The Initiation

by Nikki Sloane

I sighed, not sure what to believe.

  He took off and paced a few steps before coming to an abrupt stop. “Wait a minute. Why are you here?”

  Had the champagne gone to his head and killed all his brain cells? “What do you mean, why am I here?”

  “You know what’s going to happen, and you’re still . . .” He couldn’t seem to process it. His dubious gaze trapped mine. “You’re going through with it?”

  I fought a losing battle to sound tough and unaffected. “I don’t understand it, but unless you tell me there’s another way, I came prepared to do what”—I struggled to find the words—“needs to be done.” I gripped the elbow of my other arm in awkward posture that Alice would probably scold if she saw. “We both need this to get what we want, right?”

  His chest expanded with a deep breath, and his voice was quiet. “I was sure you were going to say no. That you’d walk away, and I’d never see you again. It’s why I wasn’t allowed to tell you until today.”

  “Because what girl in her right mind would agree to this?” I said bitterly.

  And then I was suddenly in his arms, his hot mouth fused to mine. He wasn’t holding anything back this time. His kiss was desperate and full of passion, and it stole all the air from my lungs.

  “I’ll make it fast,” he murmured as he peppered more kisses to me. “It won’t count. We’ll do it for real when it’s just you and me. The real us. That will be our first time.”

  I found it oddly comforting to think of it that way. I wasn’t losing my virginity while a bunch of other men watched—the fake version of myself would be.

  “I need to know why it’s like this,” I said.

  “I’ll tell you, but there’s something else.” He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to mine. Since I was fitted tight against him, I could feel how fast his heart was pumping. “Each board member is going to—”

  The sharp, jarring sound of knuckles banging on wood made us jolt. Someone was knocking on the door.

  Royce’s thumbs brushed over my cheeks, hurriedly wiping away smudged mascara. “It’s going to be okay, no matter what. I’m right here. Close your eyes, and it will be just us.”

  If his goal was to soothe me, it had the opposite effect. It sent my stomach plummeting to my toes. When the door behind us opened, Royce separated from me. The boy who’d been kissing me seconds ago faded into the hard, selfish persona like a reverse cocoon. He turned his cold focus to the men sweeping into the dark room.

  It was a parade of tuxedos and faces I recognized, but also ones who caused a cold sweat to break out and cling to my skin. They filed in without a word, moving like it had been practiced. Four men to the left, three men to the right.

  Macalister was the last to step through the doorway, and when he pulled closed the heavy door, the click of the lock reverberated through my body. There were nine sets of eyes looking at me, but Macalister’s glacial ones were the hardest to bear. My dress hid my shaking knees, but there was nothing to be done about my upper body. The dress was strapless, and he could see my trembling shoulders from where he stood.

  In his refined tuxedo, he could have been a gorgeous advertisement for expensive watches or high-end liquor. But the one that fit best in my mind right now was he looked like a spy movie villain. The mastermind billionaire who could be charming, or sexy, or cruel depending on the scene.

  His gaze worked over my dress, and satisfaction sizzled in his expression.

  “I wasn’t finished explaining it to her,” Royce said. Irritation had him jamming his hands in his pockets. Had he done it to stop himself from balling them into fists?

  Macalister’s attention slid momentarily to his son as he waved the comment off. “It’s fine. I’ll handle the rest.” He refocused on me. “Good evening, Marist. You look exquisite. Doesn’t she, gentlemen?”

  There were nods and sounds of approval from the pack. As their leader approached, my pulse skyrocketed and roared at breakneck speed. To anyone else, his smile would appear benign, but it only set me more on edge.

  I stood still as he sauntered a slow circle around me, inspecting my body like an expensive cut of meat.

  “You can stop this and leave at any time.” His tone was firm. “It’s important you know that. You can choose not to go further or change your mind at any point. No one is making you stay.” He finished his circuit, stopping in front of me. “The decision is yours. So, tell me—who is in control?”

  My throat threatened to close up, but I squeaked it out just in time. “I am.”

  He was pleased I gave the answer he was looking for. “Exactly.”

  His hand dipped into his tuxedo jacket, and a pen was extracted from his interior pocket. It was held out to me. I stared at it, unsure of what it meant. But it became clear when one of the board members placed a leather portfolio on the dining table.

  “It’s not a contract,” Macalister said. “It’s a release, simply stating you’re here of your own volition.”

  They wanted my consent in writing.

  When my gaze flicked to Royce, Macalister took a step closer, pulling my focus back to look at him. “We’ll all be signing it.”

  The black pen was trimmed in gold, and it glinted in the candlelight. When I took it, my fingers brushed his and gave me an unwelcomed sting of electricity. The room was charged with violent, sexual energy.

  The black portfolio had been set on the table beside the giftbox and our forgotten glasses of champagne, and when I moved toward it, Royce attempted to clear them away. I grabbed my glass from him and took a huge gulp, watching him put the rest on the side table.

  “Please, have a seat,” Mr. Lynch said. He’d been the one to carry the portfolio in, which made sense. He was the chief financial officer at HBHC and the man Macalister worked the closest with.

