The Initiation

by Nikki Sloane

  My shoulders rose and fell as I struggled to catch my breath. “You mean, Royce and I—?” My gaze flicked toward the man seated across from me. He hadn’t moved, but there was an edge of excitement in his blue eyes.

  An unwanted flash of heat coursed through me, when it should have been disgust.

  “You will marry my son,” Macalister stated flatly. “In exchange, I’ll forgive your parents’ mortgage and they can keep the house that’s been in your mother’s family for four generations. For appearances’ sake, your father will continue at the company, but his finances will be taken over by a manager of my choosing.”

  Because he wouldn’t want any scandal with his daughter-in-law’s family, and more likely, because he preferred having total control.

  My voice was hollow. “If I don’t?”

  “Charles will have to find employment elsewhere.” Macalister’s expression was a storm, and he dropped the pretense. “I’ll foreclose on the house, and everyone will know how your parents squandered their money. When I’m done, you won’t even have your reputation. You’ll be left with nothing.”

  My mother burst into tears, and my heart tore down the middle. One side ached for her and this humiliation, and the other side was hot with anger. They’d seen this coming for years and purposefully kept it from my sister and me. They hadn’t scaled back or tightened their belts. How could they continue living like nothing was wrong? Was it avoidance? Or pure denial?

  I sucked in a breath through my teeth as another idea took shape. Perhaps they had a plan and had just been biding their time. Maybe they’d been counting on Emily marrying Royce and bailing them out.

  It was the anger that gave me strength, although it couldn’t be heard in my voice. I’d been told Macalister was a ruthless negotiator, but I was about to find out firsthand. “I . . . have a counteroffer.”

  His shoulders snapped back like I’d asked if his Cartier watch was a fake, but I sensed he was simply posturing. He probably enjoyed this sort of thing. “My offer was more than generous.”

  I ignored him. “If I agree to marry Royce,” hysterical laughter bubbled in my throat, but I tamped it down, “we keep the house, my father keeps his job and agrees to the financial planner.”

  Macalister’s irritation swelled to outright anger. “That’s the exact offer I just proposed.”

  A tremble worked its way up my legs but was thankfully hidden beneath the table. Outwardly, I tried to match his merciless personality. I said it before I lost the nerve.

  “And also, ten million dollars.”

  SIX

  A DEAL IS DEEMED GOOD when neither side is happy at the end of negotiations, and right now Macalister Hale looked very, very unhappy.

  I could relate.

  My parents gaped at me. A stunned, short laugh came from Royce and hung awkwardly in the air.

  Macalister’s question was deadly quiet. It was scarier than if he’d shouted it at me. “Are you out of your mind?”

  Obviously, I was, because I was considering this absurd deal. I had no desire to be married at twenty-one, and even less interest in becoming Mrs. Royce Hale. But what choice did I have? My entire family was broke, soon none of us would be employed, and it was likely my sister had a baby on the way.

  I risked angering him further, and my voice warbled with a tremble. “Ten million isn’t that much to you.”

  “No.” Rather than storm away from the table, he leaned over it, getting closer to me. “Understand something. I’m already forgiving a huge mortgage. I’m not stupid enough to extend your parents another loan.”

  “It wouldn’t be a loan.” I scrambled to come up with something. Anything to leverage. How deep did our money troubles run? What if my parents had years’ worth of back taxes outstanding? Beneath the table, I balled my hands into fists. “Think of it as a reverse dowry. You’d be buying my silence and . . .” I choked it out, “loyalty to Royce.”

  Meaning I was essentially selling myself to him.

  Macalister’s eyes went thin as he evaluated it, and he made me wait a lifetime before speaking. “Five hundred thousand.”

  Relief and terror mixed inside my stomach. I was a freight train, barreling along much too fast and locked in on a path with one destination. Negotiations had started, and there was no turning back. I needed as much money as I could get. “Eight million.”

  His sneer cut me in half. “You think I’d be willing to pay that much? It’s insulting.”

  “No more than your counteroffer.”

  The corner of his eyes crinkled. He was surprised I hadn’t backed down, and perhaps intrigued. “I want this done. Two.”

  I was terrified to push my luck but went for it. “Five.”

  There was no emotion on his face. No hint of what he was thinking or what would happen next. He could laugh, he could curse, or he could walk away and leave us with nothing. I waited with painful anticipation.

  “Five million dollars, Marist Northcott,” he said, “and you better be the perfect, dutiful wife. You will look and act exactly how we tell you to. A paradigm of class, the girl who everyone looks up to and wants to be.”

  Oh, God. It was impossible to breathe. How was a nobody like me supposed to accomplish that?

  “If you don’t receive approval from the board, this offer is revoked. The house, the money, everything evaporates. You understand?”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded.

  “Then, we have a deal?” It was more statement than question from him.

  “Marist.” My mother’s voice was a ghost. “We’ll figure something out. You don’t have to do this.”

  Who was she fucking kidding? Of course, I did. Up until now, my life had been easy. I’d been protected. My parents had spoiled Emily and me and given us anything we’d ever wanted. They’d ensured I’d never had to sacrifice or struggle.

