Spring Romance: NINE Happily Ever Afters

by Tessa Bailey

  “Hey,” he said. As he moved in to join me on the same step, the banister was at my back and his expression was hard to read. “I didn’t mean to make light of what he said. It’s fucked up, I know. You have to remember everyone in this house has an agenda. We’re all positioning to get what we want, and no one says what they mean.”

  I lifted my chin to meet his gaze. “Including you?”

  He placed one hand on the wall beside my head, then the other, trapping me beneath his hungry stare. His gaze roved over my face and settled on my lips. “Yeah, Marist. Including me.”

  Royce leaned in and captured my mouth. He kissed me like a conqueror, and I was happy to be claimed as his.

  Just outside of the doorway, someone cleared their throat, loud and excessive. We both froze.

  I didn’t have to hear anything else or see him—I already knew. I could blame the cold draft on the air conditioning, but it was really Macalister’s frosty presence. Who knew how long he’d been standing there?

  Royce straightened away from me the moment his father stepped into our view.

  Macalister had on a full suit. Clearly, he’d come straight from the office, but it was a long ride from Boston, and he hadn’t so much as loosened his tie. He stared at us with his piercing eyes and drained all the heat from the moment.

  “Marist.” He said my name like I’d done something wrong. “While you’re here, I wanted to let you know our lawyers are drafting the prenup. They should have it to me by the time you move in.”

  Seeing him again was like walking into a spider’s web. Hundreds of invisible threads pulled at my skin. I wanted to sound confident but failed. “All right.”

  His gaze flicked to his son and narrowed. “Royce and I will go over it together with you.”

  The subtext was clear. This wasn’t a request, it was a decree.

  Neither of us had a response, and Macalister must have taken our silence as acceptance because he nodded. “Well, then. Enjoy your evening.”

  * * *

  Friday afternoon, I finished packing. I’d put it off as long as I could, but I had to move in and be at the Hale estate this evening. Macalister wanted his meeting to discuss the prenup after he and Royce had come home from the office.

  Ever since my contentious afternoon with my parents and the financial advisor, things hadn’t been great at home. My mother had been treating me to more and more passive-aggressive statements as the rest of the week played out, and although I was terrified of moving into the Hale estate, a small part of me was relieved to be leaving.

  She was angry. A spoiled child throwing a tantrum.

  As I zipped up my toiletries bag and put it in the suitcase, she was upset I’d told her to cancel the annual ski trip to Aspen the week of Thanksgiving. My family had been going for years, but the situation now was too dire.

  “It’s not that much money,” she whined.

  Her comment grated. If I’d learned anything from this ordeal, it was that she had no concept of money. It hurt me how her youngest daughter was moving out, and yet all she cared about was some lousy trip.

  “You don’t even ski. You sit in the lodge with the other women and play cards.”

  She scowled. “I enjoy spending time with my friends.”

  I’d swear half of Cape Hill made the trip. It was almost more about social status than having an actual vacation.

  But where were my mother’s friends now? She’d given up her luncheons with them at fancy downtown restaurants and stopped donating to their fundraisers. Her friends miraculously dried up with our family’s cash flow.

  “Now that you’re engaged to Royce, our family should be there. You know how that trip is.”

  “I do. I’m sure he’ll take me, even though I couldn’t care—” Fuck. Why had I said that?

  “I see.” She went stiff. “Well, I’d love to go, but we can’t all find a Hale to take us.”

  I slammed shut my suitcase, wishing I could stuff myself inside and get away from her.

  But she couldn’t leave it be. “Think about how it’s going to look if people find out we’re in a tough spot, and you’re suddenly getting fancy jewelry and expensive trips from Royce.”

  Tough spot? We weren’t just broke, we were in serious debt. I tried to stay calm. “Expensive trips?” I said flatly. “You just said it wasn’t that much.”

  “They’ll think you’re only after his money.”

