His Every Need

by Terri L. Austin

  “I told you Brynn could stay as long as she needs to. It’s fine. In fact, I’ll meet the two of you for tea in the conservatory.”

  She smiled.

  The smile he gave her in return, a genuine smile that formed little commas next to his mouth, caused her heart to skip a beat.

  ***

  “I love these cookies,” Brynn said. She was the most relaxed Trevor had ever seen her. The girl would always be shy by nature, but she seemed to be getting used to him. She smiled, and her gaze darted away, settling on the fountain. “And thank you for the gift card and docking station. That was nice of you.”

  He wanted to make sure she was comfortable. Allie had mentioned the girl liked listening to her iPod, so he simply instructed Frances to get what was needed. It was nothing, really, yet by the look on her bright red face, Brynn was pleased. “You’re most welcome. And the biscuits are British, of course.” Arnold only served them for Allie and Brynn.

  In fact, both sisters had Arnold wrapped around their fingers. With great flair, he’d presented them with little frosted fairy cakes, their initials written in pink icing. Trevor didn’t get a little cake with his initials. When Allie and Brynn moved out, his butler might very well decide to go with them.

  He frowned and pushed the thought aside. The very idea of Allison not living here made him uneasy. She wouldn’t always be here, but the when of it was his decision. And right now, he wanted her here. In his bed. Straddling him.

  With a sigh, he shifted in discomfort. He needed to be inside Allie again. As soon as possible. The brief excursion in the pool house had only whetted his appetite, rather than easing it.

  Trevor grabbed a biscuit. The fountain tinkled softly in the background. This really was a most peaceful room. The air was cool and dry and the flowers gave off a heady perfume. Maybe this should become a ritual, taking a few minutes out of the day to have tea with Allie.

  She smiled at him. “Your mother finally picked a wedding cake.”

  He threw her a droll look. “Excellent. I’ve worried myself silly over it.” He popped the last of the biscuit in his mouth and then wiped his hands on the napkin. “Do try the watercress sandwiches, Brynn. They’re quite nice.”

  Brynn plucked one from the tiered tray and peered at it with suspicion. “What’s watercress?” She lifted the top layer of bread and sniffed the sandwich.

  “Watercress is an herb. Served on these tiny, crustless sandwiches at teatime.” He picked one off the tray and took a bite. “Mmm.” He closed his eyes and smiled.

  Brynn laughed and took a small bite. After chewing a few times, she shrugged. “It’s all right,” she said.

  “Well, they can’t all be Jammie Dodgers.”

  “She’s getting red velvet to match her red dress,” Allie said.

  Trevor sighed and glanced at her. She’d changed into a peach-colored dress and her bra pushed her breasts up and outward. The memory of this morning, working his cock between those lovely tits, made him hard. Slowly his gaze traveled to her eyes, which he found glaring at him. Whoops. Wouldn’t do to be caught gaping in front of Brynn. Still, if Allie didn’t want her breasts to be admired, she shouldn’t put them on display—but he very much enjoyed it when she did.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “Yes, darling, red velvet.”

  Brynn, who had been looking over the tray of food, paused. “You call your assistant darling?”

  Trevor noticed Allie turning a lovely shade of pink. It made him smile. “I call everyone darling. Darling.”

  “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.

  “Fin
e, 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.

  “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.”

  No more—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 swep
t 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.