Anger flared through her. Leaving was better than suffering horrible humiliation. “You don’t have a say in what I do.”
Callum was suddenly at her side as though ready to stop her should she climb any further up the stairs. “Darling, we need to dance. Smile and talk to the reporters. Nothing happened to you that hasn’t happened to every starlet in Hollywood. You had a wardrobe malfunction. It’s not the end of the world.”
“It’s not your boob that’s going to be plastered all over the papers tomorrow,” she hissed back.
Callum’s eyes went arctic cold. “Like hell it’s not. Now, stop acting like a brat or I’ll throw you over my knee and give the press a real story to report.”
Oliver stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching them. “While that might be amusing, I think we should spank her privately. Do I have a vote? We haven’t talked about it. Is this a democratic ménage?”
What was Oliver talking about? “Callum can’t spank me.”
He leaned in, his voice right against her ear. “I can and I will. I already owe you for lying to me about your engagement in London. You’ll thank me when it’s over. I can be deeply indulgent, but I also know when to take control. You might be clever, love, but I can play a rough game and I always play to win. I might do it with an idiotic grin on my face, but that’s a mask. You keep pushing me and you’ll meet the real man.”
A shiver went down her spine that had only the tiniest thing to do with fear. The rest was pure arousal.
“Come on. We’ll put in an appearance. Then the four of us will go somewhere to talk,” Rory commanded. It wasn’t a suggestion.
The hardness of his tone shocked Tori…but perhaps it shouldn’t. After all, Rory had taken over the company when their father died. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Rory had steered the ship while Oliver had gotten married and Callum had played football. He’d been the glue, and when Oliver needed something to occupy his mind after Yasmin’s betrayal, Rory had been strong enough to relinquish some of his power to his eldest brother.
“We don’t have anything to talk about.” But she allowed Rory to lead her off the steps. She was still shaky. At least her ankle was feeling solid. She hadn’t sprained anything except her ego. “My brother-in-law sent you a check.”
And she’d be repaying him until the end of time.
“Which I promptly tore up,” Rory explained, looking so sleek in his tux. If he had a martini in his hand, he would remind her of James Bond. Sophisticated, gorgeous, and dangerous. He threaded her arm through his, stabilizing her. “Those shoes are lovely, but you’re going to break a leg in them. You’ll need to take them off before we dance.”
“I can’t take them off. I can’t walk around here without shoes.”
“Of course you can,” Callum said.
“Why do you think it’s a problem, Tori?” Oliver asked. “And while I’m asking questions, why does your sister call you Mindy?”
Why was Oliver acting so calmly? And why had he mentioned the word ménage as if it included him?
Rory helped her into the grand ballroom where the orchestra was starting up. “My sister calls me Mindy because it’s my first name. I thought Torrance sounded more like a publicist. And I can’t go barefoot because it’s rude.”
“Who says it’s rude?” Rory steered her to one of the tables that formed an elegant U around the dance floor.
A waiter with a tray of champagne strolled by. Callum snagged a glass and pressed it in her hand as Rory gently sat her down.
She took a long sip of the bubbly. Tori suspected she was going to need it. “Everyone knows you don’t go to a formal ball barefoot.”
Callum sat down opposite her and before she could protest, he pulled her right foot into his lap and eased the shoe off, the warmth of his big hands sliding over her aching foot. She bit back a moan as his thumb slid up the arch of her foot. “Relax, love. The worst is over. Once we prove everything is normal, they’ll stop watching us.”
“Normal?” She kept her voice low because the ballroom was filling up and sure enough, now that the royal princes were leaving, everyone began looking their way. Rory sat beside her, his hand on her shoulder while Oliver loomed over her like a watchful sentry. “There is nothing normal about this situation. I’m sure they’re already gossiping that you three and I are…” She shook her head. “Let go of my foot.”
“Only so I can move on to the other one.” Callum exchanged her right foot for her left, giving it the same attention.
“Do you need another drink?” Oliver asked. “Perhaps some food? When was the last time you ate? You look a bit pale.”
God, Callum knew how to rub a foot. She tried to focus. “It’s none of your concern.”
His thumb dug into her arch, nearly relaxing into a catatonic state. “Love, I want you to think about how good this feels. The spanking won’t feel like this. Nor will you like it when I put those sweet little nipples in clamps.”
“You brought nipple clamps?” Oliver asked, his voice going husky.
“We brought two kits, and the sheikh has promised that he can provide anything we need,” Rory explained. “I don’t believe Oliver has ever gone to a club, but I’ve been training with Callum for the last six months. I began when I realized what a firm hand you’ll need.”
Tori’s head was muddled. She still wasn’t sure she wouldn’t wake up any minute and realize all of this was a surreal dream. Part of her prayed she would do just that because she wasn’t sure she could refuse them when they came at her together. “Training?”