by Nikki Sloane
NINETEEN
Now
DISAPPOINTMENT HAD ETCHED ROYCE’S FACE when he asked me to go with him into the office this morning and I’d turned him down, claiming I was too nervous. I told him I loved him, wished him luck, and kissed him goodbye.
I hoped he’d forgive my deception when it was all over.
He turned and went down the front steps to the car that was waiting, a pair of headphones in his hand, and I expected he’d spend the entire ride to Boston using them to shut the world out and focus. Maybe he’d listen to Beastie Boys’ “Sabotage” as he visualized the meeting and ran through his notes.
Macalister must have been skulking in the shadows watching us, because as soon as Royce’s car drove away, he appeared at the top of the grand staircase. Every cell in him seemed to be inflated with his pure arrogance as he descended the steps and walked toward me.
“Good morning,” he said.
He probably thought it was.
His appreciative gaze ran over me, taking in the fitted red sheath dress I wore. It was the most powerful color I owned and the same shade as the red, hissing mouths of Medusa’s snakes. I stared back at him in his black three-piece suit and pale gray dress shirt. His tie was rich black and pin-dotted with silver, and the silk of his pocket square matched.
I didn’t acknowledge him with words. I simply lifted an eyebrow, turned, and strode out the front door. The heavy clops of his shoes announced he was following as I walked down the stone steps, heading toward the sleek black Range Rover as it pulled to a stop.
Macalister’s hand was on the door handle before I could reach it, but I didn’t offer any gratitude as I ducked inside the back seat. I slid over the leather bench as far away from him as possible.
He asked it when the door was shut behind him and the car crawled down the driveway, heading for the main road. “How was he this morning?”
“Don’t,” I said. “I agreed to come along, but I didn’t say shit about talking to you.”
He didn’t like what I’d said, but rather than sour his good mood, it made desire flare in his eyes. He loved to be challenged, and he was excited for the impending showdown. He peered at me now as if I could be the amuse-bouche to his main course.
“It’s a long ride to Boston.” He shifted in his seat, angling his knees subtly toward me.
I narrowed my eyes. “If you wanted someone to chat with, you should have invited your wife.”
He let my statement deflect right off him. “Have you considered what he will be like after today? My son doesn’t handle disappointment well.”
“Neither do you. Have you considered how you’ll react if this doesn’t go the way you want it to?”
He smiled like I was being ridiculous. “That’s not possible. I have personal assurances from at least four members, and I’ve made it perfectly clear to the board that voting against me is the fastest way to lose their seat.”
My pulse throbbed and banged. I had to hope at least one of those four had lied to Macalister and told Royce the truth, or he was screwed. I tamped down my fear and let it fill my voice with strength. “I think you’re going to look back on today and be filled with regret, Macalister.”
His laugh was cruel. “Perhaps you’re thinking of Royce.”
I didn’t say another word the rest of the way. He was riding a prebattle high, and it made him more cocky and talkative than ever. He filled the silence with the speech he was preparing to give at the meeting and then revealed who he was confident would vote in his favor.
At least it was the four names I suspected.
It wasn’t until we were alone in the glass elevator and he’d grabbed my hand that I spoke and told him he was nervous. I fought the urge to shake off his hold or remind him he might lose his hand. But either the meeting played out like I hoped it would and this was the last time he ever touched me . . .
Or I’d be in his office afterward, hoping to negotiate my way out of the corner I’d painted myself into. I figured it was best not to react in the moment. Besides, I was holding it together on the outside, but beneath my mortal surface, the gorgon inside hissed and slithered, desperate to break free of her cage. I couldn’t spring her too early, though.
The timing had to be just right.
Oddly, it seemed the closer we got to the battlefield, the more unsure Macalister became. His cold hand was clammy as it clung to mine in the elevator, and we watched the numbers tick up as we climbed into the sky. The trip to Mount Olympus didn’t take long, and when we reached the top, he dropped my hand, and his cold, confident persona snapped back into place.
