The Obsession (Filthy Rich Americans Book 2)
Page 13
Royce referred to the company in one of the most recent emails as CRNE, but I wasn’t familiar with whatever business that was an acronym for. Google wasn’t any help either. All the results were either the Canadian nurses’ exam or a privately-owned sanitation company in Chicago that didn’t trade.
I sat back in my chair and frowned. None of it made sense.
A notification popped up in the corner of my screen telling me that the final bell had rung on the markets, and HALE had closed at the price of $102.82. Down another sixty-two cents from yesterday. My gaze flicked to Royce’s office. The one hundred thousand shares he’d sold me for had lost $62,000 in value since yesterday.
My focus settled back on the computer screen, and I stared at the ticker symbol. Rather than use their acronym, HBHC had chosen the name Hale as their identifier on the New York Stock Exchange. I sat up straight and punched the keys on the keyboard, looking up to see if CRNE was a stock ticker symbol.
It was.
Ascension Bank and Trust wasn’t as big as HBHC, but the rival bank wasn’t small either. They were still a Fortune 100 company, and they’d been around almost as long, although a merger had changed their name a few years ago.
Before then, they’d been Crane Bank Corp and they’d kept the CRNE ticker symbol after the name change.
My mind raced with a new question. Why would Royce invest so much in another company, and a competitor at that, if his life’s goal was to run HBHC? I couldn’t see any other reason to buy such a large stake in a rival company, except ownership. He was going to buy Ascension—it was what he needed more money for.
With that puzzle piece in place, the others fell in, and I finally saw the whole thing. He couldn’t buy his family’s company out from under his father, he’d need another company to do it. And Ascension was perfect.
Holy. Shit.
Royce was plotting a hostile takeover of HBHC.
TWELVE
MACALISTER SAT BEHIND THE DESK IN THE LIBRARY, looking like he was a king and ready to hold court. If he expected me to bow and cower, he could think again. The sting of the needle that had buried ink in my skin was still there, and I used the pain as fuel.
He’d crossed a line last night, and I was determined to push him away, back over to the side where he belonged.
“Good evening,” he said. There wasn’t a smile on his face, but it lurked in his voice.
I locked down my shoulders to prevent the shudder from rippling out and focused on my task. I sat in my seat and moved my pawn, not giving him any of my attention.
Even though my gaze stayed focused on the board, I sensed his hesitation.
“Don’t be rude.” He said it like a threat.
I lifted my defiant gaze to his and matched his cold tone. “Hello.”
He looked dissatisfied with my short response but made his opening move. “I read your book.”
I moved another pawn, using that to make my statement.
“Aren’t you curious to know what I thought of it?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me, regardless.”
Oh, he didn’t like that. His eyes went to slits. “I do not appreciate your tone when I’m trying to hold a conversation with you.”
“And I didn’t appreciate what you did last night, so no more conversations. I’m here to play chess, and that’s it.”
He didn’t take his calculating eyes off me as he moved his knight. “Am I to understand you’re upset that I gave you two orgasms?”
I wasn’t going to take his bait or blush at what he’d said. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my keys, and surrendered them to the desk. “That was the last time I’ll play your game.”
“Is that so?” He glared at the keys, offended by them. “I believe I told you to turn those in to Royce. I think he should know why you’re giving them up.”
“I agree,” I said. “That’s why I already told him this afternoon.”
His reaction was subtle, but I caught the way his shoulders straightened, and his eyes widened. My move had caught him off guard. “I don’t believe you.”
“Call him in here and ask him.” I crossed my arms over my chest, touching the sore spot beneath my arm where Medusa lived. “I’m not a good liar, but I’m not a Hale yet. I’m sure I’ll get better.”
Macalister’s eyebrow spiked up so high it was a perfect upside-down V. “You should think very carefully about the next thing you say to me.”
It was silent for a tense moment before I spoke, and I meant it in more than one way. “It’s your move.”
Anger simmered through his expression, but then it faded as he brought it under control. “I won’t allow you to quit when we’ve barely begun.”
I shook my head. “I’m done.”
He’d told me to think two moves ahead, and I had. I couldn’t win—the only way was to not play at all.
“No,” he said. “We had an agreement.”
I didn’t acknowledge his protest. “When we’re done with our chess match, I’ll bring the box back to you.”
“No, Marist.” He looked strangely human and desperate. “I’m not ready for this to be over.”
His admission seemed shockingly genuine and froze me in place.
After a heavy pause, his shoulders lifted on a deep breath. “I realize now I came on too strong last night. I apologize. Going forward, we can move at whatever speed you feel comfortable with.”
He still didn’t get it. “Macalister, there is no going forward. I’m never going to feel comfortable with what we did, and we’re never doing it again.”
His hand was resting on the desktop, and it curled into a fist, his thumb brushing back and forth over his fingers absentmindedly. He was deep in thought, figuring out how to get what he wanted.
“Keep it,” he said abruptly. “It was a gift, and you’ll change your mind.”
My voice was steel. “I won’t.”