  I zipped the suitcase closed, set it on its wheels, and gave her a cold look. “I am only after his money.”

  It had been true once.

  Now it tasted like a lie.

  Royce said everyone in his house had an agenda, and I was bringing my own, but as I pushed past my mother and headed for the stairs, I wondered when mine had shifted. Because saving my family was no longer my primary objective.

  Getting a chance to have more with him was.

  * * *

  I was given the guest bedroom sandwiched between Royce’s room and the library. It was decorated in white and slate blue with mirrored furniture, and like his, there was a small sitting area opposite the king-sized bed.

  Unpacking didn’t take long, and once I’d finished, I curled up on one of the chairs with a book, trying to pretend this was all normal and my home now.

  It didn’t work.

  A little after six o’clock, Royce knocked on my door. He’d loosened his tie and undone the top button of his dress shirt, and although he had relaxed his clothes, he looked anything but comfortable as he stood in my doorway.

  I felt it too. Awareness that there’d be something buried in this prenuptial agreement that neither of us were going to like.

  He surveyed the room, noting the large stack of books I’d put on the dresser, held up by my Pegasus bookends.

  “Hey.” He delivered the news in a solemn tone. “He’s waiting for us in the library.”

  I hated the tension hanging in the air. I closed my book, climbed to my feet, and marched toward Royce. His lips pressed to mine, and for once, our kiss had nothing to do with desire. It was about connection. Partnership. Like the ring on my finger, it was a wordless promise we were together.

  Lucifer was a black shadow in the hallway, and when he saw Royce, he issued a soft meow and brushed against his master’s legs. But as we approached the library, the cat stopped and sat on the carpet. His wary green eyes regarded Macalister, who sat behind the desk and glared back at the cat with a similar sentiment.

  It was overcast this evening and the curtains overwhelmed the window, so only a slice of light penetrated the library.

  “Shut the door,” Macalister said, presumably to keep the cat out, although Lucifer looked like he’d abstain anyway. Cats liked warm things, and the man behind the desk wasn’t.

  Once the door was closed, he didn’t tell us to sit. Royce took a chair, so I followed suit and sat on the edge of the other. Once again, Alice’s reminder about my posture flitted through my head, and I pulled my shoulders back.

  Everything was so different than the last time Royce and I had been in this room. It still smelled like books, but the magic was gone. Nothing was cozy or inviting, and all the power radiated from the man in the suit who’d ordered this meeting.

  “This is the first draft of the prenuptial agreement.” Macalister rested his spread fingertips on a pale blue folder in front of him. “However, after our discussion, we’ll need to make a few addendums.”

  My stomach clenched. There was a gleam in his eyes that didn’t bode well.

  Royce didn’t notice, or he was playing his role. He settled into his chair with an air of indifference. “What kind of addendums?”

  “I am concerned about the relationship forming between the two of you.” Macalister’s hand on the folder curled into a loose fist. “When you fall in love so quickly, it’s guaranteed to end just as fast, and it will destroy the partnership we’ve been working toward.”

  Royce scoffed and sounded disgusted. “Nobody’s falling in love.”<
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  I tried to mimic the same confidence when Macalister’s gaze slithered over to me, but I must have failed, because the side of his mouth quirked.

  “What is it, then?” he asked his son. “Lust?”

  “Yeah. I’m only interested in fucking her.”

  The cruel, easy way it rolled off his tongue filled my stomach with stones. I reminded myself this was a lie. Not just because his father was sitting across from us, either. Royce wanted more with me. The way we’d been together in the wine cellar showed that.

  “And you?” Macalister’s look bore into me. “You have no feelings for Royce in anything other than a sexual capacity?”

  Jesus. I licked my dry lips but surprised myself with how detached it came from me. “Yes, sir.”

  Did Macalister believe me? His head tilted as he evaluated both of us. “All right.” He brought his hands together and leaned forward to rest his forearms on the desk, his attention directed at his son. “Then I don’t see any reason for you to object to me pursuing a sexual relationship with Marist.”

