Spring Romance: NINE Happily Ever Afters

by Tessa Bailey

  Or perhaps this was a cost he was willing to pay to get the seat he wanted.

  Candlelight flickered over him as Royce glanced at his father, and—was that malice echoing through his expression? His gaze landed back on me, and he emptied of emotion. “I’d rather my father not be involved.”

  I let out a tight breath. Removing Macalister from this part might make it . . . bearable. I tried not to look fearful as I peered up at him. “I agree with Royce.”

  Everything from his expression to his words were absolute. “I am the chairman of this board. It’s my responsibility to protect its members, and therefore, my vote counts more than anyone else’s.”

  “All right.” I swallowed a breath. “Then make Royce your proxy.”

  My attention was locked onto Macalister, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Royce straighten with surprise.

  “No,” Macalister said simply, as if overruling me were that easy. “I’m not relinquishing my vote.”

  I saw everything in his eyes. As chairman, he felt this was his God-given right. I was owed to him. He was willing to pay five million dollars for my participation, and he wasn’t going to give up control. But had he forgotten what he’d told me?

  “I won’t sign this unless you do.”

  He leaned down and uttered it with condescension. “Then you’ll leave here with nothing.”

  “If I walk out of here, we both lose. You’ll have to tell your guests that Royce’s promotion has been postponed.”

  Macalister let go of me and stared down, evaluating to see if this were a bluff.

  It wasn’t.

  I’d put up with a lot, but this was my limit. Besides, the past month had shown me how important this was to him. He wouldn’t give up a hundred years of tradition and look like a fool, just because he’d been asked to step aside.

  He needed me as much as I needed his money.

  It was a gamble because it might piss him off, but I went in for the kill. “Who’s in control?”

  A range of emotions flitted across his expression. Disbelief. Anger. Frustration. But the last one was harder to place. Begrudging respect?

  He seethed as he said it. “You are.” He tacked the final word on, and I didn’t miss the danger that lurked in it. “Tonight.”

  I wanted to look at Royce and see his reaction but didn’t dare risk it. Macalister was deep in thought, considering his next move.

  Finally, he spoke. “If I do this, I’m not giving my vote to Royce for nothing.”

  It terrified me to ask. What did I have to offer that was of any value to him? “What do you want?”

  “You need to understand something. There are only two things in this world that are important to me. My family and my company.”

  I understood that perfectly, although I’d argue he had them in the wrong order.

  “It would reflect badly on all of us if Royce’s marriage were to fail.” He delivered the statement as merely an observation and not the implied threat it really was. “It’s best we figure that out before the vows, don’t you agree?”

  I wasn’t going to like where he was heading. “Of course.”

  “It will take at least a year to plan the wedding, and you’ll want to finish your degree beforehand.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll use that time to see how compatible you two are long-term.” The faintest of smiles curled on his lips. “We’ll make arrangements to have your things brought to the house. You’ll have your own room, of course.”

  The shocked word tumbled from my mouth. “What?”

  His tone was plain. “You’ll move in next week. It will give you more time with Royce and make you more accessible to Alice for the wedding planning. It’s a shorter commute to Etonsons.”

  “No.” It was a knee-jerk reaction.

  Macalister lifted an eyebrow. “When you’re married, you will live here. I don’t see the point in delaying it.”

  It was difficult to decide which idea scared me the most. Being trapped under the same roof as him, or that I couldn’t figure out his true agenda. Was he asking for this just because he knew I wouldn’t want it? Or was it another way for him to have control of Royce and me?

  “I’m not ready.” I needed to be home with my family to help with the finances, but moreover, I needed to have a place to escape the Hales. I couldn’t catch my breath, and the plea came out shallow. “Please, Macalister.”

  It was the first time I’d ever addressed him by his name, and I tightened, unsure how he’d react. His eyes widened and his lips parted to draw in a deep breath. He was off-kilter for a single moment, before his handsome face hardened. “I want to be clear. Royce will act on my behalf, but I will still oversee the initiation. In exchange, you will live here. That’s my offer.”

