by Nikki Sloane
I should have sensed the cold breeze, but Macalister had appeared from nowhere. He gave a polite smile. “Please, it’s Macalister. Thank you for coming.” He motioned toward her pregnant belly. “I hope traveling wasn’t too difficult.”
She shot a wary smile to her husband. “Some of us wanted to have a doctor onboard the jet, but,” she emphasized her words, “we were fine.”
A muscle along Joseph’s jawline ticked. He didn’t seem to like her teasing, but then again, the guy seemed rather serious.
She leaned into him as she turned toward Macalister. “Oh, I’m sorry. This is my husband, Joseph Monsato.”
Joseph extended a hand. “We’ve met before, a few years back. Nice to see you again, sir.”
Noemi’s smile froze, and as the men shook hands, her expression was oddly empty. “Of course, you have.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Macalister’s attention drifted to me, “but I came to borrow my future daughter-in-law.”
“For what?” Royce sounded as if he didn’t like that any more than I did.
His father’s chilly gaze made me shiver. “For a dance.”
I stiffened and floundered to come up with an excuse, but my mind went blank as Macalister extended a hand to me. Even though I was dressed now, I felt just as naked as the last time he’d done it.
I couldn’t decline or negotiate my way out of this, and I’d rather deal with it now than delay the inevitable.
His icy hand clasped around mine, and I exchanged a look with Royce as I was led away, one that asked him to rescue me as soon as possible. He stood utterly still, an elegant sculpture, powerless as his father took me away.
Under the crisscrossing strings of lights, the dancefloor was mostly empty. A few couples swayed to the fading slow song, and as Macalister brought us onto the hardwood, the next song began. Nora Jones pleaded in her smoky voice to come away with her into the night.
“Do you waltz?” he asked.
I needed to start a list of things I never thought I’d hear him say to me, and add that one. “Uh, I know how, but my dress—”
He adjusted his hold on my hand and lifted it as he stepped into my space. His other hand slid behind my back, pulling me up against him and into the dance frame. “You’ll do fine. I’ll keep my pattern tight.”
Apprehension corded my muscles like rope twisted to the breakpoint.
Macalister was an imposing man in every aspect. Not just his dominating personality or his striking eyes, but with his physical size. He was broad and tall, and kept himself in excellent shape. He demanded perfection in everything, including himself.
His dancing was no exception. He was confident at leading, making his steps easy to follow, which I needed. I hadn’t danced the waltz since I’d learned to years ago. On one hand, it was surprising he knew how, because this dance was soft and artistic. But on the other, it was elegant and refined, and a precise partnership. I knew how much he liked those things, didn’t I?
I stared up at him as we moved in the boxed pattern, rising and falling with our steps. I could feel his wedding ring on his finger. Did he know where Alice was? That his partner was betraying him right now with his own son? There was a microscopic tug in my chest. I felt bad for him, just a little.
But I had to fill the small space between us with something other than tension and Nora Jones’ sultry song. “Where did you learn to dance?”
“Julia taught me for our wedding.”
“Oh.” It was all I could find to say. The mention of Royce’s mother pulled another string around my heart.
There was no emotion in his eyes, or it was hidden too far back to be seen. His expression gave nothing away. “I’d like to think she would have been very happy tonight. She wanted nothing more than to bring our families together. It may not have happened the way anyone expected it to, but I’m pleased to welcome a Northcott girl into my home.”
I stumbled my steps, and he tightened his grip, preventing me from falling.
“Smile,” he ordered. “People are watching us.”
I did as he asked but couldn’t keep the plea from my voice. “I need a little more time. I’m working to fix my family’s finances.” I didn’t like throwing them under the bus, but could my parents’ reputation really get any worse in Macalister’s eyes? “I need to be home, because my parents have been hiding statements, and they still spend like they’re not . . .”
I wouldn’t say the word ‘broke’ since there were other people around, but I didn’t need to. He obviously understood.
I firmed up my tone. “I’m the only one there willing to deal with reality.”
“I see.” His smile seemed abruptly real. “I understand needing to have control over other people to save them from themselves.” The grip on my hand relaxed and softened. “Especially when you know what’s best for them. You remind me a bit of myself.”
I sucked in a deep breath to keep from ordering him to take it back.
“The financial advisor will take care of all of that, but I’d like you to be comfortable. I’ll have him update you on his progress, and you can discuss your concerns with him at any time. All right?”
He wasn’t about to let me renegotiate. I deflated and my voice lost its power. “All right.”
“Good.” He lifted our clasped hands and pressed his palm on my back, urging me under his arm. As I rounded the turn and came back to him, his expression changed. “I also wanted to take a moment to apologize.”
Apologies typically followed mistakes . . . but surely Macalister didn’t make those.
“For what?”
“I have underestimated you repeatedly.” His hand on my back was higher this time, and his thumb was above the top of the dress, resting against my bare skin. “You’ve proven yourself to be a smart, capable young woman. One who doesn’t buckle under pressure. I respect that.”
Before I could respond, he dropped another bomb.
“And you’re very beautiful, Marist.”
