“I don’t give a fuck about the wedding. You hung up on me.” He circled her. She turned her head, trying to track his movements.

He stopped behind her and whispered in her ear. “I think you deserve to be punished.”

She nodded. “Probably.”

He stepped in front of her. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“Just more family drama. The kind you don’t like hearing about, so please, continue with the lecture.”

His lips twisted as he raised one brow. “I had something more exciting than a lecture in mind. But it’s no fun when you’re like this.” He walked back to the desk and sat. “I’m waiting.”

With a sigh, she flopped herself down in the chair across from him. “Monica came home with Brad the Douche. She packed her stuff and is moving in with him. I met him.”

“I assume since you so eloquently referred to him as a douche, your fears about him weren’t alleviated?”

“No. He’s steeped in bad boy. He’s every teen girl’s fantasy.”

“Did you manage to find out his last name?”

“No.”

With his elbows on the desk, he linked his fingers, his eyes narrowed in thought. “What about a plate number?”

Allie blinked. “Like a license plate?” She slapped her forehead. “Shit, I didn’t even think of that.” God, she was a fuckup. First, she’d left Brynn high and dry this morning, then she’d blown it with Monica. She should have looked out the window and made a note of what the douche was driving.

“It’s all right, Allison.”

She leaped to her feet. “No, Trevor, it’s not all right. I was supposed to make Brynn breakfast this morning. I know that you don’t understand how important that is, but trust me, it’s important. She needs me right now, and I’m not there for her. My other sister is shacking up with a loser and dropping out of high school. What is she supposed to do with her life if she doesn’t even have a high school education?” At some point, she’d started pacing back and forth in front of the desk. “And I don’t know what to do about any of it. So please, oh wise one, who lives in a fucking mansion and has servants and weird-ass collectibles and a garden that costs more to water than I made in a year, how is everything all right?” She stopped to glare at him.

He glared back and rose from his seat. “It’s not my job to fix your life any more than it’s your job to fix your family’s. And I’ve worked very hard for everything I have. And those weird-ass collectibles, as you put it, were my grandfather’s. I don’t need to apologize to you or anyone else for what I’ve acquired. So, fuck off.”

She reeled back, felt like she was gasping for air. The man had no compassion, no human decency. Of course, it was no wonder, considering the two crazies who didn’t bother to raise him. Still, that didn’t excuse his stupid platitudes. She pointed a finger at him. “You fuck off, English.” She turned and stalked to the door, but when she tried to open it, she couldn’t.

“It’s locked,” he said coldly.

She spun around. “I know it’s locked. I can see it’s locked. I don’t need you and your snotty British ass to tell me it’s locked. Okay?” She unlocked the door, threw it open, and marched to her room.

***

Trevor thought about taking dinner in his office. It’s what he was used to, and it would be a hell of a lot better than eating another meal with his parents. He bloody well didn’t want to see Allison either. How dare she get angry with him because her life was shambolic? It wasn’t his fault.

Well, it’s partly your fault.

Fine. So he’d insisted that she come live with him instead of at home, where she could serve Brynn breakfast. What the bloody hell was so important about making breakfast anyway? Wasn’t her father at least capable of doing that much? For God’s sake, even Trevor could make toast and tea.

And yes, he had her car towed. And got her fired.

But Allie’s life had been falling apart before Trevor came along. He’d forgiven her father’s debt, paid off the house, paid the hospital bills. In fact, now that he thought about it, he was a goddamn saint. She should be thanking him. Instead, she paced in front of his desk, ranting like a madwoman.

No, he wouldn’t cower in his office. This was his house, and the rest of them could go hang. They were the interlopers.

He shrugged on his suit jacket, adjusted his tie, and left his office. He found them in the drawing room, sipping on cocktails. His cocktails. His drawing room.

“Trevor, darling, come join us.” Mags patted the sofa next to her. She wore a bright blue frock that showed too much cleavage, as usual. A large sapphire and diamond necklace decorated her neck.

“What can I get you to drink, Trev?” Nigel stood next to the drinks cart, an obnoxious grin on his face. Wanker.

“I’ll fix myself something.” He flicked a glance at Allison, sitting on the other sofa, her posture rigid. She made a point of not looking at him.

Things had been so good between them. What the hell had happened in less than twenty-four hours?

Her family issues, of course.

He gave his father a vicious smile and fought the urge to shove the old man out of the way. “Do excuse me, Father.”

Nigel stepped aside. “Was just telling the ladies that we should go out for dinner some night this week. Vegas has some bloody decent restaurants. Maybe take in a show afterward. What do you say?”

Trevor splashed two fingers of single malt into a tumbler and took a healthy swallow. “I don’t know why you people continue to include me in your plans. If I wanted your company, I’d have invited you here. When did you say you were leaving again?”

Nigel just toasted him. “Cheers, Trev.”

Trevor ignored him and walked to the sofa. He dropped down beside Allie, his hip fitting snugly next to hers.

She pressed her lips together and glanced, not at him, but in the opposite direction, toward the mantel. “Do you mind? You’re in my personal space.”

He leaned toward her and whispered, “My cock was very much in your personal space last night. And you, darling, loved it.” That got her attention.

She swung her head toward him. “Shut up,” she said through clenched teeth.

“What’s going on? You two having a tiff?” Nigel propped himself on the armrest next to Mags.

“I think they are, darling. Trevor was very cross this morning.” Mags sipped her champagne, her eyes fluttering between them.

“It’s time to eat.” Trevor stood and offered his arm to Allie.

Glaring at him, she stood and slipped her arm through his. As they made their way to the table, Trevor leaned toward her. “I keep thinking about you, naked on the sofa. Shall we meet in the media room again this evening?”

“Fuck off,” she said, her voice so low he barely heard her.

“That’s exactly what I’m proposing.”

Once in the dining room, he pulled out her chair and took his own seat at the head of the table. Nigel seated Mags, and Arnold served the salad.

“Allie and I went shopping for the wedding today. Are you still thinking about kilts for you and Trevor, love?” Mags gazed up at Nigel.

“Haven’t decided. What do you think, Trev?”

Allie smiled at him. Her fake smile. The one that danced on his last nerve.

“I think you would look great in a kilt, Trev.” She turned to Mags. “And have you told Trevor your wedding plans for the garden? I was thinking that tree next to the grotto might need to come down. That way, you’d have an unobstructed view of the waterfall.” She forked a piece of lettuce in her mouth, looking rather smug as she chewed.

Sticking his hand beneath the table, he grasped her knee and squeezed gently. She grunted, her mouth full. “I don’t see that as an option, do you, Miss Campbell?” He squeezed again, a little firmer this time as she tried to pull away.

“Oh, the grotto sounds lovely. And the waterfall would look beautiful in pictures, wouldn’t it, love?” Mags asked Nigel.