  My heart stopped. “What?”

  “Excuse me?” Royce said at the same time.

  The library became a vacuum. Icy fingers plunged inside my chest, wringing the air from my lungs.

  Was this another one of Macalister’s tests? His half-smile was pure evil as he turned it on me. “As I mentioned, you’re a beautiful young woman. While I’m glad you are here, I find myself wishing I hadn’t traded away my time to Royce. If there are no emotions for either of you, I don’t see the issue.”

  “No,” I snarled.

  He wasn’t fazed, but his son?

  Royce struggled. His expression was devoid of any emotion, but his hand on the armrest was clenched in a fist, so hard it was white, and I could see the tendons straining.

  Macalister focused on his son, his gaze moving from the tense fist up to meet his eyes. “You’ll continue your engagement and see it through the marriage. Everyone will believe she’s your wife, and she will be, but in name only. When we’re here, she’ll be mine.” His eyes were terrifying as he flexed his power. “Not yours.”

  Holy. Fucking. Shit.

  An earthquake of panic overtook me. Royce had warned me this could happen. He’d said his father might take me away from him. How he felt he truly owned everything Royce had.

  “I imagine this isn’t appealing to you,” Macalister said. “In exchange for Marist, I would be willing to offer you stock.”

  It bubbled up, escaping from me in a raging blur. “I’m not a piece of property that can be bought and sold.”

  Macalister looked down his long nose at me. “Is that so? There’s a ring on your finger and a five-million-dollar deposit in your family’s bank account that says otherwise.”

  Oh, my God. I doubled over, and the bile in my stomach threatened to erupt. His harsh truth cut me into a thousand pieces.

  But I inhaled a shallow breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Royce would put a stop to this madness. Right now, that idea was the only thing holding me together. And as he sat there, staring at his father in disbelief, the wheels were turning in his head. I could see him considering and plotting. He was weighing different scenarios and working up solutions.

  I just needed to give him more time.

  “You’re married,” I spat at Macalister.

  He waved the comment off. “Alice and I have an understanding. Neither of us wants to limit the other.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m not, and never will be, interested.”

  Why the hell did he look pleased? Perhaps he thrilled at the chase.

  “I admitted I underestimated you, but now,” a pompous, sexual look spread across his face, “I believe you are doing the same.” The frightening desire in his gaze faded as it shifted back to his son. “How does twenty thousand shares sound?”

  I didn’t know exactly what HBHC was trading at, but it was usually around a hundred dollars a share. Macalister hadn’t just offered his son two million dollars, he’d offered so much more. There was considerable power connected to the shares.

  “No,” Royce said.

  I let out a heavy, grateful breath.

  Macalister’s jaw ticked with displeasure. “What would it take? Fifty?”

  Royce’s chest moved with his rapid, uneven breath, but that was the only indication he wasn’t fine. He was calm and business-like when he spoke. “I want the house.”

  No.

  My heart careened through my body to my toes, hitting every painful spot on the way down. How could he? How could he sell me out, and how the fuck could he do it so easily?

  “Which house?” His father’s expression was dubious. “This house?” When it was clear the answer was yes, he scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Royce’s clenched fist relaxed, just enough that the blood started to flow again, and hope sparked in me as I realized what this was.

  A bluff.

  “It’s worth about the same,” Royce offered.

  That confirmed what he was doing, and more relief snaked through me. He’d picked one of the few things his father wouldn’t trade away. While the house might have similar monetary value, it had greater value elsewhere. Maybe sentimental, but I doubted it. Perhaps it was the power. If the house was put in Royce’s name, Macalister would be living under his son’s roof.

  And he couldn’t abide that.

  The thought must have hit Macalister at the same moment, because he turned so frigid, I expected to see his frosty breath on the air.

