by Nikki Sloane
A week ago, Royce had knelt there and asked me to marry him. He’d told me the initiation was just the beginning and hinted things were going to get worse, but I hadn’t expected the first hit to come so soon.
Or to come from him.
I turned in place and faced the spot where the hedges parted, choosing to go back the way I’d come. At least the front section of the maze I was more familiar with.
The storm was like Royce’s gaze on me. It didn’t let up, no matter how uncomfortable it made me. Perhaps he clouded my thoughts, but when I found myself facing the same damn urn in the dead end, an angry sigh punched from my lungs. I could tell it was the same one from before. Part of a hedge root curled over the edge of the base.
I was smart, and this maze wasn’t that challenging. What was wrong with me?
A shiver glanced through my shoulders, but a tingle crept up my spine. I was freezing, but this shiver was something . . . else. I turned, and breath caught in my throat.
He had appeared out of nowhere. An oversized black umbrella hovered over Royce’s head, shielding him from the worst of the rain. His white dress shirt was untouched. Only the hem of his blue suit pants was wet. He was probably ruining his expensive shoes, but then again, he had more than enough money to buy new ones, didn’t he? He’d been filthy rich before he’d struck the deal with his father, and tonight he’d added seven zeroes to his portfolio.
The sight of him made my heart beat faster, and the terrifying thing was I had no idea if it was with anger or relief. Lightning strobed in the sky like giant camera flashes. I gazed at the long, slender metal pole in his hand that lifted the umbrella over his head. Did he want to get struck by lightning? Or did he think he was impervious to his father’s wrath?
We stood across from each other, simply staring as the sky was falling around us. God, his eyes. The shadow of the umbrella did nothing to lessen their intensity.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Are you fucking stupid?” I raised my voice over the unrelenting rain. “What are you doing with that?”
His answer was to pitch the open umbrella to the side. It dropped, bounced to the path at his feet, and I swallowed hard as he let the rain overtake him. It poured over his body, flattening his dark hair and cascading down his shirt. His white shirt. It molded to him, showing off every curve and muscle on his powerful frame. He was so fucking perfect. The only reason I knew he was real and not a statue was the way his chest moved with his uneven breath.
All the while he stared at me, his lips were silent. But his eyes? Those were loud and desperate. I couldn’t look away or escape, and it broke me. The accusation welled up and burst out, tasting like fire. “How could you?”
His shoulders lifted in a deep breath. “I didn’t want to.”
I shook my head. It was a lie. I couldn’t trust anything he said, no matter how convincing he looked or sounded. The fire flamed out, taking all my strength with it. I repeated my question as a whisper. “How could you?”
“Because no one owns you, Marist. He was stupid enough to buy something from me that’s not mine to give.” He shifted, uneasy, as if it were hard to admit. “And because I couldn’t see another way. I don’t think as quickly on my feet as you do.” His posture solidified. “You’re a hell of a lot smarter than me.”
“Don’t,” I hissed. “We’re alone right now. No lies.”
His face contorted under the rivulets of water. “I’m not fucking lying.”
“Your father told me,” the words were broken and jagged, cutting my tongue, “you’d sell me out the first chance you got, and, fuck, that’s exactly what you did.”
“I know.” He took a cautious step toward me. A brilliant line of white light cracked overhead, but he didn’t flinch. Royce didn’t seem to notice it at all. His focus was only on me. “I’m asking you to trust me. I need a little more time.”
With the rain, it was impossible for him to tell if I was crying. I didn’t know myself. My tone was patronizing. “That’s what you need?” Pain edged into my voice. “I don’t think you’re in any position to ask me for something. I gave you a seat on the board. My virginity. A whole year of my life.” My advance toward him was aggressive and adversarial. “I did what you asked, waited for you. I’ve given you everything.”
Maybe even my heart, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. I did my best to stand tall under the force of the storm and his devastating gaze.
“I’m done,” I said. “You understand me? I’m not waiting anymore, especially for someone who screwed up my entire life.” Not just with the initiation either. “Six years ago, you called me a nobody, and nothing’s ever been the same.”
He took another step, bringing him within striking distance. His face was full of regret, but like everything else, it was a lie. He wasn’t capable of remorse—only calculated moves. As the thunder rumbled through the hedges, I swore to myself I wasn’t going to fall for his manipulation ever again.
“The plan I had for my life is over, thanks to you,” I said. I tugged my shoulders back, lifted my chin, and spoke the threat with the most conviction I’d ever possessed. “Get ready, Royce. Expect me to return the favor.”
His lips parted as if he were going to say something but then thought better of it. Had he just choked back an apology? He brushed a hand over his head, slicking back his wet hair, and his gaze drifted down to my left hand. “You’re still wearing it.”
When he’d proposed, he’d told me that every day I wore the ring, it meant I was still with him. Trusting him no matter what he said or did when other people were around.
“Only because I forgot to take it off,” I snapped, although I wondered if it was true.
“You could take it off now.” He watched me cautiously. He’d issued the challenge at me, but his uneven voice gave him away. He didn’t want me to.