  Like last time I’d negotiated with him, neither of us seemed happy.

  “Do you agree?” he asked.

  Was I trading one brief encounter with him tonight, only to give him a lifetime of more?

  I clumsily uncapped the pen, and it took more than one attempt to rest the cap on the other side of it. Even though this wasn’t a contract, and I could walk away after signing, there was a terrible finality to putting the ink on the paper. It was a stain that couldn’t be washed away.

  I couldn’t stand not to look at Royce one more time.

  He’d retreated so far inside himself I barely recognized the man I’d discovered hidden inside. There was only a flicker of him now, lurking in his eyes.

  The flicker was just enough to make me scrawl my name on the line.

  “Good. Royce?” Macalister prompted.

  Royce took the pen from my hand and signed his name with a quick flourish. He dropped it with a thud and gently grasped my wrist, urging me to stand. He moved me out of the way so the other men could form a line, and each signed in their place on the document. As I stood there watching it, Royce’s warm hand remained curled around me. The connection between us was a closed circuit, and when he brushed his thumb softly over the inside of my wrist, electricity flowed freely between us.

  Macalister was the last to sign. When he finished, he closed the portfolio, picked up my glass of champagne, and offered it to me. Yet, as his gaze etched over the necklace, seemingly mapping each diamond in the wreath, his expression darkened.

  Royce released me, severing our connection, leaving me to step forward and take the flute of champagne from his father.

  “Thank you,” I said automatically.

  “No, I believe it’s us that need to thank you,” Macalister said. He looked like he was going to say something else, but a distracted frown crossed his face. “Your necklace is very nice, but it’s too much. Tonight is supposed to be about Royce, not you.”

  From behind me, Royce’s irritated voice rang out. “It’s at least a little about her.”

  His father didn’t appreciate the tone and delivered a stern look to his son. “Take it off.”

  For a moment, no one moved. The Hale men were locked in a silent battle, but the fingertips at the clasp on the back of my neck announced Macalister had won this round. The weight of the necklace shifted, one end coming loose and skating down my front before being pulled away.

  I felt naked and exposed already, and it was the only thing to come off so far.

  Footsteps carried Royce away, leaving me alone to face his father and the group of men gathered around us in a half-circle while he put the necklace away in its box.

  “The Hale family,” Macalister announced, “came here from Germany at the turn of the nineteenth century, back when our country was almost as young as you are. We’d been watchmakers, but Eduard Hale had a head for finance. He worked for years at different banking firms before starting his own, which eventually grew into the Hale Banking and Holding Company of today. I am the eighth Hale to head up the board.” He pushed back one side of his black jacket and slipped a hand in his pocket, relaxing just enough to look less scary. “Royce, or Vance, will be the ninth.”
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br />   I mentally tripped over the statement. It had always been a given to me that Royce would take control when his father retired, but then again . . . The brothers had received identical educations, and Macalister pushed both of his sons hard. He’d had no qualms pitting them against each other.

  It added another layer to Royce’s situation. Even after joining the board, would he still be competing for that top spot? All the way until his father stepped down?

  “The company’s history isn’t perfect,” Macalister continued. “After the Civil War, they’d pledged too much stock to back their loans. This was before the Federal Reserve existed. Being a student of economics, you might remember what happened in 1907.”

  I wasn’t sure where he was going with this history lesson. “The Panic?”

  Three weeks of turmoil had gripped America as people and companies made terrified runs to the banks to withdraw their money, and some were left with nothing.

  Again, he was pleased with my answer. “The Stock Exchange plummeted. Banks weren’t just going out of business in New York, they were failing all over the country. Wall Street was in crisis. When my company’s loans were called, we nearly went bankrupt. But my great-great grandfather, Nelson Hale, was incredibly savvy. He consolidated investments, organized a merger between the railroads, and freed up enough capital to avert disaster.” There was admiration in his voice. “He is one of the great men credited with stabilizing the US economy.”