The setting sun outside the window cast a soft glow across his face, but the warmth didn’t touch him. His expression was absolute.
“We’ll see.”
Since I’d confessed my sins to Royce, he’d largely steered clear of me. There were no more offers to leave the grounds and go someplace where his father’s rules didn’t apply. We continued our charade of being a lovestruck couple when we were in public, but as soon as we were safely out of view, he’d drop my hand and dig out his phone.
To be fair, he did have a lot on his mind.
I hadn’t let on that I’d figured out his plan. I wasn’t sure what to do with the information, partially because I only knew the broad details. I had no idea when he was going to pull the trigger on it, or if his offer to buy Ascension would be friendly or hostile.
And even if he acquired his target company, what then? He had a lot of HBHC stock personally, but once Macalister got a hint of what his son was planning, he’d employ all the defenses available to keep his company in his hands.
Takeover attempts were expensive for everyone involved, and most of the time they failed.
The odds were so heavily stacked in Macalister’s favor, it was shocking to me Royce was even considering it. Yet he’d been planning this thing for a while. It had to have taken him years to accrue that much Ascension stock on the open market.
I could disrupt his life so easily now. One careless mention to Macalister as we played our nightly chess game, and Royce’s plan would disintegrate. And it was probably in his best interest if I stopped him now, before he lost everything. Macalister would take away Royce’s seat, and what was left of their strained father-son relationship would implode, but at least my future husband wouldn’t go broke.
I had good reasons to tell Macalister what I knew, and yet every night I couldn’t bring myself to do it. For weeks, we played, he talked, and I lost each night. It was like we were stuck on repeat.
The first week of my final year at Etonsons was surreal. It felt like I was back in my old life. I sat in the lecture hall, disappearing amongst all the o
ther faceless students . . . until I noticed the magazine the girl in the row in front of me was reading before class began.
Our engagement pictures had been released to the media last week. Alice had selected two. One where I was sitting on Royce’s lap beneath the fountain, and a closeup where he was kissing my hand, showing off the stunning engagement ring. The first time I’d seen the photos, they’d taken my breath away.
Sophia Alby had said Royce and I were a fairytale, one that everyone wanted to be a part of. But I was convinced no one truly wanted that fairytale story more than I did. The camera made a very convincing liar out of me. It all looked so real.
On a Friday, I met Alice in the lobby of the dress store. Donna Willow, the designer who’d dressed us both for Royce’s promotion party, had flown in exclusively to show us her designs for the anniversary gala. It was quite the contrast from the shopping experience last month with my mother who, as I’d feared, had tried to exceed her budget and asked for my help convincing the financial manager to give her more money.
She had caviar tastes and would never get used to having to live on a tuna fish budget.
The designer, wearing all black, stood next to a rack of her dresses and supervised her assistant as the girl steamed wrinkles out of the garments. When she saw us, Donna smiled and gestured for the assistant to stop.
“Alice,” Donna said, “I swear you look younger every time I see you. How are you?”
I stood awkwardly by my future step-mother-in-law’s side while she chatted with her friend. It was only the first week of classes, and I already had a ton of work to do, so I was hoping this appointment would go quickly.
Donna pulled a peacock blue dress down off the rack, handed it to Alice, and sent her off toward the dressing room. There was no discussion between the women. No comments about color or any other options presented.
“Now,” she set her sights on me, “do you trust me?”
Of all the people I’d gotten to know over the last few months, ironically, Donna Willow was the person I trusted most. “I do.”
“Good. Don’t let Alice tell you it’s too costume-y.” She dug through the rack and had to use both of her matchstick thin arms to support the full dress as she pulled it out for me to see.
“It gorgeous,” I breathed. And it was beyond perfect.
She beamed at me. “It’s also quite heavy, so if you don’t mind?”
“Of course.” I eagerly took the hanger from her, scooped up the bottom half of the garment in an arm so it wouldn’t drag on the floor, and hurried to change into it.
It was strapless like the red dress, but not a corset. The fit and flare style dress hugged my figure all the way to my knees before bursting out into a skirt full of volume and layers. The silhouette was flattering, but that wasn’t what made me fall in love. It was the rich green fabric with slightly different tones that gave it a texture quality. Clear beading was carefully placed, flashing a hint of sparkle when I moved, like a scale catching the light. It gave a subtle nod to the interpretation of a snake, including the train trailing behind me like a tail.
I was the modern Medusa, a serpent ready for a black-tie event.
Alice was already on the pedestal out front, scrutinizing herself in the mirrors. The off the shoulder blue dress fit her like a second skin, flaunting her statuesque form. The outer layer of the skirt was tulle and see-through, and it trumpeted outward while the underskirt stayed straight. Like a peacock’s fan of feathers against its svelte body.
I was Medusa, but she was the perfect vision of Hera, queen of the gods.
“You look amazing,” I said.
“Oh.” Alice pressed her fingers to the hollow of her neck as a shy smile teased her lips. “Thank you.”
