Tori’s head sank forward like it was simply too heavy for her to carry anymore. She sighed and when she looked up again, she wore a sadly earnest expression. “The press won’t see it that way. The original story I crafted described a unified family rising again in both spirit and sales. Now it will be about three brothers tearing themselves and their company apart. They’ll bring up everything from Oliver’s marriage to Rory’s playboy status to Callum’s loss of career and descent into paternity hell.”
“I didn’t mean to collide with the opposition and break my leg in such a way that I can no longer play.”
She sighed tiredly. “Don’t apologize for that and don’t be flippant. I’m merely pointing out that the press uses the video of your injury and the fact that they had to clean your blood off the field as a metaphor for the company. You’re all damaged and someone needs to clean you up.”
“Pitch,” he corrected.
“What?”
“We call it a pitch. They cleaned my blood off the pitch after they carried me off with my tibia sticking out.” He forced himself not to shudder. He still felt a bit sick when he thought of it.
Tori turned pale. “Sorry. I’m not trying to bring back bad memories, but they will use everything against you.” She sighed. “Do you want to tell me what all this squabbling is about?”
She stood so close and she looked tired. Callum wondered how her visit with her sister had gone. Hadn’t seeing Piper cheered her up? All he wanted to do was haul Tori close and promise that everything would be all right. But he couldn’t—yet. Callum wasn’t sure how he and his brothers would solve this mess. Oliver and Rory were excellent at unraveling puzzles. He was the workhorse really. He simply did what needed to be done.
“Nothing for you to worry about,” he said softly.
“None of your business,” Oliver stated at the same moment.
She whirled on Oliver. “You ruin my press conference before it even begins and it’s none of my business?”
Maybe, Callum thought, he was more necessary than he’d imagined. Oliver obviously lacked a soft touch these days. “Of course it’s her business. Bolstering us with the press is precisely the reason we hired her.”
“Can we all calm down?” Rory held a chair out for Tori. “Claire is having tea with the reporter and she’ll smooth things over. She’s very good with them, unlike the rest of us.”
Naturally, Rory had given her the seat closest to him. Bastard.
“At least she didn’t fall asleep during media training.” Tori huffed as she sat.
Callum knew that particular comment was directed straight at him. “Sorry, love. I sometimes get sleepy about midafternoon.”
“He’s also easily distracted,” Rory said pointedly.
Tori sat with her back ramrod straight. “I think it’s time to try something different.”
Oliver relaxed into his chair and nodded. “I’m all ears.”
“I don’t think I’m helping you as much as you need. I have a colleague in New York who might be better suited to your PR needs. I’ll leave you his contact information. We spoke yesterday about another matter, so I know he’s working on something right now, but he could probably be here by the end of the month.”
He tensed. “We don’t need to bring in anyone to help you, Tori. You’re doing fine.”
“That’s not what she’s suggesting,” Oliver explained grimly.
Rory turned to her. “Oh?”
Tori trained her stare on Oliver. “It’s been six months, and I haven’t made a substantial difference here. Perhaps the company should try someone new. I suggest a man because I think you might listen better to one.”
“No.” Callum wasn’t about to let her go, not before he could see whether he and Tori could have a go at a future together. “Absolutely not. You saw what happened. We’re on testosterone overload as it is. We don’t need more. We need you.”
Oliver held up his hand, a clear signal he’d decided to take over. “So now we’re misogynists, is that it?”
She frowned. “No. You’re all normally quite polite and kind. You’re very much gentlemen around me, which is why I think you need a male. You might talk to him more…openly. He might be able to get to the root of the problem.”
Tori was the root of the problem. How the hell could they tell her that?
Well, love, we all want in your knickers and we’re battling it out to see who gets to go first. Yes, she would love that.
Who goes first? Callum intended to be first—and last. He would be her only. Hell, he and his brothers couldn’t share a room, much less a wife, without fighting. Right?
A little voice in his head had been picking at him for weeks, ever since he’d talked to his friends in New Orleans who shared a wife. Three lawyers. One beloved beauty. He kept waiting for their relationship to fall apart, but they seemed happier than ever.
Oliver sat back, looking positively arctic. “Do you want to leave?”
“Of course she doesn’t,” Callum said, trying to be an optimist.
“Don’t interrupt, Cal,” Oliver snapped. “Tori has been through a great deal with us in the past six months. My situation—and the company’s—was already challenging enough. So what did you give her? A paternity suit. Brilliant.” He turned to Rory. “And you heaped on a parade of apparent sluts. I wouldn’t blame her if she preferred to go home.” He quieted for a moment, then his expression softened as he regarded Tori. “Do you miss your fiancé? You’re not wearing your engagement ring. Is there any trouble?”