“What do you mean tonight?” Nigel asked. “He’s always been moody, even as a little boy. Would much rather play with his cars and trains than be with people.”

Taking a deep breath, Trevor narrowed his eyes and held his tongue. Brynn was in the room after all, and he didn’t want to scorch her ears. He could have told his father to sod off, could have reminded his mother that the only person he saw for days on end was his grouchy nanny who rarely spoke to him. They didn’t know how he behaved as a child, as they were rarely home. Instead, he smiled at Brynn, turned to Allie, and bowed his head slightly before leaving the room.

For the next three days, he’d insisted on taking tea with Allie and Brynn, forced Allie to take strolls with him in the garden before dinner. And every night he challenged her to a game of chess in the library. He’d tried to provoke her, tease her, eventually got nasty with her. She looked right through him. And smiled.

When they were alone together, she would look anywhere but at him and ask, “Would you like to have sex now, Trevor? I’m here for your pleasure.” It was as impersonal as if she’d asked about the weather. “Is it hot out, Trevor? Would you care for some sunscreen?” With that robotic, goddamned expression firmly in place.

He’d been gobsmacked the first time she said it. And saddened. By the fourth time, he smiled coldly. “When I want sex, you’ll know. The way you’ll be able to tell is when my cock is inside your pussy, Miss Campbell.” She hadn’t asked again.

By Saturday, he’d had enough. He planned on taking her to dinner, leaving Brynn under the watchful supervision of Arnold and Frances. His parents were still in residence, of course, but he wouldn’t leave a goldfish in their care.

“Be in the foyer at seven,” he’d told Allie over tea.

“Yes, of course. Is there anything special you’d like me to wear?” She held her cup aloft and glanced at his tie.

He all but gnashed his teeth. “I’m sure whatever you come up with will be satisfactory.”

Clueless Brynn texted and ate a sandwich. How could she not see the difference in Allie? How could she not see through the fake congeniality? It was baffling.

“No.” He shook his head. “Wear an evening dress.” He let his eyes drift to her breasts and linger there. “If I don’t like it, you’ll change.” He flung himself out of the chair and left the room.

“What’s wrong with him?” he heard Brynn ask.

Good God, what wasn’t wrong with him? He was a miserable fuck and desperate to break through to Allie. Couldn’t take another minute of that polite, phony attitude.

At seven on the dot, she descended the stairs in a dark red, strapless dress that exposed a good deal of cleavage, with her hair piled on top of her head. She was beautiful. Or would be if she’d wipe that gormless expression off her face.

He offered his arm, and she hesitated for the briefest instant before taking it. Out front, Simmons waited next to the limo. Trevor climbed in next to her, and she sat as stiff and taut as a wire.

“Would you care for champagne, Allison?” He lifted the chilled bottle and poured some into a waiting flute.

“No thank you, Trevor. I’m fine.”

Just to get a rise out of her, he handed her the glass with an evil smile of his own. “I insist.”

“All right, then. Thank you.”

Nomore—he wanted to shout the words at her. He’d reached the end of his tether. He missed her, the real her, the one who lectured him and shivered at his touch and was fiercely loyal to her family. He had to do something to shake her out of this. Why couldn’t she just say something vicious to get even?

With narrowed eyes, he poured a glass for himself. “Take down your hair.”

“What?” She looked momentarily startled before the composed look he’d grown to despise settled back over her features. Handing her drink to him, she reached up and took out a few pins, loosening her hair. She ran her fingers through the long strands and then placed her hands in her lap. “Is this better?”

With a critical eye, Trevor studied her face and hair for several seconds. “No, it’s not. Put it back up.”

He settled in his seat and watched her struggle to finger comb her hair and refasten it with the pins. Still, she seemed unflappable.

His gaze swept over her new coif. It was messier than before, and he liked it. Yes, he was tired of this phony pretense. He wanted her back. So, tonight he was going to do everything in his power to make Allison Campbell come unwound.

***

Allie tried to ignore him. He was doing everything he could to get a rise out of her, but she wouldn’t be goaded into an argument. He wanted a mistress, not a girlfriend—sure as hell not a friend. He didn’t want advice about his family. He didn’t want to be called out on his ridiculous behavior toward his parents. Fine. That was just fine with her.

She was a fuck toy, so be it. He wanted sex, she’d give it to him. Without emotion this time. Without aching for him, without feeling anything at all. Because fuck toys didn’t have feelings. And that’s why she was there. To pleasure him whenever he wanted. British bastard.

In the meantime she would be cheerful and pleasant. He thought he could rattle her cage, but he’d underestimated her. He thought he was dealing with an amateur. He must not know she was employee of the month fifteen times in the past four years. When she spoke to him, she pretended he was just another hotel guest and assumed her customer service face—the peaceful, unruffled expression that calmed even the most belligerent tourist.

She ran a hand over her hair. “Is this all right, Trevor?” She let her gaze bounce on him before looking away. That was one thing she couldn’t bring herself to do—look at him. She couldn’t gaze into those light gray eyes and not want to burst into tears.

You’re a fuck toy. Those words had ripped her to shreds. No, she hadn’t just been hurt by what Trevor had said, that was too mild a description. She felt as if she had a gaping chest wound.

The thing was, she had actually started to like him, thought they had a connection, a bond. But Trevor didn’t have bonds with people. He had employees, not friends.

That’s what she was, his employee. So she held on to that customer service smile like it was a lifeline and she was drowning. Because if she didn’t, he’d see how much he’d hurt her.

She felt his cold gaze flash over her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him shrug and raise a brow. “It looks fine, I suppose.”

Allie just smiled at the comment and turned her face toward the partition. She didn’t know where they were going for dinner, didn’t care. In the past three days, she’d interacted as little as possible with Trevor. Except when he’d made her take tea with him, go on ridiculously long, rambling walks in the garden—which under normal circumstances she’d have enjoyed—and forced her to play chess with him until late in the evening.

The last activity had her nerves frayed. She kept expecting him to try and seduce her. And she would give in to him too, because, as she’d reminded herself enough times, that’s why he kept her around. But to actually let him kiss her, touch her, slip inside her body would be almost more than her faux cheerful attitude would be able to take. So, she’d tried to prod him into sex, at least that way she would be in control. “Would you like to have sex now, Trevor?” He’d been shocked the first time she said it. His eyes widened, his cheeks paled. But she kept asking, in a cool, polite voice. But after a while, he’d snapped back and she didn’t dare push him any further. Knowing Trevor, he’d take her up on it out of irritation.

And to be honest, for all her pep talks to herself about having sex with no emotion, she was almost positive she couldn’t do it. The times they’d had together haunted her. She dreamed about them, played them over and over in her mind. She’d never felt so satisfied, so emotionally connected. She knew Trevor didn’t feel the same. He’d told her that in a dozen different ways.