  I peered across the table at the man who looked a lot like his father but hadn’t gained as hard of an edge yet. I traced the lines of Royce’s fingers with my gaze and couldn’t help but think about how he’d made me come. How he’d shattered me so completely with that same hand when he’d push me against the bookcase and jammed it inside my panties.

  I could still smell the dusty, oaky scent of the library even now.

  Agreeing to this was hard and unfair . . . but there were worse things than having to marry into one of the wealthiest families in the country. Becoming a Hale wasn’t exactly a death sentence.

  It wouldn’t be—as long as I didn’t lose who I was along the way.

  “Yes.” I said it so softly it was impossible to hear, so I cleared my throat and strived for an even, sure tone. “I agree.”

  Royce’s unexpected smile made my heart stumble. Was I reading him right? He looked pleased at my answer, like he wanted this. What kind of sense did that make?

  His father’s reaction was far more muted. Macalister was relieved to have an unpleasant task completed. He rose from his seat, reached across the table, and extended his hand. I smoothed my palms down on my skirt as I stood, wiping the sweat from them, and took the first handshake Macalister had ever offered me, sealing the deal.

  His grip was overpowering and dominating, and I had the terrible feeling this was only a small taste of the control he craved. He held on to me as he spoke. “While I would have preferred you accepted my initial offering, I respect that you didn’t. Maybe there’s a brain in there beneath that ridiculous hair you’ve got.” His compliment was mostly backhanded. Then he added, “I can see why Royce likes you.”

  Since he still had hold of me, Macalister had to feel the jolt traveling through my body. My gaze snapped to his son. Alarm blared loudly on Royce’s expression but was shuttered instantly.

  “I don’t,” he said quickly. “Like I told you before, either Northcott girl is fine with me.”

  My brain quit functioning, and the word fired off before I could rein it in. “Wow.”

  As he retreated into his emotionless, statue-like
state, I must have misinterpreted his reaction from before. He didn’t care about my sister or me. We were interchangeable women to be married off. Merely a commodity.

  Aren’t you?

  I’d just sold myself to him.

  Turmoil churned in my belly, and for a moment, I wondered if I too would throw up all over Macalister’s hand. I jerked back and forced my anxiety down. The full scope of what I’d agreed to hadn’t hit me yet, and I needed to keep it together long enough until the Hales were gone. Then I could process the terrible decision I’d made.

  A sinister smile lifted on Macalister’s lips as he looked at his son, as if he wanted to see Royce squirm. “If that’s true, what was all that on the car ride over here?”

  “It was nothing.” His voice was clipped. “I think it’s time for dessert.” When no one moved, he prompted my mother. “Mrs. Northcott?”

  God, what an arrogant prick.

  I didn’t eat any of the chocolate tart Delphine served. My parents didn’t either, unless my mother pushing around the raspberries with her fork counted. My family had no appetite following all the shit that went down. We sat as captives while Macalister laid out the instructions for the next month of my life.

  An appointment was set up with Alice Hale. Royce’s stepmother would meet me at her favorite salon and personally approve the “drastic changes” Macalister said were required to bring me in line with the Hale brand. Obviously, my evergreen hair color would be the first thing to go.

  After coaching, which I was sure would be extensive, I’d sit for an initial interview with the board of HBHC. If I passed, a more extensive interview would be held just before the party celebrating Royce’s new position. It would be lavish and extravagant, and the event of the year.

  If I was approved, Macalister would announce his son’s engagement to me during his toast that evening.

  I saw my opening for a momentary escape when Delphine came in and began to clear the untouched desserts. I set my napkin on the table and seized my plate. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  My legs wobbled as I pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen, and the plate clattered as I set it beside the sink. Delphine followed right behind me. Did she know? Did she have any idea my parents were in deep financial trouble and she could be out of a job very soon? Her questioning look was too hard to stomach, and I fled into the empty sitting room.

  I shut the door and sank back against it, closed my eyes, and cupped a hand to my forehead. I fought my trembling bottom lip because I was on overload, but I refused to succumb to my emotions. I didn’t want to face them again with a blotchy face and give them the upper hand, plus crying wasn’t going to solve anything.

  And it certainly wasn’t going to undo what had been done.

  Holy shit, I said I’d marry Royce. Until now, I’d spent my life obscured in Emily’s shadow and I liked it that way. There would be nowhere to hide once I became the princess of Cape Hill.

  Deep breaths.

  You might not make it that far.

  If I couldn’t win the ridiculous approval of the board, at least I’d bought some time to get my parents’ finances in order. With a plan of action drafted up, the helplessness inside me dimmed just enough so I could straighten, press my cool fingertips to my warm cheeks, and calm down. I turned, pulled open the door, and buried my face in a dress shirt as I collided with a hard, male chest.

  Royce’s hands clamped down on my shoulders.

  My gasp had no impact on him. He drove me back into the room and pulled the door closed behind us. His expression was . . . off. He had the audacity to look concerned.

  “Are you all right?”

  I blinked. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “If it helps, I have about as much say in this as you do.”

