by Nikki Sloane
Wait, what? Was she on drugs?
Sophia must have assumed I was okay with it when I hadn’t moved. She cast an arm around my shoulder and held up her phone at the same high position Alice had done earlier. I bet if I had measured the angle, it would have matched perfectly.
“Smile!” she said in a sing-song voice.
My cheeks were already worn out and I was only an hour into the party, but I did the best I could. She snapped a few pictures, examined the results on her screen, and looked satisfied.
“Want me to send them to you?” she asked.
My filter temporarily shorted out from overuse. “What for?” When Sophia’s face twisted, I went into damage control. I plastered on a bright smile. “Just tag me in them and I’ll repost.”
She liked that idea a lot. “Oh, perfect!”
“I have to run. I think Royce is waiting on me.”
She nodded like she was an understanding friend, and I began to wonder if she was delusional or suffered revisionist history from our time in high school. “Of course,” she said. “Tell him I said hi.”
“Right,” I ground out through my toothy grin.
There was a velvet rope drawn across the entrance and a sign hanging from it that announced no guests were permitted in the hedge maze, but no one stopped me when I slipped behind it and disappeared between the walls of dense evergreen.
Pebbles crunched underfoot as I wound deeper into the maze, and I was sure the underside of the train of my dress was going to look awful, but I kept going. The sun was low in the evening sky and the high walls of the hedges cast shadows, but the landscape lighting was already on. Warm, diffused light glowed along the narrow corridors and illuminated the statues standing guard at the dead ends.
The buzz from the party dimmed, and I let out a tight breath. It was lovely being here alone in the maze. A few fireflies floated in the air, their yellow flash so quick it was over by the time I focused in on it.
I didn’t remember the correct route to the center, but I also may have forgotten it on purpose. It was fun to wander and guess, and more times than not, I’d found myself facing a stone cast Aphrodite or reproduction of the Venus de Milo.
Just when I started to worry about the man waiting for me, I turned a corner and the hedges parted. They bowed into a circle, and the tiered, bubbling fountain lay in the center. Glass votive candles flickered along the wide rim of its pool, which doubled as a bench.
The space was gorgeous and romantic.
Royce was a vision as he sat there beneath the fountain in his tuxedo, his elbows resting on his knees and his head hung. It stole my breath.
“The man of the hour,” I said softly.
He lifted his head and his intense, hungry eyes focused in on me. As he rose deliberately to his feet, his expression was ravenous, and excitement surged inside my chest. We were alone, and there was magic all around us. It hummed in every drop of water that rained down in the fountain. It sang in each flame burning in the ring of candles surrounding it.
And it lived in every shallow breath Royce and I took together.
“Come here.” He spoke quietly, as not to break the spell. “I want to ask you something.”
There was rustling as my dress train dragged over the pebbled path. I was nearly to him when his hand slipped into his pocket. This time, the black box he held was much smaller and the world slowed to a stop.
EIGHTEEN
ROYCE WAS NERVOUS as he propped open the box and knelt by the edge of my skirt.
“Oh, my God,” I cried. My hand flew to the center of my chest, perhaps to stop my heart from getting ahead of the rest of me.
I hadn’t expected anything like this. There’d been no stipulation laid out for Royce to get down on one knee and propose. I’d half expected Alice to present me with a ring this afternoon, let me know when the engagement was going to be official, and when I was supposed to slip it on.
Mostly, I hadn’t expected to feel this way. As if this proposal were real.
Like we were real.
As fucked up as today had been, the initiation had accomplished at least one of its goals—I felt bound to Royce. We’d survived and gotten each other through it.
The ring was beautiful. The center was a huge, cushion-cut solitaire, bordered all around by smaller diamonds, and a fading beam of sunlight made it glitter wildly against the black velvet box. The Costolli logo was imprinted on the inside of the lid, and I pictured Mr. Costolli sweet-talking Royce into buying the engagement ring when he’d come in for the necklace.
“I know,” Royce started, “this looks like I’m asking you to marry me, and I am.” His heart seemed to be racing as fast as mine was, given how quickly his chest moved.
Didn’t he know I was going to say yes?
His eyes were as clear as the diamond he was presenting to me. “I’m not stupid, Marist. We both came into this arrangement with goals that have nothing to do with each other, or love, but I’m an ambitious man. Eventually,” his words had gravity, pulling me under, “I will want it all.”
The only thing moving in this world were the glowing fireflies around us, sparks and flashes of brilliance in the summer night.
“This ring is yours no matter what. You can take it and the necklace and the check for five million and run. I’ll understand if that’s the choice you need to make.” He took a deep breath. “Or you can stay, and every day you wear this ring I’ll know you’re still with me.”
“Royce,” I breathed, reaching for him.
But he drew back, and his expression shuttered. “Wait. You need to understand what you’re agreeing to. I’m playing the long game here, Marist. Today was probably only the beginning.”
That gave me pause. “What?”
