Allie cleared her throat. “Okay. So, what are you going to do about work?”

“When have I ever not worked?” He sounded testy, then sighed. “Sorry. I haven’t been completely honest with you. I, uh, sold off all my tools a couple of months ago. The business has been in trouble for a long time.”

She closed her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “And I guess I didn’t want to admit I’m a failure.”

“That’s not true. Don’t say that.”

“It is true. Anyway, I’ve started doing some odd jobs for a friend, fixing up some rental properties, repairing old appliances on the side. It doesn’t pay much, but since Mr. Blake has forgiven the loan and offered to pay off the medical bills…Allie, you can’t know what a relief this is.” He let out a sob and sniffed a couple of times. “Sorry, I just can’t believe he’s doing this. Thank him for me.”

Allie felt a lot of things toward Trevor, but gratitude wasn’t one of them. “I’ll come by tomorrow and check in.”

“By the way, we’re out of paper towels. And coffee filters.”

“Paper towels are under the sink and coffee filters are in the pantry, third shelf down.” She pressed her lips together. He was going to fall apart without her. This was a mistake, moving in with Trevor. But what choice did she have?

***

Allie was awakened by tapping, then a rattle of the door handle. Disoriented, she rubbed her eyes and tried to figure out where she was. Right, Trevor Blake’s house. She stumbled out of bed and unlocked the door. Standing on the other side of it was a middle-aged, round-faced, cheerful bundle of energy with curly red hair.

“Good morning, miss,” she said in an English accent. But hers wasn’t fancy, like Trevor’s and Arnold’s. “I’m Frances. Sorry I wasn’t here yesterday to greet you proper. My day off.” Clad in a black dress and black tennis shoes, she hustled into the room and pulled back the curtains, flooding the place with light.

“Nice to meet you,” Allie said before she walked back to bed and huddled under the blankets. She couldn’t do cheerful this morning, she was too exhausted.

“Time to rise and shine. Mr. Blake is waiting on you.”

Allie groaned and checked the time. Seven o’clock wasn’t early, but she’d spent the night in tears. Her eyes felt swollen and grainy. “Tell Mr. Blake to stuff it.” She pulled the covers over her head.

Frances laughed. “Oh, I won’t be doing that. Come on now, love.” She played tug-of-war with the blankets but managed to yank them out of Allie’s clutched hands. “You need to get up. Mr. Blake says you have a full day ahead of you.”

Allie glared at Frances but stopped herself. It wasn’t Frances’s fault she was in this mess. Sitting up, she pushed a stray piece of hair out of her face. “Okay, I’ll be down in a few.”

“I’ll have a nice cup of coffee waiting for you. How do you take it, love?”

She was beginning to like Frances. “Lots of cream and sugar, please.”

As Allie climbed out of bed, she had to wonder what Frances and Arnold thought about her. Did they know she was Trevor’s mistress? She was probably one in a long line of women who stayed in this room, servicing Trevor Blake. She shouldn’t care. He’d be on to the next girl soon, and Allie could get back to her family.

She washed quickly and changed into a pair of faded jeans and a blue T-shirt. Screw the makeup. If Trevor Blake didn’t like her face in its natural state, he could suck it.

Just like she had sucked his finger last night. He’d stroked his hand absently up and down her back as she took him in her mouth. His hand against her skin…

No, focus. She couldn’t afford to get distracted. He was waiting on her, and she needed a clear head. She trotted down the stairs and ran into Frances.

“I was about to come and get you. Mr. Blake is getting a mite peevish. Follow me, dear.”

“Aren’t we going to the dining room?”

“No, until last night, we hadn’t used it in years.” She came to a stop in front of a doorway that opened to a blue and white room. It seemed cheerful and homey—and not a knickknack in sight.

Allie poked her head in the door and the rich smell of coffee called to her. Trevor was already seated at the table, BlackBerry in hand.

“Don’t stand there hovering, Miss Campbell. You may have all day, but I assure you, I do not.” He never looked up from his phone as he spoke.

She sat at the opposite end of the table, as far away from him as she could get. Arnold waited by a sideboard.

“What would you like for breakfast, miss?”

Trevor set aside his phone and looked up. “Give her some of everything, Arnold.”

She glared at him. “Hey, English, I’m in the room, and I can answer for myself.”

He quirked a brow. “You’re a bright little ray of sunshine this morning, Miss Campbell. And do sit next to me. We have things to discuss and I feel as if I’m looking at you from across a football pitch.”

With a sigh, she moved down the length of the table, but before she could pull out a chair, Arnold was there, pulling it out for her.

Frances placed a cup of steaming coffee on the table, and Arnold gave her a full plate of bacon, eggs, sausages, and toast. She smiled at them. “Thank you.”

“That will be all for now,” Trevor said. “You’ve got quite a fan club going, you know.” He nodded toward the door that Frances and Arnold had exited.

“I’m sure they like all your mistresses.” She didn’t look at him as she placed her white linen napkin on her lap.

“Perhaps. And while the top of your head is as delightful as the rest of you, eyes on me.”

Picking up a piece of toast, she lifted her head. “Yes?”

“You need to sign these.” He set a stack of papers in front of her. “My lawyer put these helpful little pink strips to show you where.”

She dropped the toast and wiped her hands. After eyeing the papers with suspicion, she peered up at him. “What are they?”

“You said you wanted everything in writing. This states that I’m paying off all your family debt and in exchange, you will grant me whatever favors I desire.” Holding the pen, he smiled. “No matter how perverse.”

Chapter 4

Allie gasped. “It does not say that.”

“Read it if you don’t believe me.”

She could, but what difference would it make? That’s exactly what she was doing: giving him sexual favors in return for money. Basically, she was attesting to the fact that she was a whore. She snatched the pen from his hand and signed next to all the pink strips.

“Excellent.” He handed her the BlackBerry he’d been fiddling with. “I’ve programmed in my numbers.” He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a credit card. “And I have a personal shopper waiting for you. Simmons will take you anywhere else you need to go.” He scanned her Get Lucky in Vegas T-shirt. “I took the liberty of compiling a list.”

“You did what?” she asked, still reeling from the sex contract. Now he was going to dictate what she wore? “You made me a shopping list?”

He pushed back from the table. “No appreciation necessary. Seeing you in a natural fiber will be thanks enough.” He scooped up the papers she’d signed and patted her head as he left the room.

“Wait,” she called, but he didn’t come back. Damn him.

She rubbed the top of her head where he’d patted her. Allie was getting tired of his condescension. But what could she do about it? She’d just signed papers to make her role official. She couldn’t back out now.

Maybe that’s why he hadn’t wanted sex last night. Maybe he was waiting to get all the details down in legalese.

Fingering the embossed numbers on the credit card, she frowned. Some women would kill for this opportunity, to live here, to have all their expenses paid—to have sex with Trevor Blake. She wasn’t one of them.