Good God. He was turning into a right wanker. Damn near every waking thought was centered on Allison and how to get her naked.

Then she walked into his office and did it for him.

When she had hung up his phone, he’d been in the middle of discussing expansion plans with a small bakery. It wasn’t a terribly important call, even though he’d told her it was. But business trumped everything else. Even Allison.

Until he realized she was drunk.

And then she started taking off her clothes, one horrible uniformed piece at a time, all the way down to the sheer bra and knickers. Her breasts were truly stunning, a goddamned work of art.

If she hadn’t been drunk… But she had been drunk. Then she started crying. Tears undid him every time. Allison’s tears had gutted him.

But he’d told her from the beginning he wanted all of her attention. She hadn’t listened. He’d kept his end of the bargain, paying off her debts, letting her keep the house. Was it so wrong that he expected something in return?

Perhaps he really was the asshole she accused him of being. He’d gotten her fired, after all. It took a two-minute phone call to the casino owner. Two minutes, and he’d altered her life. Again. But he wanted her here, not stuck in that hellhole, miles off the Strip. When she’d looked at him with those accusing blue eyes, he actually felt a little guilty. He rubbed his chest as he held the bedroom door open for her and followed her to the top of the stairs.

He was doing her a favor, really. She needed money. He had money. Wasn’t living here, taking tea with him, sunning herself by the pool much more pleasant than wearing the green waistcoat and dealing with tourists? Of course it was. She was just being stubborn.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, and they descended the stairs. He savored the feel of her body pressed against his. In her room, he’d had to restrain himself from stripping her out of that robe and touching every single inch of beautiful, pale skin.

He led her through the hallway and she preceded him into the drawing room, where his parents waited. But he kept hold of her hand, stroked his thumb across her palm. He didn’t want to let go.

“There you are, children,” Nigel said, leaning on the mantel. “We were about to come looking for you.”

That’s exactly what Trevor had been afraid of.

“Don’t worry. Mags and I know what it’s like, don’t we darling? Can’t keep your hands off each other, eh?”

His mother looked at her ex and future husband and smiled.

Grinding his teeth, Trevor fought for patience. When the hell were these two going to get tired of whatever game they were playing and get out of his bloody house? He told Arnold to find out their plans, but they had been just as cagey with his butler as they’d been with him. They insisted on blathering about a wedding that would never take place.

Mags rose from the sofa and walked to Allie, taking her other hand and pulling her from Trevor’s side. Like a possessive child, he wanted to yank her back. Why he had such a stupid reaction, he didn’t know. But it made him feel out of sorts.

“I’m so glad you’re rested, dearest,” Mags said.

Trevor ignored both of his parents and moved to the bar. “What would you like to drink, Miss Campbell?”

“Soda water, please.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to continue this afternoon’s bender? I could line up some tequila shots for you.”

“Just soda water.”

“So, Allie, I’ve decided that you”—Mags paused for dramatic effect—“should be my chief bridesmaid.”

“Um…what is that exactly?” Allie sat at one end of the sofa and accepted the glass from Trevor without looking at him. “Like a maid of honor?”

Trevor perched on the armrest next to her, his leg brushing her arm. He reached out and touched a strand of her hair, wrapping it around his finger like a spring. She smelled of citrus and flowers, and he inhaled deeply as he gazed at the shades of gold shining through it.

Mags touched Allie’s knee. “Exactly. Won’t it be fun? We can have a hen night.”

Allie twisted and looked up at Trevor. “Bachelorette party,” he translated.

“Oh, well, I don’t know how long I’m going to be here.”

“Nonsense, darling, Trevor is half in love with you already. I have a feeling you might be here permanently.”

He unwound the strand of hair he’d been toying with and dropped it. “Don’t be stupid, Mother.”

“Ow.” Allie glared at him over her shoulder and rubbed her head.

He donned a neutral expression as he sipped his scotch. “Apologies, Miss Campbell.”

“How could he not be in love with her?” Nigel asked. “Look at the girl. She’s perfectly lovely.”

“And given half a chance, you’d fuck her sideways.” Trevor smiled coldly at Nigel. “Yes, Father, we know. If there’s a woman in the room, you need to prove that your cock still works. We get it.” Trevor wanted nothing more than to pick the man up and throw him out of his house.

Nigel shot Trevor a disappointed frown. “There’s no need for that, Son. It’s all in the past.”

Mags sat up straight. “We should go in to dinner. I’m famished.”

Chapter 10

Allie nodded politely as Mags went on about dresses, shoes, cakes, and bouquets, but her mind was on Trevor and his father. Despite his bland expression, Trevor had sounded so bitter. Was he upset because his father slept with other women in general or one woman in particular? The next time she saw Frances, Allie would pump her for information. She had turned on The Blake Family soap opera, but started watching in the middle of an episode and was confused by the characters and plotlines. Of course, she could ask Trevor for details, but he’d only say something nasty and shocking, so what was the point?

“How does that sound?” Mags asked.

Allie tried to remember what they had been talking about.

Before she could respond, Trevor spoke. “She wasn’t paying attention, Mother. If you were the slightest bit aware of anyone other than yourself, you would have seen Allie’s eyes glaze over ten minutes ago.”

Mags’s smile dimmed just a little. “Sorry, darling, I forgot that wedding plans are tedious for everyone but the bride.”

“You’ve done it enough times, you should remember. Why not get married by an Elvis impersonator and quit bothering the rest of us?” Trevor said.

Allie glanced at him. Despite his biting words, his face was perfectly pleasant.

“Sorry, Mags,” Allie said. “I do want to know all the details. My mind just wandered for a second. Now, what are you wearing?”

“We’ll go shopping tomorrow, dearest, and pick it out. We’ll pick out your dress too.”

Oh God, not more shopping. Allie managed a smile. “Sure.”

“Allie doesn’t like shopping, Mother.”

Mags appeared confused for a second, then began to laugh. “Don’t be silly. All women love to shop.”

The rest of the dinner passed slowly. Mags chatted away and Allie tried to appear interested, Trevor interrupted with biting, sarcastic remarks, and Nigel remained quiet. When it was finally over, Trevor excused himself and went to his office. Allie, not the slightest bit tired after her drunken nap, knew she couldn’t stand any more of Mags’s cheerful prattling and Nigel’s brooding silence.

She excused herself and, on her way to her room, stopped by the library on the second floor and snagged a couple of books relating to Spanish daggers. She wanted to know why all of these collectibles were so damn interesting to Trevor. Then she changed clothes and called her dad.

“Hello?” His voice sounded anxious.

“Hey, Dad, have you heard from Monica? I called her this morning and left a message, but I haven’t heard back.”

He sighed. “No, I thought you might be her.”

Damn that kid. “Let me know if she calls?” Allie asked.

“Yeah, same here.”

She asked to speak to Brynn and flipped through the dagger book until her sister picked up the phone.