The Deception

by Nikki Sloane

  Royce’s smile hung strangely, but I blinked, and it vanished. Or maybe I’d imagined it. Macalister looked at me curiously for a moment too, but then retreated into his normal, cold veneer.

  I meant it, though. Being alone on Thanksgiving had to be hard, and Royce had done everything he could to help my sister. For a man who pretended he didn’t care about anything, his actions sure said otherwise.

  My parents must have felt obligated since everyone else had participated, and both ended up saying they were thankful for being invited and that Royce and I had found each other. The strange thing was, my mother had sounded genuine.

  The words had barely left her lips before Alice pushed back from the table and excused herself.

  “I hope she’s feeling all right,” my mother said. “She looked pale.”

  Macalister’s tone had a note of finality to it that I doubt my mother picked up on. “She will be fine.”

  With Alice gone, it made the rest of the dinner tolerable—as long as I avoided Macalister. I felt his gaze boring into me, though, and I clenched my teeth. He was shameless, not bothering to be discreet. He was Zeus again, the king of the gods, and he was above reproach. He’d do whatever the fuck he wanted.

  People were still pushing pie crust crumbs around on their plates and talking politics when I excused myself to the washroom. After I’d finished washing my hands, I rested them on the sink and stared at my reflection in the mirror.

  My dark brown hair hung straight, halfway down to my elbows. I’d spent a long time blowing it out this morning, and even more time on my makeup the way Alice’s makeup artists had shown me. I looked picture perfect in my black dotted Yves Saint Laurent dress.

  But I barely recognized myself. There was a hard coldness creeping in at the edge of my eyes. The Hale influence, no doubt. The only good thing was the glow. I didn’t love the style that had been forced on me, but being in love? That suited me.

  I fluffed my dried hands through my hair, grabbed the doorknob, and pulled . . . only for Macalister to push his way inside and shut the door, closing us in together. His expression was all darkness and aggression.

  I lowered my voice to an angry whisper. “What the hell do you—”

  That was all I got out before one of his hands grabbed my waist and the other covered my mouth, pushing me roughly back against the wall.

  EIGHT

  I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose, and my gaze darted frantically around the small half-bath. I’d look anywhere but at the man who loomed over me. His palm was a muzzle of ice against my lips.

  “You won’t speak another word until I’m finished, Marist.” His tone was absolute, and so dangerous it felt like I was standing on a tightrope over sharpened spikes. “Do you understand me?”

  I gave a slow nod, making his hand on my face move along with my head. Either he didn’t trust me, or he liked the control, because he left his hand right where it was.

  “Tonight was unacceptable, but I’m not going to apologize for her. You will let her do that herself.”

  I tried to mumble a no, but when the word hit his palm, his fingers clamped down, preventing it from escaping, and heat flared in his frigid eyes.

  “You need to be sensible about this. Alice is a part of this family, one you cannot avoid forever, and I won’t stand another evening like the one we just had.”

  When I shifted my weight, trying to squirm away, he moved in and used the full breadth of his body to block me. Alarm stiffened through my muscles, but it seemed to soften his. His fingers loosened, and his palm slipped down until it gently ringed my throat. It meant he felt the enormously hard swallow I made.

  His voice went low. “She can’t move past this until you allow her to.”

  Vehemence coated each word. “I don’t care.”

  “But I do, and unfortunately for you, that’s all that matters.” His eyes traced his hand wrapped around my neck, and I had the sinking feeling he liked the way it looked. “Tomorrow, when Royce goes out with everyone else for the slopes, you’ll stay in and listen to Alice’s full confession and apology. I’ve made it part of her penance.”

  “No,” I hissed. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. You don’t have control over me anymore.”

  Amusement faintly lit his eyes. “Don’t I?” His index finger lifted and pressed over my lips. “Open your mouth.”

  What?

  I split in two at his order. My mind filled with fury, and my body with shameful heat. “Excuse me? No. We had a deal.”