  Macalister’s lips turned up in an ironic smile.

  “It’s quite spectacular, all he accomplished,” he said, “especially considering he suffered a debilitating stroke the prior year and was completely incapacitated.”

  “What?” I asked. “How—”

  “His wife Alma, my great-great grandmother. With the help of the board, she saved the company. Nelson remained as the figurehead, but it was her pulling the strings while ensuring no one knew. For ten years she ruled in secret, and HBHC flourished. She made the board very wealthy, and they owed everything to her.” Something dark and sexual swirled in the room, so powerful, it seemed to make the candles flicker.

  “In return,” he said quietly, “they showed her their appreciation in ways her husband no longer could.”

  Oh, my God.

  His icy eyes wandered down over my frame. “Marriage is a partnership, and we need to know what kind of woman you are, Marist. If you would be willing to step in and do what needs to be done to protect the Hale name, no matter how hard it was.” His inescapable gaze connected with mine. “Would you?”

  I dragged air into my body. I wasn’t touching Royce, but I could feel him near, lingering behind me. “Yes,” I whispered.

  This faint smile from Macalister was the most sinister of them all. “Then we ask that you prove it.” He nodded to Royce. “You’ll bind yourself not just to him, but to this board.”

  There was a tug at my back, and my eyes widened. He was undoing the knots on my corset.

  Holy. Fuck.

  Macalister pulled the untouched glass of champagne from my grasp. I’d forgotten it existed, and as soon as my hands were empty, I pressed them to the front of my dress. My chest heaved, but the dress was a skeleton of boning and fabric, caging me in. I fluttered nakedly inside my prison, not ready to be released.

  I held the dress as the laces at my back were loosened, my gaze fixed on Macalister, although I sensed the other men as well. I felt their heavy eyes scouring me, waiting with bated breath.

  The back of my dress was undone by Royce’s sure hands, and with my flesh bared to only him, he took advantage. It was his favorite part of a woman, after all. His palms crept inside and slid over my skin just like he’d done in the library upstairs last year.

  That night had been a century ago.

  Neither of us should be those people right now. I was supposed to be the girl who could handle anything. But I came undone when Royce’s lips ghosted a kiss against my back.

  “Be Medusa,” he whispered.

  I sucked in a final breath, let go of my dress, and as it cascaded down my body, I unleashed my power, turning all the men into stone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The red dress coasted down my legs until it was a heap of satin and tulle at my ankles. I wasn’t wearing a bra since the dress molded to my body and offered support. I stood before the board in nothing more that a pair of lace panties.

  My mind was as motionless as the men looking at me.

  Of course, it was Macalister who recovered first. His gaze washed down and hovered on my breasts. Invisible fingers slipped over me, tracing the curves of my exposed, sensitive flesh. His attention lingered on my nipples, teasing the distended tips with a featherlight touch.

  It seemed to happen in slow motion. His hand extended to me in an offer. Or a demand. I was bashful and wanted to cover myself, but what was the point? I wasn’t done until they’d seen it all.

  I stared at his hand, unsure.

  “I can’t make him my proxy,” Macalister said, “until we’ve begun.”

  Meaning the initiation hadn’t officially started.

  I didn’t know how I had the strength, but I reached out and took Macalister’s cold hand. He used his hold to urge me to step free of the dress, but once I had, he didn’t release me. He squeezed my fingers and guided me to walk with him.

  My breasts swayed with each inelegant step I took in the red bottomed heels Alice had dressed me in, and I held my body tight and careful. It was a sexual promenade to the far end of the enormous dining table with a court of hungry men in tuxedos trailing behind us. There was something darkly powerful about it. I was the queen, and their desire made them my subjects.

