“It’s a British thing,” Allie said. By the downward turn of those lush lips, he knew his little slip had upset her. She could rail at him later. In fact, he looked forward to it.

He drained his cup and stood. “Well, ladies, delightful as always, but I must get back to work.”

“Mr. Blake, there are some things we should go over soon.” Allie gave him a hard stare.

“Of course, Miss Campbell. I’m at your disposal.”

Trevor left the conservatory with a smile. But when he walked into his office and saw his father looking over the brass armillary sphere sitting on the bookshelf, the smile turned into a scowl. “What do you want, old man?” He walked to his desk and settled into the chair behind it.

“We need to talk,” Nigel said, spinning one of the rings.

“I can’t imagine why.” He kept his gaze trained on his computer screen.

“Trevor, we’ve done this bit. I know I’ve been a bastard. And I am sorry. For all of it, Son.”

“Well and good. Close the door on your way out, would you?”

Nigel stopped fondling the sphere and walked toward the desk. “Your mother very much wants the wedding to be a family affair.”

“You’ve always been particularly good at affairs.”

Sighing, Nigel fell into a chair with careless grace. “Are you ever going to get over Anna?”

“Oh, do me a favor,” Trevor said, disgusted. Over Anna? He was over that slag long before his father came sniffing around. Still, it was bad form. Man’s code and all that. But what did he expect from such a tosser?

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Trev. And I’m sorry I wasn’t a better father to you. But Mags and I would like to try and make it up to you.”

Trevor batted his lashes. “Are you going to buy me a pony?”

Nigel scratched his jaw with one hand. “I know we haven’t been the best of parents. The memories you have aren’t all pleasant ones, but there were good times, you know.”

“Mmm, yes. Remember my sixth birthday party? In the middle of opening presents, Mother accused you of fucking around. You went tearing off in your sports car, she proceeded to get drunk on champagne and cry hysterically. One for the memory books.”

Nigel rubbed a hand over his mouth and shifted his eyes to the left. “Yes, well, you’re not six anymore. This is for your mother, Son.”

“I’ve missed most of her weddings.” Trevor paused and stroked his chin. “No, I take that back. I’ve missed all of her weddings. Yours too, in fact. Why should this one be any different?”

Nigel stood and straightened his suit jacket, tugged at his cuffs. “You will be there. You will give your mother this, and she will be happy.” With a stiff back he left the office, slamming the door behind him.

Trevor gripped the armrests on the chair and sneered. It was always about their happiness. His mother was little more than an incubator and his father, a sperm donor. Why didn’t they just leave him the hell alone?

When Allie came in seconds later, he hadn’t begun to rein in his anger.

“What’s wrong with your dad? I just ran into him in the hall and he seemed really upset.” She knitted her brow and approached the desk. “Trevor, what happened?”

He tapped a few keystrokes and brought a prospectus up on the screen. “I keep getting fucking interrupted and I’m busy. Get out.” He knew it wasn’t fair to unleash his anger on her, but he didn’t want to be bothered just now. He was tired of his parents and their infernal wedding chatter. Tired of not being able to shag Allison whenever he bloody well wanted. Tired of having so many people invade his office.

Instead of heeding him, she sighed and walked over to the desk, hopped on top of it, and tilted her head forward, looking at his screen. “I talked to your mom today.”

“I’m sure it was a riveting conversation. What do you want?”

“I wanted to remind you to take it easy around Brynn. I don’t want her to think I’m anything but your assistant.”

He still didn’t look at her. This investment expected a twelve percent rate of return. No one could guarantee twelve percent in this economy, no matter how aggressive. He didn’t trust it. And he always trusted his gut. Except when it came to Brian Campbell and his beautiful daughter.

“Fine, no more slipups in front of Brynn.”

“Have you heard from the private detective? Does he have any news about Brad?”

“When I know something, you’ll know something. Are we through?”

She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated. “About the wedding—just because you don’t want to hear about it, doesn’t mean it’s going to go away.”

His mouth kicked up on one side as his gaze took her in from head to toe. “You look good in that color, love. Use that credit card I gave you and go find something in the same shade. You can show me later.” He dismissed her by picking up his BlackBerry and punching out a text.

Allie reached over and grabbed the phone from of his hand. She remained unfazed at his withering glare. “Your mother thinks you hate her, Trevor.”

“She wouldn’t be wrong.” Standing, he reached for the phone and plucked it out of her hands. “I have business to take care of right now, Allison.”

“You have to make this right. I know they hurt you, but she’s your mom.”

He smiled, felt his lips pull up at the edges. “I don’t have to do anything. And I think you’ve forgotten your place in the scheme of things, darling. You’re a fuck toy, not my conscience. Now, run along.”

Chapter 14

Three days. Three days and she hadn’t dropped that plastic smile once, at least not in his presence. It was enough to make him mental. And why didn’t anyone else notice? Even Brynn was oblivious to the fact that her sister was miserable.

And it was his fault.

Trevor knew he’d gone too far the instant he said fuck toy. He’d been cruel, thoughtless. He was a bloody bastard.

After he said it, she’d looked momentarily stricken, then assumed that irksome expression and jumped down from his desk. “You’re right. I’m here for sex. I won’t forget again.” She walked out of his office, the line of her back straight.

He opened his mouth to call her back and decided against it. He could apologize, should, really, but he knew her. She’d give him that horrible grin and tell him it was fine, all was forgiven. She’d be lying, of course.

And she shouldn’t forgive him. He didn’t deserve it.

Three days ago, when she gazed up at him at the indoor pool, those lovely blue eyes had eaten him up. He knew she wanted him, just as he had wanted her. But now she wouldn’t even look at him. Oh, she was accommodating and said all the right things, but she wouldn’t look him in the eye.

That first night, when he’d met up with everyone in the drawing room before dinner, he’d tried to get her attention. But her gaze swept past him, over him, never settling on him. Brynn began thanking him profusely in what he supposed was English as she prattled on about the names of the songs she’d bought with her gift card. He’d tried to look attentive and properly interested in what she had to say, but his eyes kept straying to Allison.

Dinner was a disaster. Nigel had shot Trevor disappointed glances. Allie had just smiled. And ignored him. Mags had kept a conversation going almost single-handedly and was very good at drawing Brynn out of her shell. The girl blossomed under a little bit of female attention. She must miss her mother terribly.

His gaze rested on Allison as she played with her food. How taxing it must have been, putting her life on hold to take care of a dying mother and two sisters. He couldn’t imagine it, couldn’t imagine using all of his focus and energy to take care of someone else. Allie deserved a medal. And all he’d done was hurt her, call her names—foul names.

“Why so moody tonight, dearest?” Mags had asked.