His thumb edged the top of the dress, sliding subtly against my skin. No one would notice it except for me.
“Thank you,” I choked out, making it seem like I was thanking him for his secret touch and not the compliment that made panic pour into my stomach.
“My son is also smart, and capable, and attractive. I would think for most girls, he’d be easy to fall in love with.” Danger lurked in Macalister’s eyes. It simmered in his words. “It’s unlikely a smart girl like you needs a warning, but I will give it anyway, because you already seem quite enamored with each other. Falling for Royce will only end badly.”
Macalister and I moved together, neither needing to pay attention to the steps any longer. We were both locked in each other’s gaze.
“Is that so?” I asked.
“He’s capable of many things, but loving someone else is not one of them.” I must have made a face, because he looked determined to convince me. “Are you already in love? You poor thing. You fought for him today, and yet he’ll sell you out the first chance he gets.”
I knew what this was. Royce had warned me his father was going to screw with us, but I wouldn’t let him.
“I don’t love him, and he doesn’t love me. We’re just playing the roles you gave us. I doubt he even cares about me.”
“I’m glad you can see through to what he’s doing. He’s exceptional at manipulating people and telling them exactly what they need to hear. He’ll lie shamelessly to get what he wants.”
It sounded exactly like something Royce would say about his father.
Macalister’s fingertip brushed once more on the bare skin of my back, and this time his thumb circled one of my vertebrae. “Forgive me.” His voice dipped low. “This happens to be my favorite place on a woman’s body.”
I jolted. Royce had said the same thing a year ago. Was it just coincidence?
Macalister ignored my discomfort, and heat ignited in his eyes, melting the ice and revealing something far more disturbing.
“I should probably get back, Mr. Hale.”
“It’s Macalister,” he said. “You didn’t seem to have an issue saying my name earlier.”
Royce appeared at the edge of the dancefloor, but Macalister shot him a look that dictated he needed another minute.
His tone lowered like it was wrapped in velvet. “You should know I’m quite impressed with you. That’s twice now you’ve forced me into negotiations. However, I always get my way in the end.” A dark look smeared across his face. “You may have spared yourself two minutes with me, but now I want more.”
His words dripped with desire.
“I own you, Marist. And eventually I will have you.”
I gasped and jerked free from his arms but couldn’t escape the horror he’d caused.
He smiled like this was all fine and what he’d just said was perfectly acceptable. “Thank you for the dance.” He nodded, a gentleman biding adieu. “We’ll see each other again soon.”
NINETEEN
I DIDN’T TELL ROYCE what his father had said that night.
In fact, we had been engaged for three days before we saw each other again. He’d been on the board less than twenty-four hours when a software update broke the HBHC site, preventing US users from doing any online banking. It was an ‘all hands on deck’ crisis. My father slept in his office every night until it was resolved.
While Royce was focused on the company, it seemed like the rest of the world was focused on us. My feed was full of pictures from the party. It was beyond bizarre to see Royce and me lumped in with the real celebrities who had been there.
On Wednesday morning, my family met with the man who would handle the Northcott estate, and we signed the releases to give him access to everything. My mother had struggled with it. When she tried to back out and claim they could do it without help, I had to go the tough love route.
The harsh reality I painted for her made her cry.
But the advisor could negotiate rates and payment plans and dig us out of the hole in a third of the time it’d take us to do it on our own.
She glared at me as she signed one document after another. I’d been cold and direct because my frustration with them was reaching critical mass. After everything I’d done for my family’s sake, they weren’t just ungrateful—they had the nerve to act like I was the bad guy.
Sadly, I gained new understanding into Macalister’s desire to control others. If left on their own, it was likely my family would destroy themselves.
Dread pooled in my center as I drove up to the Hale estate and parked beside the garage. Royce had told me his father and Alice were still at the office, which helped with some of my anxiety, but I wasn’t looking forward to the conversation I needed to have about what I’d seen in the woods.
Or what his father had said to me.
I climbed the steps outside, and by the time I’d reached the front door, it swung open, revealing Royce in jeans and a t-shirt. He was so dressed down from the last time I’d seen him, but he still looked great. Less polished, but confident and in command.
Summer was in full effect outside, but as I came into the house, I understood why he was wearing jeans. It was freezing. “The air conditioning must be working overtime.”
He quirked his lips into a tight smile. “My father says he thinks better when it’s cold.” He shut the door behind me, cupped a hand on my cheek, and dropped a quick kiss on my lips. “Hi.”
It was crazy how powerful his effect over me was. One chaste kiss and I was suddenly warm, even as goosebumps pebbled on my legs beneath my shorts. “Hi,” I answered back.
“So, this is the foyer.”
What? I peered at him with confusion. “I can see that.”
His eyes were playful. “It’s where we’re starting our tour.”
“Oh. I see.” I’d grumbled to him earlier how I hadn’t seen half of the house I was going to be living in. I glanced around and pretended to evaluate the space as if seeing it for the first time. “Yes, very nice.”