  “You’re correct, we did.” He put extra emphasis on the past tense. “But it’s null and void now. I won’t say it again. Open your mouth.”

  In my confusion, I did—only to protest, but it didn’t matter. He used the opportunity to slide his long, cold finger past my lips, and my eyes went wide. My head was already back against the wall, and as I tried to turn away, the rest of his fingers pinched my face and held me still.

  It was shocking to have any part of him inside me, even in the relatively safe place of my mouth. It didn’t feel safe, though. His finger pulsed in and out in a deliberate stroke, and it was horribly sexual. Intimate.

  It was impossible to speak and not to think about the sex act he was mimicking.

  “You told me,” he said, “you wanted us to be done, but as I suspected, you lied.” His shoulders lifted in a deep breath. “If you really wanted that, you wouldn’t have allowed last night to happen. Or, by the very least, you’d have told Royce about it, but you didn’t, did you?”

  The question was rhetorical. He already knew from the guilt flooding my eyes what my answer was.

  Victory burned through his expression. “We’ll be waiting for you in my room tomorrow after breakfast.”

  He left off the threat, but it was implied. If I didn’t do as he said, there’d be consequences. At least one of them would involve him telling Royce how I’d let him watch us, and that he’d pleasured himself during.

  God, I was a stupid mortal. Maybe I deserved to be tricked by the gods for being such a fucking idiot.

  Macalister withdrew his wet finger and dragged it slowly down my chin. His gaze focused in on my lips like he was remembering all the times he’d forced his kiss on me and was considering doing it again now.

  “I’m not going to your room,” I blurted.

  His voice was quiet, yet it filled every goddamn inch of the stifling room. “The lounge, then. The time has long since passed for you to stop avoiding what needs to happen.”

  My heart ground to a painful stop. What, specifically, was he talking about? Alice’s apology, or the interest he claimed I still owed him from denying him his turn during the initiation?

  The striations in the color of his eyes were tiny, menacing teeth. “We’re so similar, after all. We know it’s best to deal with problems as soon as they present themselves.” He stepped back, giving me space to get out from beneath his shadow. “The closure will be good for all of us.”

  Anger gummed up my system, making everything slow and too disorganized to respond immediately. He gave me a final once-over, taking in the fire in my eyes and my hands pressed to the wallpaper at my back, and left the room wearing a satisfied look.

  Royce pushed his head through the neck of a gray long-sleeved thermal shirt and eyed me still nestled amongst the covers of our bed. It was early, and he was lit by the soft morning light, even though the sun hadn’t peeked out over the mountaintops yet.

  I hadn’t realized the full benefits of sleeping in the same bed with him until I’d done it. Morning sex. And now I got to watch him get dressed after his shower too, a sexy reverse striptease.

  “You sure you don’t want to come?” he asked. “I could teach you.”

  “I have zero interest in learning how to snowboard.”

  It wasn’t a lie. I wasn’t even a good skier and had given up years ago. The last five Thanksgiving holidays my family took in Aspen I’d spent it curled up b
y the fire in the lodge with my iPad, reading. Essentially, the perfect vacation.

  Finished getting ready, he glanced down at the screen of his phone, checked the time, and looked displeased, although I couldn’t tell if it was because he was late, or the current situation. He strolled to the bed and sat, jostling me into his arms.

  Concern edged into his voice. “I don’t want to leave you here alone with them.”

  Meaning his father and stepmother. I stared at the pattern on the duvet, not wanting to lie. “I doubt they’ll stay in, and it’s a big house.”

  While I had massive anxiety about my impending conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Hale, there was a kernel of truth to what Macalister had said. Alice wasn’t going anywhere. As stepmother of the groom, she’d be a major figure at my wedding. Like a terrible coworker I was forced to work with, I had no choice.

  I needed to confront her on what she’d done so we could both move on and get back to business selling the lie that the Hales were a perfectly happy family.

