“You’re shopping with my mother, then?”
“You got it, Slick.” She leaned back over the tray of goodies and picked up another toast point, this one with pâté. She nibbled the edge. “Oh, this is fantastic. The caviar was horrible, but the pâté is delish.”
She heard a long, deep sigh. “Don’t ever call me Slick again, Miss…Allison. And the way you’re moaning over that pâté has me as hard as a rock. Why don’t you come home and take care of that for me?” Suddenly, she felt lighter. He’d been affected by the hot sex too. So glad to know she wasn’t alone.
She smiled and sipped. “I think I’ll stay right here. Besides, your mother is picking out a bridesmaid’s dress for me.”
“There’s not going to be a wedding.”
“She wants to have it in your garden. And you should see the dress she plans to wear. It’s barely there and fire-engine red. Sorry, English, but I think there’s going to be a wedding. And if your mother has her way, you’ll be wearing a kilt.” She smiled and hung up the phone. It was nice to get one over on him for a change.
Mags came back with a one-shouldered, ivory, beaded mini dress. “What about this, Allie, love?”
“I thought you were going with the red dress, Mags.”
“Not for me, for you, dearest.” Then she got a thoughtful look on her face. “Although, it is my size.” She walked back over to the mirror and held it in front of her. She sighed. “No, this is for you. I’ll get one in blue.”
***
At two o’clock, Mags was still going strong and showed no signs of letting up. She actually liked trying on clothes. Allie left her in the capable hands of the saleswoman and let Simmons drive her to her home.
When he held the car door open for her, he tipped his head. “Just let me know when you’re ready to be picked up.”
Allie let herself into the house and glanced at the cluttered living room—clothes, shoes, newspapers covered every surface along with a fine coating of dust. In the kitchen, dirty pans littered the sink, there were cracked eggshells on the counter, and two bags of trash sat next to the back door.
Seriously? Her dad couldn’t even take out the trash?
Trevor was right. Her family was fully capable of managing this stuff without her. Her dad especially. Allie wasn’t their damned maid, and she wasn’t even living at home anymore. Instead of clearing out the living room clutter, she would make a to-do list. But she wouldn’t be able to function, thinking about the germs breeding in the kitchen.
With a sigh, she kicked off her shoes and began loading the dishwasher. She had just poured the dish soap when she heard the front door bang.
Allie grabbed a hand towel and strode to the living room, a smile on her face. Brynn made it home after all. But the smile faded when she saw it wasn’t Brynn but Monica. She stood with her back to Allie, facing a guy in his mid-twenties. He rubbed his hands up and down Monica’s ass and squeezed it like he was checking a ripe tomato.
“What the hell, Monica?”
Her sister jumped and spun around. The guy—Brad?—smirked.
Monica’s eyes widened. “What are you doing here, Allie? Are you checking up on me?” She sounded defensive. Her clothes were wrinkled and she looked pale.
Allie narrowed her eyes. “That would be a little hard to do, considering you’ve been gone for days and haven’t bothered to let anyone know where you were.”
Monica stepped toward her. “I don’t have to check in with you. You’re not the boss of me.”
Allie crossed her arms. “Really? That’s all you can come up with, ‘you’re not the boss of me’? How about acting like the responsible adult you think you are and letting Dad know you’re still alive?”
Monica moved past her, slammed into Allie’s shoulder, and stormed to her room. Allie glanced at Brad. What an asshole. She supposed he was good-looking in a just-got-out-of-jail kind of way, with his longish blond hair and darker stubble.
He gave her the once-over, his eyes lingering on her breasts. “You, uh, must be the big sister.”
“Yeah. And you must be the dick Monica’s boning.”
That wiped the smirk right off his face. “She said you were a bitch.”
“Get out.”
He crossed his arms. “Monica invited me in. According to her, you don’t live here anymore. So, I have a right to be here.”
Allie walked over to the phone and punched in 911. “Yeah, I’d like to report an intruder.”
He sneered at her before turning to slam out the door.
She apologized to the dispatcher and hung up before making her way to the girls’ room. Standing in the doorway, Allie watched Monica throw clothes into a duffel bag.
“Don’t try and stop me, Allie.”
“Is that possible? Or are you so far up Brad’s ass, you can’t even listen to reason?”