He was impervious Zeus again as the doors opened and he gestured for me to exit first. He couldn’t have timed it better. Ares stepped out of his office and glanced down the hall, his gaze catching mine.
“Marist?” Royce said. His questioning look froze as he noticed the man at my side, and then my husband turned to stone.
Macalister’s smile was sinister. “I asked her to ride in with me this morning, and she graciously accepted.”
Royce pinned me with a look of hurt, and I felt the stab of it deeply, but I’d prepared myself for this. Yes, it looked like I had chosen Macalister over him, but I hoped my husband could trust me. I grabbed my wedding rings, pulling them off to the first knuckle and then reseated them on my finger. It might have looked like a nervous tick, but did he understand the meaning behind my action? We’d said as long as I wore his ring, I was with him, no matter what lies we told while other people were around.
He came back to life and set a murderous gaze on his father. “How nice for you.”
The hallway was wide and long, but the animosity between father and son filled every square inch. What would it be like when it was confined to the boardroom?
Macalister’s focus didn’t leave Royce, but it was clear he was speaking to me. “My office is one floor up. I’ll have someone show you where it is.” His statement was patronizing. “This shouldn’t take long.”
Royce’s expression was a loud fuck you to his father.
“All right,” I said softly.
When Macalister marched toward the boardroom, I followed. My heart banged so noisily in my chest, I wondered if anyone else could hear it. Royce walked behind me, bringing up the rear of the parade of Hales, and I sensed how badly he wanted to ask me what the fuck was going on.
Macalister hadn’t yet reached the open doorway when he sensed I lingered in his shadow. He stopped and turned, confusion hinting at the corners of his eyes. “You misunderstood. Wait here, and someone will be by to collect you.”
Collect me? Like I was some lost little girl? A short laugh welled up and bubbled out, masking the snarl Medusa gave as she emerged from her shell.
“Oh, no,” I said, my voice dripping with rich satisfaction, “you misunderstand.” I pointed to the boardroom. “I’ll be joining you in there.”
Irritation coursed through Macalister. “No, Marist. This meeting is closed to anyone not seated on the board. You’ll have to—”
“I’m a voting board member today, chairman.”
He would have looked less shocked if I’d slapped him. “Excuse me?”
“Mr. Shaunessy has decided to step aside and make me his proxy.” My gaze went from the older Hale to the younger one, and Royce had a similar look of disbelief. He was so handsome in his black suit and red tie, even when he was frozen in place. I smiled reassuringly at him. “I’ll see you in there, gentlemen.”
They were too stunned to stop me; not that they could, anyway.
It’d been a year since I’d been in this room, and physically it hadn’t changed. There was still the sweeping view of Boston beyond the panoramic window wall, and the long, glossy conference table in the center with tall-backed chairs gathered around it. It was cold and over air-conditioned, despite the summer heat outside, and the men seated at the table were all the same from before.
But the boardroom felt wildly different. Last time I’d stepped in here
, I’d been seeking Macalister’s approval, and now he’d need mine. All the anxiety I’d had when I’d sat for the interview had been replaced with power and determination.
The board members stopped their conversations at my entrance and lifted their heads, treating me to puzzled looks. Mr. Shaunessy’s gaze quickly sank to the tabletop, heavy with dread.
“Liam,” Macalister snapped as he strode into the room behind me, followed by Royce. “What have you fucking done?”
It was like the men were seated in electric chairs and all received the jolt simultaneously. It took me a second to understand their reaction. They’d never heard Macalister curse before. Mr. Shaunessy was up out of his chair so fast, it made it spin. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his boss and stared at Macalister’s tie like it was fascinating.
His meek voice barely reached to the end of the table. “I’ve elected Marist as my proxy for any voting that takes place today.”