Royce headed to the left and showed me the formal sitting room. We saw the casual living space, a guest suite, and the all-seasons room at the back of the house where we’d waited with his family for announcements. He took me into the sprawling kitchen and showed me where the important things were. Silverware. Glasses. Everyday plates.
He avoided the dining room, pretending it didn’t exist, which I appreciated.
The steps to the basement were narrow. The room to the right was the home movie theater. Leather recliners were placed in two tiered rows in front of a large screen, and a projector hung overhead.
The room on the left was the wine cellar. It was all maple-colored racks lining the walls and warm brick. A wrought iron chandelier dangled from the arched ceiling. Royce barely gave it a passing comment, but the cozy room was inviting.
“Wow, this is nice,” I said as I stepped inside.
There was a dining table in the center of the room, and four wine glasses rested upside down on a silver platter in the middle. There was also a brown love seat and a wet bar against the far wall.
“Does your family do many tastings in here?” I fingered the neck of one of the bottles in the rack beside me. The label was pretty.
“No. We hardly ever use it.”
The room wasn’t really a cellar, it was a lounge meant for entertaining. “That’s a shame. This room is amazing.”
“No one comes down here, but you can whenever you want. It’s quiet.”
It was quiet. It felt like Royce and I were all alone, hidden underground. My tone was grave. “I have to tell you something.”
He stiffened, bracing for whatever was coming. “What is it?”
“It’s about Alice and Vance. When I was coming back up the hill, I . . . saw them together.”
Royce blinked slowly. “Together,” he repeated flatly. “Were they fucking?”
“Uh, she was going down on him.”
His expression didn’t change. “Sorry you had to see that.”
“You knew?” I gasped.
“Yeah, they’ve gotten sloppy recently about hiding it. As you can attest.”
I turned my gaze away, staring at the rack and the bottles that lay on their sides. “I don’t understand. Alice cares so much about image, and if they were caught—”
“Yeah.” His firm word drew my attention. “It’d be a big scandal. One that’d be much too big for my father to ignore.”
How did he mean that? Was Alice doing it to get her husband’s attention?
“He doesn’t know?”
“I don’t think so, but hardly anything happens here he doesn’t know about.” He took a step in my direction, closing most of the space between us. “Whatever she had with my dad, it’s gone now. It ran its course. She still loves him, and she can’t leave him—although I don’t think she wants to, anyway.”
Nervousness sapped all the strength from me. “Is that going to happen to us?”
God, his eyes were intense, and it was so beautiful, it was hard to look at. He said it quietly but with conviction. “I hope not.”
Why was it painful to admit? “I like you.”
“I kind of figured that out already.” His half-smile was irritating.
“Royce.” I didn’t appreciate him being cocky when I’d made myself vulnerable.
But he slipped his arms around me and tilted his forehead until it was pressed against mine. “If you haven’t figured out yet just how much I like you, then you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”
He delivered his first kiss slow and sweet. But the second one? It smoldered. It hinted there was fire waiting for me on the other side. All I had to do was stoke it and we’d both burst into flames.
I skimmed my hand down the front of his shirt, not stopping until I hit the bulge growing behind his zipper. In retaliation, he grasped a handful of my ass through my shorts and squeezed.
Everything went hard. His grip on me. His dick under the stroke of my hand.
His mouth moving against mine.
And the sudden need to have it finally be our moment.
Whatever he was thinking about, the decision had been made. He turned us, and I stumbled back into the corner between the brick wall and the side of a wine cabinet, making the bottles rattle quietly on their perches.
Royce’s hands weren’t gentle or cautious. He clasped a palm over my breast and, dissatisfied it was covered, he jammed that hand up under my t-shirt. It took him no time to find my nipple through the cup of my bra, and his pinch left me hot and achy in more than one place.
It distracted me from my task, but not for long. I raked my fingernails over the denim shielding his erection and enjoyed how his eyes clouded with lust.
“We’re doing this now, huh?” His whispered question was full of seduction.
“You said no one comes down here.”
He stepped away, leaving me panting against the corner, but it was only so he could close the door. As he stalked back to me, his determined focus made heat pool in my body and flow to my center.
His kiss was aggressive. Brutally passionate. Tension built in me, in both of us.
He jerked the hem of my shirt up, and I raised my arms, helping him strip it off. As soon as it was done, I returned the favor, stretching his cotton shirt up over his head and hurling it to the floor.
I traced the lines of his bare chest, marveling at how good he felt in my hands. There was a ring on my finger saying I was his, and tonight he was absolutely mine.
“I want you naked,” I pleaded.
He grinned a smile full of sex and sin, and it announced he had every intention of giving me what I wanted. As he reached around my body and undid the hook of my bra, he murmured it in my ear. “Same, Marist.”
It was a frenzy after that, both of us fumbling with the other’s pants, a race to see who could undress the other first. Except my hands were clumsy. I wasn’t a virgin anymore, but this was still brand new. I’d never even seen him fully naked.
When our clothes were discarded piles around us, he yanked me away from the wall. I was walked backward, his kisses hot and greedy and distracting, and it was the bump of the hard edge of wood on the back of my thighs that announced we’d reached the table.