  When we reached the head of the table, Macalister let go of me and pulled the large, ornate chair out of the way. More chairs scraped over the rug and hardwood as they were dragged away, making room for the board. Royce moved in, turning me so my back was to the men and he became all I could see. He smoothed his warm palms over my stomach, sliding them around my body until they came to rest on the small of my back. His eyes searched my face, desperate to make sure I was okay.

  It was so much easier like this when he was all that existed. I pressed my body against his, flattening my breasts to his dress shirt. We couldn’t stay like this forever, though. He’d come to me with a purpose, and his fingers hesitantly inched toward the lace. It was the last scrap of fabric hiding me from everyone else.

  It had to be quite the image. I was nearly naked in his arms, while the men gathered around the table. Once again, four on one side and three on the other, the Hales and I at the end. It tasted like pennies in my mouth, which I found ironic until I realized I’d bitten the inside of my cheek so hard I’d drawn blood.

  The question was loud in Royce’s expression. He needed to know if I could keep going. I gave the subtlest of nods and closed my eyes.

  Down, he pulled the lace, dragging it over my thighs and trembling knees. My breath went so shallow I was barely taking air into my body, and I swayed, a reed in the wind. One strong gust and I’d break.

  The quick, uneven breath and shuffle of feet was the only thing I could hear when he bent, and my underwear dropped all the way to my ankles. Then Royce straightened, and his voice went nearly silent, like he didn’t want to disturb me or the quiet in the room.

  “Have a seat.”

  I had to open my eyes to do it. I put my hands down beside me on the tabletop at my back, and my bare skin squealed as I got up, sliding until my knees were at the edge, my feet dangling over the side. I pinched my legs together and my shoulders were tight to my ears. Tension twisted so hard inside me it made my chest hurt.

  This command came from Macalister instead of his son. “Lie back.”

  Oh, God.

  Trepidation was strong, but so was relief. It wouldn’t be long now, and the sooner we started, the sooner it would be over. I’d waited so fucking long, the darkest part inside of me no longer cared how it happened. I was eager for Royce to make m
e his.

  The table was a hard slab of concrete against my heated skin. My shoes and panties were removed, and I curled my awkward hands in fists, resting them tensely over my stomach. I couldn’t really see the Hales at the end of the table, but the other men? They stood shoulder to shoulder at the sides of the table, their curious and thirsty gazes exploring the naked landscape before them.

  “Are you comfortable?” Macalister’s tone was pleasant and off-putting.

  “Yeah,” I said, punctuated by a nervous, sarcastic laugh. Being naked was beyond disorienting. “This is great.”

  Although I couldn’t see him without lifting my head, I felt Royce stiffen at my flippant tone. I wished I could take it back. If the board found me disrespectful, would I lose their approval? I pressed my lips together to keep anything else unfiltered from coming out.

  Rather than look upset, Macalister appeared understanding and turned to his son. “There’s a pillow in the cabinet with the hourglass.”

  Right, I wanted to say. A pillow was going to make all the difference. I stared up at the chandelier, ignoring the eyes leering down at me. I’d never really been naked in front of the opposite sex. Royce had seen all of my body, but not at one time, and now there were nine men seeing me at once.

  Try to enjoy it, Alice had said.

  Had she done this? Lain right here on this same spot while Macalister fucked her? Had she been special enough to warrant a pillow? I wanted to giggle inappropriately. My emotions were all over the place.

  My eyelids fluttered closed as I drew in a deep breath through my nose and pushed it out slowly through my mouth, hoping to center myself. A cabinet opened and clicked closed, followed by rustling. Then fabric, covering a male form, leaned into me.

  “Marist,” Royce whispered.

  There was a gold throw pillow in his hands, and when I lifted my head to look at him, he slipped it beneath me. It was marginally better because it kept the pins in my hair from digging into my scalp, but it was also so much worse. It made it so I would be able to view all the men surrounding me more clearly.