behind him, and Rory stood. “I will, too. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

  Oliver was left alone with his sister. He rather wished she’d left with the lads.

  “What are you doing, Ollie?” She moved across the room, settling into the chair by his desk.

  He flipped open a binder. “I’m reading through the latest R&D reports.”

  “That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.” She crossed her legs at the ankle, every bit the elegant British lady. “You weren’t in a pub fight. If you’re going to lie, at least get your facts straight. The pub you mentioned was closed that evening due to a small fire in the kitchen.”

  He stared at his sister—not as a brother, but as a man who didn’t like having his secrets pried into. “You checked up on me?”

  “I have to. You lie. And before you tell me it’s none of my business, consider that you’ve just been grilling Callum and Rory about their personal lives. Now you weren’t in a pub fight that evening. Tell me what really happened.”

  He didn’t want to give Claire anything else to worry about. “Nothing.”

  “You sent that man to the hospital.” She bounced her Prada heel against the plush carpet as she spoke, almost punctuating her every accusation. “I started to put it together a few days ago. I watched you follow Tori after work. I didn’t mean to. I happened to be on the street when I noticed her walking toward Westminster Station, then saw you dash after her. I was curious since you’d said not half an hour before that you were heading home. You never go home that way. Imagine my surprise when you got on the Line 12 bus. She didn’t see you, did she? At first, I thought you two had some kind of assignation planned.”

  Oliver felt the blood drain from his face. “Did you follow me?”

  “Yes, in a taxi.”

  “Tell me you stayed in the cab.”

  “I would love to, but I’m afraid my curiosity got the better of me.”

  “You walked around Peckham by yourself?”

  “Never mind that.” Claire waved him off. “That thug was waiting for Tori, Oliver. It wasn’t random, but you knew that. Right? You were following her because you knew she was in danger.”

  Her words nearly knocked Oliver over. He’
d known no such thing.

  “What do you mean he was waiting for Tori?” He’d seen the man creep up behind her. “She said she’d intended to visit a friend and got lost. She went down the wrong street and ended up in an alley where a predator awaited some unsuspecting prey.”

  Claire reared back. “You didn’t notice that man followed her from Westminster on to the bus and then off when they reached Peckham?”

  He hadn’t noticed anything but Tori. He’d been utterly fixated on her until the big man with the knife had crept after her in the alley. “How did he get between us?”

  “He seemed to know the area. Somehow, he beat you there.” She shook her head. “If you weren’t trying to protect Tori, then why were you following her, Oliver?”

  He didn’t have a reply and tried to answer his sister’s question with a shrug.

  She pursed her lips in displeasure. “I was shocked by what you did to that man. When did you learn to fight like that?”

  “Like what?” An animal?

  Oliver stood and turned away from her. He’d never wanted any of them to see that side of him. Every day he had to fight harder to control it.

  “You nearly killed him. Even when he was down, you kept beating him until the police came.”

  “Are you the one who called them?” He’d been lost in blood rage, beating the man senseless for even having the notion to hurt Tori. Somewhere deep down he’d known the bloke was done, but he’d kept at it.

  Oliver suspected he’d kill someone one of these days. Then he would get what he deserved.

  “Yes. I’ll admit you truly frightened me for a minute. I needed to think about what I saw. I called the police because I didn’t want you to do something we’d all regret. I also noticed you didn’t stay around.”

  He’d fled when he heard the sirens. He’d felt the blood pumping in his veins and he’d run. For a brief moment, he’d felt alive again. “I should frighten you. To answer your questions, I followed Tori because I’m a pervert and can’t seem to help myself. I kept hitting him because I was in a blind rage. I get them every now and then, ever since…”