Monica paused, a T-shirt in her hand. “You know, when you came home from school, everyone was so grateful—Allie the Savior, taking care of the family. And you love it don’t you? You love that Dad lets you make all the decisions. Makes you feel important. Well, you’re not making my decisions, and if you try and stop me, I’ll kick your ass.”
Allie drew herself up, placed her hands on her hips. “You and who else?” Their eyes locked in a contest of wills. Monica backed down first and shoved the T-shirt in the bag.
“Are you even going to let Dad know where you’ll be staying?” Allie asked.
“It’s nobody’s business. Besides, I don’t want you guys coming over and nagging me to move back home.” She crammed a handful of underwear in the bag.
Allie shook her head. “You’re making the biggest mistake of your life, Mon. Don’t do this—at least not until you graduate. You’re so close to getting that diploma.”
Monica zipped the bag and slung it over her shoulder. “I love him. I know you don’t get that, because you’re too busy being perfect to have a life, but we love each other. I want to be with him.”
Allie took a deep breath and willed away the tears stinging the backs of her eyes. Yelling at her sister wasn’t a good strategy. Allie walked into the room and tentatively touched Monica’s hand. “Fine, but stay here until graduation. You only have one more month.”
Monica shrugged her off. “You don’t understand. I don’t care about school. I have to be with him. I want him all the time, like I’ll die without him. He wants me to move in with him and that’s what I want too.” She walked out of the room and headed toward the front door.
Allie followed her. Her sister was screwing up her life and there was absolutely nothing Allie could do to stop it.
Monica gripped the door handle but didn’t look back. “Tell Dad I’ll call in a few days.”
And then she was gone.
Chapter 12
When Simmons picked Allie up, she climbed into the backseat of the limo with Mags, who rattled on about wedding details. Allie nodded, pretending to listen and mulled over the situation with Monica. She’d made a mistake letting Monica provoke her. Maybe if Allie’d been less confrontational, she could have at least learned Brad’s last name.
When they stepped into the house, Frances stood in the foyer, waiting for them. She organized Simmons and Arnold as they schlepped the bags up the stairs, Mags trailing behind, yakking all the way.
Allie walked down the hall to Trevor’s office. She hadn’t seen him all day and she missed him—the biting wit, the too-handsome face, the sexual innuendo. She couldn’t blame it on the champagne, since she’d had none. It must have been the toe-curling sex.
She softly knocked on the door and stuck her head inside. Trevor, seated behind his desk, glanced over and motioned her forward. A dark-haired man in a suit sat across from him.
Trevor rose and the man stood as well, buttoning his jacket. “Get back t
o me on the condos, Alex. By the way, this is Miss Campbell.” He gestured to her. “Miss Campbell, Alex Pade, my attorney.”
Alex shook her hand. “Pleasure.”
“Nice to meet you.” She stepped toward the center of the room and looked out at the garden. She’d never get any work done with a view like that.
Trevor followed Alex to the door and locked it, then strolled toward her slowly, with a predatory gleam in his eye. “You hung up on me, Allison.”
Her heart began to pound. He was unpredictable when he was in this kind of mood. A mixture of wariness and excitement filled her. And he’d called her Allison in that deep, sexy voice. That made her stomach flutter. “You were in denial about the wedding. I assure you, your mother plans to go through with it.”
“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.
“Alli
e 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.
He reached out and tapped her nose with a finger. “Whatever you want, Mags, it’s yours.”
Trevor let go of Allie’s knee and watched her face. She gazed at Mags and Nigel with a longing he didn’t understand. What was she thinking? Clearly, she didn’t find them as annoying as he did.
As dinner progressed, his repulsive parents cooed at each other and Allie ignored him to poke at her food. Nothing pissed him off more than being ignored.
Trevor was about to squeeze her knee again when Arnold stepped into the room. “Miss Campbell, your sister has just arrived.”
Allie jumped from her seat. “What? My sister’s here?” She threw her napkin on the table and hurried toward the dining room door.
Trevor stood as well. “Which sister?”
“A very young girl, brown hair.” Arnold glanced at Allie. “She had a suitcase with her.”
Allie all but ran to the foyer, Trevor close on her heels.
Brynn stood near the front door, her eyes darting around the room. When she saw Allison, relief filled the girl’s face. “Allie.”
His Every Need Page 15