Earlier, the ring had been so heavy when he’d abandoned me in the library, and I had wanted it gone. But he was right, I hadn’t taken it off. The weakest part of myself had talked me out of it, but now I was glad. I could use this to my advantage. I’d lie to him and tell him whatever he wanted to hear, just like he did to me. I’d keep my new enemy close.
I toyed with the ring, threatening to remove it. “What if I didn’t?”
His chest expanded. “Then I’d tell you those hundred thousand shares are worth a hell of a lot more than buying them on the open market.”
I paused. “How so?”
He was a spectacular actor because his pained look was very convincing. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not?” My frustration with him reached a new height. He’d never been forthcoming and hadn’t told me his master plan, but obviously it involved some kind of power struggle between him and his father. Royce wanted control of HBHC—he’d said that much.
Was he planning a boardroom coup? No, surely he was too smart to attempt it. Macalister would never allow himself to become vulnerable, and even in the unlikely event that happened, he wouldn’t go down without a nasty fight. Plus, board members never voted against their chairman—it was unheard of. They’d always be loyal to the person who’d given them their seat.
So, trying to go against him would be career suicide.
“You can’t tell him,” Royce said, “what you don’t know.” Water dripped from his long lashes. It sluiced down over the curves of his cheekbones. “It’s better this way.”
“Oh, I see.” My tone was pure bitterness. “You don’t trust me, but I’m supposed to trust you.”
“It’s not that, Marist. I don’t trust him.” His merciless gaze made the rain and the cold fade until it wasn’t noticeable. “If he thinks you know something, he won’t stop until he finds out what it is. The only thing he does better than negotiating is extracting secrets.”
When I flinched at the bright flash of lightning, he used the distraction to make his move. Royce set one hand on my shoulder, gently pulled me into his arms, and pressed me to his chest. The
wet collar of his shirt stuck to my cheek while he smoothed a hand over the back of my head. It may have seemed like a sweet gesture, but it had a purpose. He dipped his lips down to my ear so he could be heard over the thunder surrounding us.
“I’m sorry. I had to.” His words soaked in faster than the rain and were just as unexpected. “But I swear I won’t let anything happen to you.”
My voice was as cruel as I wanted to sound. “Like you did with the initiation?”
He stiffened, and the arms around me turned to marble. There was nothing he could say, no way to defend what he’d allowed. I didn’t blame him for that night. I’d gone into the dining room knowing what was going to happen. I hadn’t just agreed to it—I’d put my consenting signature down in ink.
But he hadn’t protected me. I’d been the one to save us from the worst of it.
If I hadn’t, would he still have gone through with it? Would he have stood by and endured two minutes with me on the table, under his father’s control?
I’d never ask Royce because I already knew the terrible answer.
He’d sold me to his father, after all, and it was win at all costs.
Layer by layer, Royce softened. His arms were heavy cables around me, not letting go but giving me enough space to draw back and stare up at him. Guilt and shame clouded his eyes. “I promise,” he whispered, “I’ll do everything I can, so nothing else happens to you.”
It was like he believed the words he was saying.
I’d strive to be just as good of a liar as he was now, maybe even better.
He searched my face, scrutinizing my dubious expression. It was a statement from him, not a question. “You don’t believe me.”
“What reason have you given me to?”
He frowned. “When it’s just us, I’ve never lied to you.”
Was he kidding? “Oh, really? Tell my why those one hundred thousand shares are more important than me.”
Irritation flashed through his eyes. “I can’t right now, and they’re not more important than—”
“Were you lying when you told your father it was just sex between us?”
The irritation was replaced with relief. “Yes.”
I went in for the kill. “Then what is it?”
His eyes heated, cutting through the cold rain. “More.”
“More, what?” I demanded.
He didn’t falter or hesitate. His hands slid up my back, preventing me from running as he leaned down. He brought his lips right to mine, and they brushed over my mouth as he spoke. “More. A lot more.”
“Don’t,” I warned, although my traitorous insides wanted to melt at his featherlight kisses. He didn’t have any right to kiss me, and I tried to pull away. “You traded me away. I’m not yours anymore.”
His jaw set, and his expression hardened. “You belong with me. I knew it from the moment I saw you laughing at that bar all those years ago. You’re always going to be mine, Marist.” He jammed a hand into my sopping hair and yanked me to his lips. “Whether you want to believe it or not.”
And then he slammed his mouth over mine, sealing up my ability to make any kind of protest.
His kiss scalded. When his tongue slipped into my mouth, it singed my bones, and I turned pliant beneath him. The best lies he told with his lips were the ones where he didn’t use words. I was thankful for the noisy raindrops pelting the trees and pebbled path because it drowned out the sound of the sob welling in my throat.
This was too hard, too much.
I broke off the kiss, lifted my hand, and struck him across the cheek with a crack loud enough to be heard over the rain. The force of my slap turned his head away from me, and for a long moment he stared off, considering what had just happened.
Or maybe the full force of what he’d done was finally sinking in. How he’d changed things between us forever. He turned slowly back to me with embarrassment lurking in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He nodded toward the house. “Let’s get out of the rain.”
The fastest way out of this maze was with someone who knew all its secrets.