A red flush bloomed up Macalister’s neck and peeked out over the top of his collar, but the color didn’t reach his face. It was too full of a dark, ugly look, and there wasn’t room for anything else. He didn’t have to use words to threaten him because his piercing glare was more than enough, and Liam Shaunessy physically withered under it.
But Macalister abruptly straightened, and a calm washed over him. “You’re terminated, effective immediately.” His focus swung to me. “As you are no longer a proxy for a board member, I’ll ask you to leave.”
I stood there in my nude pumps and powerful red dress, grinning darkly. I am two moves ahead of you. “You can fire him from his job, but you can’t remove a director during a board meeting unless you have cause. Isn’t that right, Royce?”
Excitement flashed in my husband’s eyes. “It’s in our by-laws.”
It was there specifically for situations like these. It protected members from retribution if they needed to vote against the chairman.
Macalister’s stare tried to burn a hole into me as he realized how he’d been trapped. He couldn’t cancel the meeting, stop or delay the vote. I’d put him in check, and now we’d find out if he could survive the endgame Royce and I had created, or if he was going to lose, once and for all.
“Do you have cause to remove Liam?” Mr. Burrows asked. He had a soft spot for Royce and been the easiest to sway to our side.
Macalister grabbed the back of his chair at the head of the table and pulled it out, his usually graceful movements jerky with frustration. “Not at this time, although I strongly oppose that he’s willing to risk the future of this great company and pass his power off to someone who has no experience.”
I strode to Mr. Shaunessy’s seat, which was now mine. “I promise I have what’s best for this company in my mind. And you’re aware, more than anyone, how far I’m willing to go to protect it.” My gaze swept over the rest of the table. “Don’t forget, I’ve already proven my loyalty to every person in this room.”
A few of the men shifted uncomfortably in their seats. What they did to me was safe in the darkness of the dining room, but out here, under the bright lights of the boardroom, there was nowhere to hide.
Mr. Shaunessy took one of the empty seats at the far side of the table because he’d have to stay and observe. I smoothed my hands under my skirt and sat in the chair, keeping my posture straight and my chin up. Alice would be so proud of how I looked as I attempted to destroy her husband. I thought of her in her office right now, probably unaware of what was happening in the boardroom just down the hall.
And once the two Hale men were seated, Royce directly across from me, all nine men in the room set their gazes on me and promptly turned to stone, realizing how dramatic the shift in power had just become.
To say the room was tense was an understatement.
It wasn’t welcoming at the table I’d had to buy, negotiate, and blackmail my way to get on, and I stood out in my red dress from the group of men in dark suits, most of whom were twice my age. But I didn’t fucking care if they liked it or not. A year ago, they hadn’t cared whether I liked being on the table, had they?
Medusa impatiently tapped her polished nails on the tabletop, wanting to get started, hungry to vanquish her foe.
Mr. Burrows was the oldest member of the board, but he was a marathon runner and in excellent shape, making him look like he was still in his fifties. His bright eyes blinked as he was the first to break.
“Right.” He glanced down at the iPad before him. “I hereby call to order this emergency session of the board of directors of Hale Banking and Holding and note that all current members are present for the proceedings. Marist Hale is also present, representing Liam Shaunessy’s interests today as his appointed proxy.”
Macalister dropped his arm on the table with an angry thump and ran the tips of his fingers over the pad of his thumb as he spoke. “Yes, let’s get on with it. Royce, you have something you’d like to say?”
If my husband were nervous, I couldn’t tell. All I saw were the beautifully violent eyes of Ares as he drew in a preparing breath and readied his weapons to strike.
“I was against the purchase of Ascension from the beginning. It wasn’t the right time, or the right company, but my father wouldn’t see reason. I had concerns about the numbers over there and that we were taking on a huge risk, but . . . no, I didn’t speak up about it. I should have, but, frankly, it wouldn’t have fucking mattered anyway. My father is obsessed with winning, whether it’s good for the company or not.”
Royce took a moment to look at each member, driving the point home.
