Before Rory could think, his fist connected with that pretty-boy face that had always gotten Callum every woman he’d ever wanted. By god, it wouldn’t land him Tori.
“What the hell?” Callum cupped his jaw. “Why on earth did you do that?”
Rory didn’t bother to answer. He punched his older brother again, forcing him back to the wall.
Then Callum struck back, the force of his blow smashing Rory against the lift doors. Years of physical training had given Callum the edge, but Rory looked up and realized Callum’s strength was nothing compared to Oliver’s rage.
Oliver lashed out, nailing Callum in the jaw. “You’re fired, you little shit. I won’t let you use her like that.”
Rory straightened away from the lift doors as the display above indicated the car stopped on their floor. Through the big doors, he heard a familiar feminine voice.
“Thurston-Hughes Incorporated is one of the last great British family companies, and I think you’ll see that the siblings work together to run the company in a harmonious fashion.” Tori spoke with soft confidence.
Hell. They were supposed to meet with a reporter this afternoon. Rory feared their sweet Tori was escorting a representative from one of the big financial news sites through the building as a prelude to the fundraiser and Thurston-Hughes’s renewal.
The elevator doors opened then.
“Yes, I can see that,” a male voice chuckled. “That will make a good headline.”
Rory looked into Tori’s horrified face and prayed she didn’t quit on the spot.
* * * *
Callum placed the ice pack over his jaw and wondered where Ollie had learned to throw a punch like that. It had been like a battering ram. He’d nearly seen stars, and that hadn’t happened since Spain’s defender elbowed him in the final round of the World Cup two years before. He wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t have a concussion but then he tended to get those like most people got headaches.
“What is wrong with you three?” Tori raged at them back in Oliver’s office.
Callum tried to focus on her words, not the way her golden brown hair whipped around her like a lusciously soft windstorm or her blouse tightened over her breasts as she railed. “Sorry.”
“You knew the reporters were coming. I know you knew that because you all responded to my e-mail advising you. Is fighting like this some British thing I don’t understand? Do you normally greet reporters by brawling with your brother?”
Her pretty cheeks flushed pink. He’d bet she would turn that very same color when he spread her legs and fucked her hard. Damn, but she was pretty when she was mad. He was getting an erection that stiffened and throbbed every time she screamed at him.
Lord, he sounded half mad. Sometimes he wondered if hitting the ball with his head so many times had led to brain damage.
Tori turned her attention to Oliver. “And you… I thought you were better than that.”
Oliver’s eyes narrowed and he stood, leaning over his desk so he could properly intimidate her. His older brother had perfected that maneuver in the last two years. He stood a good foot taller than petite Tori and loomed over her like some snarling beast. “So sorry to have proven you wrong, but I think you forget exactly who you work for.”
If Tori was at all intimidated, she didn’t show it. She planted her palms on Oliver’s desk and leaned in, mirroring him. “And I think you forget what you hired me to do, what you swore we were all working toward.”
The sexual tension between them was so bloody thick he could cut it with a knife.
And sweet, smart Tori was in the perfect position for a spanking. She was leaning over, her pert ass in the air. Callum could almost feel his palm connecting. He would give her one rough swat to get her attention, then pepper more across that lush ass to sensitize her skin and prepare her for the fucking to follow.
A big hand swatted his arm, jerking him from the fantasy.
“What is wrong with you?” Rory leaned in and hissed quietly.
His brother’s eyes were focused on his slacks. Damn it. He shifted, trying to hide his unruly cock. “I can’t help it.”
“Try,” Rory bit out.
Tori snapped her head around like a predator sensing prey. His sweet bunny actually had a few layers of sharp teeth. That was the trouble. She was so very kind, but in an instant, she could turn into a raging bitch. God, that got him hot. She got him hot.
Callum shifted again and tried to think of past games. 2011. Manchester United vs. Arsenal. Their opponents had lost the coin toss, so he’d taken the kickoff.
“Is he listening to a word I’ve said?” Tori now stood in front of him, but she’d posed her question to Rory.
“Give him a minute. Cal has taken many a thump to the head. Sometimes he requires a moment to focus and get himself back under control.” Rory’s words provided the time needed to tamp down his arousal and get his head back in the game.
But he knew how to play this scene to his advantage. “I’m all right. Now what were we saying?”
Tori stared at him for a moment as if trying to decide whether to believe him. “I was saying we’re screwed.”
Nope. Just hearing her utter that particular word got him hard again.
Callum stood and shifted his suit jacket for better coverage. “We’re brothers. You were saying that we’re one of the last great family-owned corporations in Britain. We proved it by acting like brothers.”
He didn’t see the problem. Brothers sometimes fought. Then they made up with a pint and a laugh. Most men functioned that way, and it had nothing to do with stocks or bottom lines.