“My father’s like me—he’s a different person behind closed doors. He’ll use us against each other. He’ll do it if it helps him get what he wants, or even if he just thinks it’ll be fun.” He drew the ring from its perch in the box and held it up. “So, I’m asking you to marry me. But also to trust me, and when it’s all over, to give us a chance to have . . . more.”
He was Hades, wanting to take me to the underworld and be his bride, and this ring was the pomegranate seed that would make me stay. I chose to go with the version of the myth where Persephone took it willingly.
“Yes,” I murmured.
Both our hands were trembling as he slipped the ring onto my finger, and then he was on his feet, his arms wrapped around me, and his mouth covered mine. The kiss had barely begun before the disembodied voice of the announcer asked people to find their seats. Dinner would be served shortly.
Royce laced our fingers together and led us back to the start of the maze, knowing exactly which turn to take, and I wondered if he could run the whole thing in his sleep. We tried to sneak out without anyone noticing, but Alice once again was waiting to ambush us. Only this time, it was with her phone. She snapped pictures of us and my new ring, promising to post our “fairy tale engagement” as soon as Macalister’s toast was over.
I sat at the head table with the rest of the Hales, sandwiched between Royce and Vance. My hand was in my lap, hidden beneath the tablecloth, and I fidgeted nervously with the ring as Macalister walked toward the microphone stand.
“Before I forget,” Royce said, his expression alight with amusement, “I hope I haven’t set a dangerous precedent. No more black boxes. That ring is the last piece of jewelry you’re getting from me for a while.”
I faked horror. “What? No earrings?”
Royce smirked. “Mr. Costolli tried.”
When it was clear Macalister was ready, a hush descended on the lawn.
His toast was brief. He talked about Royce’s tenacious work ethic and how proud he was as a father. He acknowledged the rest of the board for welcoming his son and said great things were in store at HBHC. It was a speech that hit all the right notes but lacked any real emotion. It left me just as cold as every conversation I’d had with Macalister.
I’d decided to take Alice’s advice and not think about my time in the dining room. Those memories would stay there until I was ready to deal with them.
“Lastly, it gives me great pleasure,” Macalister said, “to announce we have something additional to celebrate this evening.” His smile was flawless. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he looked genuinely happy. “Royce asked Marist Northcott to be his wife just a few minutes ago . . . and she’s accepted.”
The stunned silence only lasted a single second, but it felt like it dragged on forever. Then, the gasps and smattering of applause rang out, followed by every head turning to look at us. The expressions in the sea of faces ranged from confused to suspicious. All of Cape Hill put me under a microscope and began looking for flaws.
It was my nightmare come to life.
But Royce had his arm around the back of my chair, and when the crowd swung their judgmental scrutiny our way, his hand was on my shoulder. He leaned into me, nuzzling a kiss in the side of my neck and whispered in my ear, “Pretend you like me.”
It worked because his ridiculous statement made my tired smile muscles fire and a shy grin slid across my face. Liking him wasn’t something I had to pretend to do.
After dinner was over, the dancefloor opened up, and Royce and I took center stage, swaying to the music and playing our roles as newly engaged lovebirds. It wasn’t that difficult. Was I getting better at pretending, or was it not much of a lie?
Later, when Royce was occupied with a business discussion, I slipped out in search of Emily. Once I texted her, I discovered she was all the way over at the Hale stables with her friends. I followed the path past the hedge maze and to the narrow private road that led down the hill, and the small barn with the center pitched roof came into view.
It hadn’t been a working stable in years. After Royce’s mother died, the horses were sold, and the barn became a storage space. The collection of people in formal dresses and tuxedos were gathered nearby at a patio table under a tree, having their own mini-party away from the critical eyes of their parents.
As I walked up, there were cheers and smiles from the group. Most of them seemed to be drunk or high, or both.
“Emily, when’d your sister get so hot?” one of the guys asked in a too-loud whisper. A few of the girls snickered at him.
My sister was the only sober one among the group. She was stunning in her violet dress and the mermaid style hugged her curves, but her expression was like it had been earlier. Pained. I nodded my head to the side, gesturing I wanted to get away from the group and talk privately.
When we were on the far side of the house and out of earshot, she grabbed my left hand and jerked it up to stare at the ring. Her voice was filled with dread. “You did it.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, my God.” Her face cracked. It split between anguish and fear. “Are you okay? Was it awful?”
“I’m fine,” I said quietly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Jesus, Marist.” Her eyes filled with tears and her gaze ran from me. “It’s all my fault.”
“What are you talking about?”
Her focus snapped back to mine. “It was supposed to be me.”
I bit down on my bottom lip to prevent it from trembling. “Stop it. You can’t—”
“I got pregnant on purpose.” She said it in such a rush it was a blur of words, and by the time her admission soaked in, she’d begun to cry. “I didn’t want anything to do with the Hales. You know how Macalister is. He thinks he’s entitled to whatever he wants, and that includes people. He owns everything, but he wasn’t going to own me.”
I took in a sharp, painful breath. I’d given Macalister so much power over me, he’d become my master.
She wiped at a tear. “Royce told me at the end of our date that it didn’t matter what either of us wanted. Macalister wasn’t going to give up unless I married someone else or got pregnant by the time I graduated.” A wrinkle creased her forehead. “I thought it was my only way out. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you’d have to take my place.”