I crossed my arms over my chest to hold in my heat as he bent down and retrieved the umbrella. He swung it over our heads as I wiped the rain from my face, and my gaze traced the framework beneath the black fabric.
“You’re holding a metal pole in a lightning storm,” I said.
The corner of his mouth twitched, but it was gone a moment later. We were already alone in the maze, but being tucked together under the safety of the umbrella felt . . . intimate. Like we were hidden from the entire world.
“Assuming we survive the walk back,” he said, “the first thing we need to do is put a lock on your door.”
I kept my tone dry. “Afraid you won’t be able to stay away?”
Royce’s expression was haunting and deadly serious. “It’s not me I’m worried about keeping out.”
Oh, my God.
THREE
I BARELY SLEPT MY FIRST NIGHT in the Hale house. It didn’t matter that the king-sized bed was comfortable or that the sheets were soft. The detergent on the linens was pleasant but unfamiliar. Even with the curtains drawn, shadows seemed to move in unexpected ways in the cavernous room. Every foreign sound echoed and jolted me awake, and my gaze shot to the doorknob.
Thankfully, it never turned. Maybe Royce had exaggerated and there wasn’t any danger of Macalister coming into my room. Perhaps he’d put the fear in my head as a power move.
When sleep finally came, it wasn’t restful. The new room didn’t smell like my home, and it certainly didn’t feel like it either. Would it ever?
I stayed hidden in bed until the Hales left for work and the house went quiet. With them gone, I could finally think. The most effective way to derail Royce’s life was to figure out exactly what he was planning. I thought I’d have the day to explore the house on my own, but my phone buzzed with a text message. Alice, Royce’s stepmother, would be sending a car this morning, and she had several appointments set up for me.
Once I’d been whisked to Boston, I met her and a potential wedding planner for lunch. And when that was done, I was delivered to Alice’s personal shopper with a long list of occasions I needed to be styled for.
There were fundraisers and charity galas. Golf outings, and regattas, and a whole slew of events I would be expected to attend with Royce. His schedule had been synced with my calendar, and I’d been warned this was only the beginning. More parties and events were coming.
The first one on Alice’s list was dinner tonight, because once a week the Hales shared a meal together. So, this evening I’d sit beside my fiancé and be officially welcomed into the family.
In the dining room.
“Are you feeling all right?” the saleswoman asked, worried. She’d noticed my pale face, and perhaps the cold sweat dotting my brow.
“I’m fine,” I said as my stomach twisted into knots.
She put me in a short, rose gold dress that had an open back and a beautiful drape. It was business formal—not dressy enough for a wedding, but much fancier than anything I’d wear to dinner with my own family. It looked nice and sophisticated, though, and hopefully it would give me the confidence I’d need to get through this evening.
Royce made good on his promise. When I returned from my afternoon meetings, there was a deadbolt installed just above the knob on my bedroom door. It was brass and matched the décor perfectly, barely looking out of place. Only its shine gave away its newness.
I wondered if the same could be said of me in this house.
At six-thirty, there was a short knock. “Marist,” came Royce’s voice from behind the door. “It’s time for dinner.”
I balled my hands into fists, shook out the tension through my fingers, and strode to the door.
He was wearing a stone-gray suit with a charcoal colored tie. Like yesterday, he’d come straight from the office and hadn’t changed, but this time he hadn’t relaxed his look. The knot in hi
s tie was sharp and perfect. Everything was buttoned down and polished.
Except for the way his hungry gaze roamed over me. It started at my nude heels and worked its way up, flowing over the pink hued fabric until finally finding my face. His blue eyes hinted at his indecent thoughts, and I did my best to pretend I didn’t care, nor was I having similar thoughts about the way he looked.
My exaggerated tone was sugary sweet. “How was your day, darling?”
He didn’t rise to take the bait. Instead, his appreciative gaze swiped over me once more, before landing on the engagement ring I wore. “Better now.”
Damn him. Unwanted warmth bloomed in the center of my chest. I went to push past him, but he put his arm on the doorframe and blocked my exit.
“Grab your phone,” he said. “You’re going to need it.”
That was strange, but I didn’t question it. I just did as I was told.
We walked together in silence through the hall, down the grand staircase, and as we approached the ornate wooden door to the dining room, trepidation turned my legs into unmovable cement. Panic bubbled in my stomach like over-carbonated cheap wine.
“Wait,” I whispered.
Royce’s warm palm pressed against the bare skin on my back. Not to push me forward, but to connect and calm. “Hey.” He matched my quiet voice. “It’s okay.”
Nothing was okay, though. Behind that door was the long dining table and flickering candelabras and nine men in tuxedos waiting for me—
I’d gone rigid, and Royce’s expression hung. “I, uh, can tell him you’re not feeling well.” He’d done his best to sound convincing, but it was pointless.
“Right. Because that worked out so well for Emily.”
Six weeks ago, my sister had tried to get out of lunch with the Hales, but Macalister hadn’t allowed it. He’d pushed until she’d made an appearance—one that ended with her throwing up all over his hand during their handshake.
Even if Royce told his father I was sick and that worked, it was only putting off the inevitable. I’d be right back in this situation again next week. Better to face it now and get it over with than live with another week of dread.