  Royce had his father on the ropes and wasn’t going to let up until he could claim victory. “It’ll be mine eventually. Signing the house over to me is really just a formality.”

  “I was too generous.” A humorless smile twisted on Macalister’s handsome face. “I didn’t have to offer you anything. It was my money that brought her here. You didn’t make the deal and you don’t have any leverage.”

  “I don’t?” Royce’s smug smile was almost as evil as his father’s had been. “Maybe things aren’t working out, and I break off the engagement. Doesn’t make much sense for her to keep living here, does it?”

  If I wasn’t here, Macalister couldn’t control. He wouldn’t be able to get at me.

  “One hundred thousand shares.”

  Royce turned to stone, but I flinched for him. That had to be more than ten million dollars, and at that volume, it’d increase his stake in the company considerably—all while decreasing his father’s.

  Macalister’s unexpected swing had landed and caught Royce off guard. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the disorientation from the blow. It was so much money and power.

  “One hundred thousand.” He repeated his father’s words because there was no way he’d heard them correctly.

  Realizing his opponent was stumbling backward, Macalister went on the attack. “You’d have the second highest controlling stake in the company after me.”

  Outwardly, there wasn’t a change in Royce, but still—it was unmistakable. I was on the edge of a collapsing cliff, and rather than help me, he took a step back. Brutal, unforgiving awareness washed through me.

  He was going to save himself.

  I’d been warned by both of them. Royce had told me the only thing he cared about was taking over at the company, and Macalister had said his son would sell me out the first chance he got. But no amount of warning could prepare me for the cold, distant look in Royce’s eyes. It was like he was already counting his stacks of money.

  He was already planning how he’d use this new influence to his advantage.

  Whatever deal they’d strike, they’d both lose. I’d never let Macalister get what he wanted, and Royce’s betrayal would be too much. But this wasn’t about winning me. It was a power struggle between father and son, and I was merely a pawn to battle over.

  I had to do something, stop this from happening. He’d tell me the truth if it was only us. It burst from me. “I’d like to speak to Royce alone.”r />
  “No.”

  The word came instantly, but not from Macalister, and my insides broke like glass. Shock turned my head toward Royce. No? How could he deny me after everything I’d done for him? I’d waited. I’d let him keep me in the dark. I’d saved him from the worst of it in the dining room downstairs.

  My voice shook just as I did. “You owe me at least a conversation.”

  The man who I believed lived inside him, the one who’d been so caring in the wine cellar, was nowhere to be found. A terrified voice in my mind cried out that maybe he never existed at all. I’d been manipulated. I’d always known he was a spectacular liar. Perhaps the Hale who’d been telling me the truth was the one seated behind the desk and not the boy currently obliterating my heart.

  Royce’s tone was impersonal. “I don’t owe you anything.”

  The engagement ring on my hand was suddenly so tight and heavy, I wanted it gone. Hot tears stung my eyes.

  “Don’t do this,” I whispered, but hearing my plea did nothing to break through his façade. I fractured, and hopelessness seeped through each crack, forcing them wider.

  “Tell me again,” Macalister’s tone was condescending, “how it’s just about sex.”

  His father’s challenge was the final blow.

  “One hundred thousand shares,” Royce demanded, “and I want that in writing.” He said it fast, like a bandage being yanked off a wound, but it didn’t make the pain any easier.

  I went numb as Macalister stood and held out his hand.

  No, I wanted to scream, but horror held my tongue captive. He was going to destroy everything.

  They say when someone shows you who they really are, you should believe them. Now I’d have no choice.

  It all moved so slowly and too fast at the same time. Royce rose from his seat and clasped his father’s hand. Whatever was the truth between us, it died in that moment. It hurt to breathe, but then I didn’t have to because my body refused to work. Every system ground to a halt and shut down.

  Like I wasn’t even in the room, Macalister gestured to the prenup on the desk. “I’ll have this revised to reflect your new assets.”