Her gaze met mine through the mirror, and she took in the green dress I wore, and for a moment she looked . . . displeased. But the emotion retreated. She flashed a vacant smile, stepped off the pedestal, and gestured for me to take her place.
I fell even more in love with the green dress when I could see it from all the angles, but Alice gave me a hard look in the mirror. “I’m not sure about this one.”
“I am,” a male voice said.
I didn’t have to see him to know who it was, but my heart fluttered as I turned and gazed at Royce over my shoulder. I’d been so busy with school I’d barely seen him all week, and . . . was it possible he’d gotten hotter? There was a brightness in his eyes that made my knees go soft.
“What are you doing here?” I asked lightly. Could he hear I was happy to see him?
He shrugged. “I had time.” His gaze left mine and swept slowly down the lines of the dress. “Green is my favorite color.”
A nervous laugh bubbled from me because he’d said it so seriously, and the way he looked at me made my fluttering heart worse. “You only like it because it’s the color of money.”
“Well, all of my favorite things are green.” His expression was cryptic. Unreadable. “Or they were, at some point.”
I flashed back to our first night together more than a year ago when he’d cornered me in the library. I’d had green hair and red lips, and he’d told me I was beautiful.
God, if he kept this up, I was going to need to sit down.
“Do you like it?” he asked me.
I nodded, hoping it could shake loose the fog he created in my mind. “It’s perfect.”
His lips lifted into an effortless smile, and my insides went boneless. Had something good happened? It was like a switch had been flipped in him, and the man he’d been with me before had returned.
Royce’s focus shifted to Alice, but he nodded back toward me. “Mind if I steal her for a moment?”
She waved a hand, dismissing us, and went back to admiring herself in the mirror, pulling at the waist of the dress where she wanted a tighter fit.
His hand was warm as he grabbed mine and led me back to my dressing room.
“It’s been weird not having you at the office,” he said.
“Missing me?” I teased.
His intense eyes drilled into me as he pushed the door closed. “Yes.
And then he launched himself at me like he couldn’t hold himself back another second. I was jerked into his kiss, our mouths smashing together and cutting off my sound of surprise.
The way his mouth dominated mine ripped me open and poured fire inside. The desire for him flared white-hot, a fuse being lit on a stick of dynamite, ready to explode. He wasn’t soft or gentle. He was firm and rough as he claimed me, like I was his and could never, ever belong to anyone else.
A tremble started in my knees and graduated to my center when his demanding tongue pushed inside my mouth. He didn’t ask for permission or give me a chance to stop him. Royce overtook me. His hands slid up my front, and he cupped my breasts, crushing and massaging me through the dress.
He squeezed a throaty moan from me, and the satisfied sound clung in the air of the dressing room.
Where have you been? I wanted to ask but didn’t. I should just be happy he was back and that I hadn’t lost him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sandwiched between two mind-numbing kisses.
His mouth roamed down the column of my neck, and when he sucked on my pulse-point, it felt like it was directly between my legs. It made it impossible to think about what he could be sorry for. Surely it wasn’t for what he was doing this very second, because it was the only thing that felt right.
“Hmm?” That was the best I could manage to ask for clarification. My hands were inside his suit coat, my fingers stroking over his dress shirt and wanting to get at the hardened chest beneath. It was exciting how he seemed to be having as difficult of a time breathing as I was.
“I’ve been avoiding you.” He carved a path with his mouth down my neck, across the center of my throat, and back up the other side. “You told me everything, and I didn’t do the same, and it wasn’t fair. It didn’t feel right.”
I pulled back. “And it does now?”
The way he’d said it, you’d think he’d been waiting years.
Perhaps he had been. Maybe tomorrow I’d read in the finance section of the news that he’d tendered his offer to buy Ascension. The question was on the tip of my tongue, but then he was there, his mouth pressed to mine again, and all the words fell away.
He eased me back against the mirror in the dressing room, and I gasped as my bare skin pressed to the cold glass. It was immediately followed with a heavy moan because the rest of him pushed against me, all hot and urgent.
A female voice carried loudly through the closed door. “You’re not damaging all my hard work, are you, Mr. Hale?”
We both froze at Donna’s question. A wild, guilty smile splashed on Royce’s face, and—fuck—it was so sexy, it was indecent.
“No, ma’am.” He straightened away, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His gaze assessed every inch of me, and I could see him weighing his options. He could have me right here and now, if I was willing. Which—oh, yes—I was.
His money meant he could do whatever he wanted. Pay off the staff in the shop to leave us. Tear this dress off me and hire whoever Donna would need to make a replacement in time. Everyone in Cape Hill, and especially the Hales, viewed wealth as a superpower. It could do anything.
But fucking his fiancée in a tiny dressing room while his stepmother and her dress designer waited outside would certainly get back to Macalister, and the distance Royce put between us cooled our raging bodies enough to see reason.
He raked a hand through his hair and settled the mess I’d created, pulling himself back together. He took a final look at me, all wanton with my kiss-swollen lips and wrapped in his favorite color, and his eyes smoldered. They made a promise he was going to deliver on very soon.