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 to 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?