When more tears welled up in her eyes, I went on autopilot. My sister was hurting, and I needed to comfort her.
“It’s okay,” I soothed. She shook as I hugged her. Or maybe I was the one shaking.
Not with anger, but with fear. Her words rang terribly true. I’d negotiated myself away from Macalister tonight, denying him what he clearly thought was his right. Was he eventually going to want to claim it anyway?
“It’s going to be all right,” I said, trying to convince us both.
When the worst of her tears seemed to subside, she pulled back and gave me a firm look. “Promise me.”
How could I? I opened my mouth, but she cut me off.
“Just be careful. I don’t trust any of them. This town is full of liars, and I think the Hales might be the worst of all. And the Marist I know would hate this life you’re signing up for.”
My phone chimed with a text. I ignored all the social media notifications on my screen and went to my messages. It was Royce, wondering where I was. I put on the bravest face I could muster. “I’ll be careful.”
She looked resigned. “Good. You might be marrying into that family,” her tone was grim, “but please don’t become one of them.”
The conversation with Emily churned in my head as I made my way back toward the party. I took off my torturous shoes and clutched them by the heels in one hand, and since I was walking barefoot, I took the longer, grassy route to head back.
Beyond the backside of the maze, the grass stopped and gave way to the woods. The sun had just set, and under the cover of the trees, it was dark. But a stick snapped underfoot and alerted me that something was moving in there.
No, not something. Someone.
A pleasured sigh—distinctly male—echoed amongst the trees.
“What’s got you so worked up?” I could hear the smile in his rich, vaguely familiar voice. “Thinking about Marist?”
At the sound of my name, I went stock still. I couldn’t see much of him, only a sliver of his outline between two tree trunks, which meant it was unlikely he could see me.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” He gave a short laugh, and there was rustling as he moved. “Please don’t stop.”
I moved as stealthily as possible, careful not to trip over the roots as I ducked behind one of the bigger oak trees.
“I’m just saying, usually you want to go straight to fucking.” He let out a staggered breath. “Fuck, yes. Suck it.”
“Hmm,” a woman purred. Her voice was too low to distinguish. “Like this?”
“Yeah, just like that.”
I put a hand on the rough, furrowed bark and peered around the side of the tree. My eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness, but I saw outlines. Wicked shapes hidden among the trees. He was slumped back against one, and she was kneeling, her bulbous dress around her as she bobbed at him.
When his arms moved, she slowed. “What are you doing?”
Her voice was much clearer and terribly familiar.
“I want video of you taking me deep,” he said.
She hesitated but didn’t object. When her figure resumed moving, he unleashed a long moan. The phone in his hand lit up, shining down its overly bright light, and Alice blinked rapidly up against it. I could see the shaft of the thick dick in her mouth, wet with her saliva.
She slid all the way until her petal pink lips were flush around his base.
And because he was videoing, the lit screen cast enough light upward so I could make out his handsome face.
Holy shit.
I backed away, stumbling over the uneven ground, and almost dropped the shoes in my hand, but thankfully my hasty retreat had been silent.
“I’m going to put it on Instagram and show them how talented you are,” Vance teased in a seductive voice.
I hurried away before they saw me, trying to wipe the image from my mind. Did Royce know? Did Macalister?
There was pride in Noemi’s voice. “The press didn’t find out we’d gotten married for weeks.”
Royce laughed. “Yeah, that wouldn’t fly in my family. Alice says the only way to control what the press says is to feed it to them.” He glanced at me and did a double-take. Whatever expression I was making caused concern. “Hey. Everything okay?”
My heart was still thumping rapidly in my chest. “Yeah.” I tried to act natural, and not like I’d just seen his brother’s dick halfway down his stepmother’s throat. “My dress is heavy, and the hill was steep.”
Worry lined his eyes. He saw right through me, but hopefully he also saw it wasn’t the right time to talk about it.
“Congratulations,” Noemi said, derailing us.
“Thank you,” we answered at the same time.
“I love the pictures Alice posted.”
“Pictures?” I asked.
Noemi showed me her phone, scrolling through the feed, and Royce and I leaned in to get a better look. There were three pictures on the post. The first was us trying to sneak out of the hedge maze right after his proposal, where Royce and I were holding hands and my gaze was locked onto him.
Anxiety crawled up my back.
Maybe Alice had gotten lucky and captured the photo at the perfect second, but I doubted it. It was nearly impossible not to think the girl pictured there was in love with the man she was gazing at.
Was that how I usually looked at him?
The second picture was the engagement ring.
My anxiety shifted, leaning toward excitement when she swiped to the final photo. It was right after his father’s announcement. Royce’s hand cupped the spot where my neck met my body, his gaze was on me, and I was grinning. He’d whispered for me to pretend I liked him just a second before it had been taken.
In this picture it looked very much like he was in love with me.
Noemi glanced up from her phone and straightened abruptly. “Mr. Hale, it’s nice to see you again. Thank you for inviting us.”