  I smoothed a hand down the back of my dress, lowered into the chair, and opened the portfolio.

  Paragraphs of text filled the top half of the page, followed by ten signature lines beneath. My name first, and the nine who would make up the board after we were done in this room.

  It was nearly impossible to read and comprehend the document as the men towered over me, waiting. I read through it halfway, set down my champagne flute, and tried again from the beginning. Whenever I found myself rushing, the promise I’d made to Alice echoed in my mind.

  Take as much time as you need. Don’t sign what you don’t understand.

  Macalister shifted his weight impatiently from one foot to the other. “Is there an issue?”

  He was wondering what was taking me so long. A contributing factor was how it was all there, spelled out. It said I’d willingly consent to the board witnessing Royce and I during sexual intercourse. That since I was on birth control and Royce had submitted to a physical proving he was free of any sexually transmitted diseases, there was no need for a condom to be used.

  And that I agreed to this while not under any kind of duress.

  It was true. No one was making me do this.

  But if I walked away, I’d give up everything. There’d be no college degree from Etonsons. No chance to save my family from social and financial ruin. And definitely no Royce Hale.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, and the necklace bobbed with it. “Can you explain this line?” I read aloud from the document. “Each board member will have an equal opportunity to evaluate the participant.”

  A cold hand slipped onto my bare shoulder. “You will be naked.”

  I shuddered. Perhaps I should have been grateful for Macalister’s grip because it kept me from bolting out of the chair, but his touch was unexpected. So different than his son’s.

  Like everything else about this day, I’d held out hope that what I suspected wouldn’t be true. I’d feared this but expected it, especially with the insisted grooming I’d had to endure at the salon.

  My voice was a ghost, too quiet to disturb the flames burning on the candles nearby. “Why?”

  The fingers clenched tighter. Not
enough to cause pain, just enough to remind me they were there. “So they may evaluate you visually.”

  “And other ways,” Royce commented.

  My blood turned to slush as Macalister tensed. The mood in the room was like the stock market had suddenly plummeted six hundred points.

  “What other ways?” I demanded.

  He gave his son a pointed look, irritated Royce had spoiled the fun. “Each member may use their hands and mouths.”

  Hands and . . . mouths?

  I went wooden, and the word came out drenched in horror. “What?”

  My gaze traveled the room, as much as it could with my shoulder pinned under Macalister’s hand. The men staring back at me watched my reaction with curiosity. I was resigned to my fate with Royce, but this? Letting the rest of the board touch me? Kiss me? Just the idea of Macalister’s mouth pressed to mine made panic crawl all over me.

  As he released me, his fingertips traced a line along my back. “I know you have questions, but I think everyone will feel more comfortable once you’ve signed. I can explain when that’s done.”

  “No,” I blurted out. “You can explain right now.”

  He didn’t like being told what to do, and certainly not by me. “If I don’t?”

  I closed the portfolio and went to stand, but this time, Macalister’s grip was more forceful. “This tradition goes back a century, and it’s one you already agreed to.”

  I turned under his hold so I could see Royce. He stood beside his father, wearing an unreadable expression.

  “You’re all right with this?” I was filled with disbelief.

  He was already okay with his dad and boss watching us together, so maybe additional stuff wasn’t that big of a deal to him. Or maybe he’d had his whole life to get used to the concept.

  Or perhaps this was a cost he was willing to pay to get the seat he wanted.

  Candlelight flickered over him as Royce glanced at his father, and—was that malice echoing through his expression? His gaze landed back on me, and he emptied of emotion. “I’d rather my father not be involved.”

  I let out a tight breath. Removing Macalister from this part might make it . . . bearable. I tried not to look fearful as I peered up at him. “I agree with Royce.”

  Everything from his expression to his words were absolute. “I am the chairman of this board. It’s my responsibility to protect its members, and therefore, my vote counts more than anyone else’s.”

  “All right.” I swallowed a breath. “Then make Royce your proxy.”

  My attention was locked onto Macalister, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Royce straighten with surprise.

  “No,” Macalister said simply, as if overruling me were that easy. “I’m not relinquishing my vote.”

  I saw everything in his eyes. As chairman, he felt this was his God-given right. I was owed to him. He was willing to pay five million dollars for my participation, and he wasn’t going to give up control. But had he forgotten what he’d told me?

  “I won’t sign this unless you do.”

  He leaned down and uttered it with condescension. “Then you’ll leave here with nothing.”

  “If I walk out of here, we both lose. You’ll have to tell your guests that Royce’s promotion has been postponed.”

  Macalister let go of me and stared down, evaluating to see if this were a bluff.

  It wasn’t.

  I’d put up with a lot, but this was my limit. Besides, the past month had shown me how important this was to him. He wouldn’t give up a hundred years of tradition and look like a fool, just because he’d been asked to step aside.

  He needed me as much as I needed his money.

  It was a gamble because it might piss him off, but I went in for the kill. “Who’s in control?”

  A range of emotions flitted across his expression. Disbelief. Anger. Frustration. But the last one was harder to place. Begrudging respect?

  He seethed as he said it. “You are.” He tacked the final word on, and I didn’t miss the danger that lurked in it. “Tonight.”