“When he discovered the truth about Ascension, he didn’t back down. He just kept pushing for the acquisition, even as he knew what a terrible buy it was going to be. He didn’t care. To him, all that mattered was closing. He carelessly put us into debt to buy Ascension, even as he knew it wasn’t going to bring a return, and the result is millions of dollars lost for our shareholders. You want to know why?”
His expression demanded attention and his words were full of conviction.
“Because the great and powerful Macalister Hale doesn’t believe he’s capable of making mistakes. He’s unfit to continue as the chairman of this board, and I call for a vote of no-confidence in his leadership.”
Cold slithered along the table from Macalister, blanketing the room, and his tone was just as frosty. “Are you finished?”
When Royce nodded, Macalister turned his attention to the rest of the board. It was his turn now to plead his case.
“My son is young, inexperienced, and too impatient to see the long-term gains that are to be had with Ascension. I admit their issues are great, but they’re not systemic. I can and will turn the bow of the ship, but only I have the expertise to do so.”
It was clear he had more to say, but Mr. Lynch looked squirrely sitting beside his boss. “I agree,” he interrupted. “Macalister has my full confidence, and voting any other way would be unwise.”
Spoken like a true lackey.
Mr. Burrows wasn’t fazed by the threat. “I have the same concerns as Royce and, regrettably, must vote no-confidence.”
And just like that, we were off. The rest of Macalister’s prepared argument was pocketed, and it was for the best. I’d heard it in the car this morning and doubted it would change anyone’s mind.
I wasn’t sure who would vote next, but Macalister’s gaze fell on Mr. Powell. His eyebrows pulled together as he contemplated his vote. “While I’m incredibly disappointed in the lack of care Macalister exercised, a change in leadership is the last thing HBHC needs right now. I believe it’s best we weather the storm under his direction.”
“A storm he knowingly steered us into,” Royce pointed out.
Mr. Scoffield looked pained. His turn was next, although he very much didn’t want it to be. His gaze darted to Macalister and then to Royce, and my heart missed a beat. Was he about to back out?
Macalister’s patience cracked. “Well?”
“I vote no-confidenc
e,” Mr. Scoffield said, reluctance filling his expression.
His boss had expected an explanation and when it didn’t come, irritation smeared across Macalister’s face. “That’s it?”
It was.
“Coward,” Macalister growled.
All gazes turned to Mr. Vanderburgh. He was one of the outsiders—a pioneer in the tech industry who’d made his first billion when his company went public. He was young like Macalister, but he was a maverick. He was known more for being creative and lucky than smart and strategic. I’d thought we’d have been able to convince him, but the car ride in with Macalister had confirmed my suspicion.
Macalister liked the balance Mr. Vanderburgh brought to the table, and Mr. Vanderburgh liked the stability the chairman maintained.
“Transitions are messy and painful,” the man said. “I’m with Powell. Trying to install a new CEO right now is a terrible idea.”
Breath evaporated from my lungs, and my mouth went dry. Macalister had three votes, which meant if Mr. Geffen voted in his favor . . . this was all over. There’d be no point in me voting, and all of this would have been for nothing.
Mr. Geffen was a wild card. Royce hadn’t been able to pin him down with any kind of commitment. My focus darted to my husband and my heart careened down to my stomach. What was I going to do if he lost?
You’ll do whatever you have to.
Royce was the persona he’d spent a lifetime perfecting. Cool, calm, and indifferent. As if everything didn’t hinge on the next words out of Mr. Geffen’s mouth. It was a lie, of course. He had to be thinking the same things I was, about how his father would never let this go. Even if we ran away from the kingdom of HBHC, Macalister would haunt us for the rest of our professional lives. His reach was far. Inescapable.
Mr. Geffen placed his hands on the table and laced his fingers together. He too was from outside the company. A former president of Rosso Media Group, he didn’t have a strong banking background, but he was a tough businessman. He was deep in thought as he stared at polished wood and the reflection of the Boston skyline.