  “No, it doesn’t help, and that cannot be true.” My shoulders tensed. Even though he was no longer touching me, the warmth of his palms lingered against my bare skin.

  Frustration was an interesting look for him. The spoiled rich boy probably didn’t have a lot of experience dealing with it. He always got whatever he wanted. Royce brushed back the sides of his suit coat as he rested his hands on his hips. It showed off his trim form and the curves of his powerful arms.

  Stop looking at him like that.

  “Believe what you want, but it’s true,” he said. “I do what I’m told because there’s no alternative. Everything is planned or scheduled. I don’t get to make decisions because my entire fucking life has already been scripted.”

  I didn’t want to believe him, but it echoed true. Macalister’s controlling personality was everywhere. My father had told me a story once how his boss had dictated what each staff member would wear during an audit.

  Royce’s expression warmed unexpectedly, and his voice dipped low. “But you and me? I was . . . hoping for this outcome.”

  Did he think I was stupid? “You literally said ‘either Northcott girl is fine.’”

  “I said that to protect you.” His tone was sincere. “It was a lie, Marist. Like I told you last year, I’m not interested in your sister.”

  At the memory, the room seemed to grow smaller the longer Royce and I stood alone in it. “Protect me from what?”

  He gave a pointed look, as if the answer were obvious.

  He was protecting me from his father. I sucked in a breath and matched his gentle tone. “Why?”

  “I don’t have time to explain right now. I need your phone. I told them we were exchanging numbers.”

  I begrudgingly dug it out of my dress pocket and passed it to him. “Right. Because you should probably have your fiancée’s number.”

  He ignored my sarcasm and typed in the new contact, then texted himself from the phone. When done, he held it out to pass it back. Only he used it as an opportunity to jerk me close. His free hand slipped onto my cheek, forcing me to meet his intense gaze.

  He was so close, a kiss threatened, and although our lips hadn’t touched, it was powerfully intimate.

  “You’re not my fiancée, Marist. Yeah, you made the deal out there, but I haven’t asked you to be my wife.” His gaze roamed across my face, like he was memorizing each detail, before finally ending on my lips. His whispered words brushed over my sensitized skin. “Not yet.”

  Was he talking about proposing?

  Or kissing me?

  He carried out neither threat. Instead, he abruptly released me, and my body was bereft in his absence. Everything was off-balance. And like he’d done last time we’d been alone, he turned on his heel and was out the door before I could utter a word.

  Numbness took up residence in my heart that afternoon after the Hales left.

  Emily cried as she told our parents she thought she was pregnant, but her shame at disappointing them shifted to fear as they confessed how much financial trouble we were in. I emulated Royce and sat eerily still on the patterned couch in the front room, an emotionless expression slathered on my face like the makeup I’d been asked to wear.

  It was the first time I’d seen my father break down, and it was unnerving. Once again, I didn’t want him to surrender so quickly. Why didn’t he fight or defend himself?

  Horror splashed across Emily’s face as my mother explained—in between her choked sobs—the deal I’d made with Macalister to try to save us. My sister leaned across the couch and seized my hand in a vise-like grip. “Marist, no. You can’t marry him.”

  My voice was detached. “Sure, I can.”

  My lack of emotion only increased hers, and panic flooded her face. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  She glanced at our parents before returning her focus to me. “You don’t love him, and he’s a Hale. They can’t love anyone but themselves.”

  Was that true? Was Royce capable of loving another person, or was he Narcissus? In the myth, he’d refused all others and wasted away staring at the only thing he’d been cursed to love—his own reflection.

  “There are worse things than marryin
g Royce Hale,” I said.

  “Like what?” she snapped.

  I lost the reins on my emotions for a moment. “Oh, I don’t know. Being pregnant and homeless?”

  Her eyes went white from the pain I’d inflicted, then filled with tears.

  “Shit.” Shame poured onto my shoulders, weighing me down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  Emily shook her head, silencing me as she brushed the tears away that had collected in her eyes. I didn’t want to be mean. I understood everyone was fragile, but we didn’t have time to sit around feeling sorry for ourselves. My parents had squandered that time just as they had their money.

  Thanks to Royce’s cruel comment about me while I was in high school, I’d survived on the fringe of high society. I was certain the rest of my family wasn’t strong enough to do the same.

  If our name was all we had left, then—fuck—I’d do everything in my power to keep it.

  SEVEN

  DIAMONDS AND SAPPHIRES GLITTERED in the glass box in front of me, and the modern crystal chandelier overhead sparkled, radiating rainbows down on the carpet. The store was decorated in creams and grays so it wouldn’t compete with the breathtaking gems on display. I was at the back, waiting patiently on the edge of my seat for the owner to meet me. For once, traffic had cooperated and the drive into Boston had only taken forty-five minutes, which meant I had arrived early for our appointment.

  It forced me to stare at the jewelry locked in the case before me. The gorgeous diamonds were so clear, they looked cold and heavy. Was that how it would feel when Royce slipped an engagement ring on my finger? Like an anchor? I swallowed a breath and tucked a lock of my doomed green hair behind an ear.