  I wanted to look at Royce and see his reaction but didn’t dare risk it. Macalister was deep in thought, considering his next move.

  Finally, he spoke. “If I do this, I’m not giving my vote to Royce for nothing.”

  It terrified me to ask. What did I have to offer that was of any value to him? “What do you want?”

  “You need to understand something. There are only two things in this world that are important to me. My family and my company.”

  I understood that perfectly, although I’d argue he had them in the wrong order.

  “It would reflect badly on all of us if Royce’s marriage were to fail.” He delivered the statement as merely an observation and not the implied threat it really was. “It’s best we figure that out before the vows, don’t you agree?”

  I wasn’t going to like where he was heading. “Of course.”

  “It will take at least a year to plan the wedding, and you’ll want to finish your degree beforehand.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll use that time to see how compatible you two are long-term.” The faintest of smiles curled on his lips. “We’ll make arrangements to have your things brought to the house. You’ll have your own room, of course.”

  The shocked word tumbled from my mouth. “What?”

  His tone was plain. “You’ll move in next week. It will give you more time with Royce and make you more accessible to Alice for the wedding planning. It’s a shorter commute to Etonsons.”

  “No.” It was a knee-jerk reaction.

  Macalister lifted an eyebrow. “When you’re married, you will live here. I don’t see the point in delaying it.”

  It was difficult to decide which idea scared me the most. Being trapped under the same roof as him, or that I couldn’t figure out his true agenda. Was he asking for this just because he knew I wouldn’t want it? Or was it another way for him to have control of Royce and me?

  “I’m not ready.” I needed to be home with my family to help with the finances, but moreover, I needed to have a place to escape the Hales. I couldn’t catch my breath, and the plea came out shallow. “Please, Macalister.”

  It was the first time I’d ever addressed him by his name, and I tightened, unsure how he’d react. His eyes widened and his lips parted to draw in a deep breath. He was off-kilter for a single moment, before his handsome face hardened. “I want to be clear. Royce will act on my behalf, but I will still oversee the initiation. In exchange, you will live here. That’s my offer.”

  Like last time I’d negotiated with him, neither of us seemed happy.

  “Do you agree?” he asked.

  Was I trading one brief encounter with him tonight, only to give him a lifetime of more?

  I clumsily uncapped the pen, and it took more than one attempt to rest the cap on the other side of it. Even though this wasn’t a contract, and I could walk away after signing, there was a terrible finality to putting the ink on the paper. It was a stain that couldn’t be washed away.

  I couldn’t stand not to look at Royce one more time.

  He’d retreated so far inside himself I barely recognized the man I’d discovered hidden inside. There was only a flicker of him now, lurking in his eyes.

  The flicker was just enough to make me scrawl my name on the line.

  “Good. Royce?” Macalister prompted.

  Royce took the pen from my hand and signed his name with a quick flourish. He dropped it with a thud and gently grasped my wrist, urging me to stand. He moved me out of the way so the other men could form a line, and each signed in their place on the document. As I stood there watching it, Royce’s warm hand remained curled around me. The connection between us was a closed circuit, and when he brushed his thumb softly over the inside of my wrist, electricity flowed freely between us.

  Macalister was the last to sign. When he finished, he closed the portfolio, picked up my glass of champagne, and offered it to me
. Yet, as his gaze etched over the necklace, seemingly mapping each diamond in the wreath, his expression darkened.

  Royce released me, severing our connection, leaving me to step forward and take the flute of champagne from his father.

  “Thank you,” I said automatically.

  “No, I believe it’s us that need to thank you,” Macalister said. He looked like he was going to say something else, but a distracted frown crossed his face. “Your necklace is very nice, but it’s too much. Tonight is supposed to be about Royce, not you.”

  From behind me, Royce’s irritated voice rang out. “It’s at least a little about her.”

  His father didn’t appreciate the tone and delivered a stern look to his son. “Take it off.”

  For a moment, no one moved. The Hale men were locked in a silent battle, but the fingertips at the clasp on the back of my neck announced Macalister had won this round. The weight of the necklace shifted, one end coming loose and skating down my front before being pulled away.

  I felt naked and exposed already, and it was the only thing to come off so far.

  Footsteps carried Royce away, leaving me alone to face his father and the group of men gathered around us in a half-circle while he put the necklace away in its box.

  “The Hale family,” Macalister announced, “came here from Germany at the turn of the nineteenth century, back when our country was almost as young as you are. We’d been watchmakers, but Eduard Hale had a head for finance. He worked for years at different banking firms before starting his own, which eventually grew into the Hale Banking and Holding Company of today. I am the eighth Hale to head up the board.” He pushed back one side of his black jacket and slipped a hand in his pocket, relaxing just enough to look less scary. “Royce, or Vance, will be the ninth.”

  I mentally tripped over the statement. It had always been a given to me that Royce would take control when his father retired, but then again . . . The brothers had received identical educations, and Macalister pushed both of his sons hard. He’d had no qualms pitting them against each other.

  It added another layer to Royce’s situation. Even after joining the board, would he still be competing for that top spot? All the way until his father stepped down?