  Royce looked unconvinced. It came from him as more of a statement than a question. “You’ll call me if anything happens?”

  You didn’t the other night.

  “Sure,” I choked out.

  His kiss was long and sensual, and he lingered like he was having second thoughts about leaving. But in the end, Tate and the promise of fresh powder won out, and my fiancé went, blissfully unaware of the guilt knocking around in my chest.

  I wasn’t an avoider like the rest of my family, but I dragged my feet. I took my time in the shower trying to scrub away the unclean feeling that clung to my skin. I spent five minutes brushing my teeth, still unable to get the persistent taste of Macalister out of my mouth. It took forever to select dark gray washed jeans and a black cashmere sweater to wear.

  Breakfast was skipped, my stomach too unsettled.

  When there was nothing else left to do, I made my way toward the lounge.

  The room was at the top corner of the house, so instead of one glass wall, it had two, and another that was entirely made up of the stone fireplace, the requisite twelve-point buck head mounted above it. The roof was pitched and paneled in honey-colored wood slats, rising above the four brown leather chairs circled around a low table.

  Macalister was seated in one of them, wearing black trousers and a tan sweater over a white collared shirt. Perfectly business casual, which was as dressed-down as he got. His focus was on the phone in his hand, probably reading emails because, as CEO, he didn’t get holidays off.

  Alice wore an oversized maroon sweater, black leggings, and a vacant expression as she was perched in the chair beside her husband and stared at the nothingness before her. Her back was ramrod straight, and although she always had excellent posture, there was something eerie about how she carried herself. Her hands rested palms up in her lap, and she was so still, it was as if she’d been placed that way.

  Or directed.

  Tension corded in my body like a rope twisting. Her husband had ordered her to wait for me like that as her—what was the word he’d used? Penance.

  At my entrance, his attention rose from his phone screen, and I knew I had to act fast before he took control of the conversation.

  “I’m not here,” I said, “because you told me to come. I’m here because I want this done, and that’s it. The deal we made is still valid.”

  A slow smile burned across his full lips as he stood, pocketed his phone, and let his gaze wander down the length of my body. It was uncomfortably hot beneath his heavy eyes. “You entered into it in bad faith. You continue to argue you want nothing to do with me, when we know that’s not the case.”

  “It is!” I tensed my hands into fists at my sides. “I’m in love with Royce, and I’m marrying him, which means the only role you’ll have in my life is as my father-in-law. One I preferably never see.” I’d been off my game last night, but with time to prepare, I unleashed the pent-up things I’d meant to say then. “And if you touch me again, you’re likely to lose a hand. Or at least a fucking finger.”

  He laughed. A genuine, deep-throated laugh, and hearing a sound of such enjoyment from him literally blew me back a step. The ground beneath my feet became unstable.

  “All right, Marist.” His condescending tone was the same one I imagined he’d used when one of his sons had thrown a temper tantrum.

  “I’m serious,” I added.

  His amusement spent, Macalister turned back into the god I was more familiar with. Zeus’s expression was straightforward. “If you insist, we can renegotiate.”

  “What? No. There’s nothing to—”

  He raised a hand and silenced me. “I’ll continue to uphold our agreement, even when you choose not to.”

  I stared at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it didn’t, “In exchange for?”

  “You stay while I reprimand Alice and you listen to her full apology. You do not leave this room until it’s done.”

  Sirens wailed in my head. Too easy. “That’s it?”

  His pale eyes were glittering enigmas. “I imagine it will make you uncomfortable.”

  I swallowed an enormous breath. On the surface, this didn’t sound terrible, but I understood what I was up against. Negotiations were a game to Macalister, and he was always thinking two moves ahead. He didn’t play unless he was confident he was going to win.

  “No.” I set my hands on my hips, letting my body language reinforce my defiance. “I’m not renegotiating. You hold up your end of our deal, or I’ll tell everyone what she tried to do to me.”

  It was subtle, but Alice flinched, and it was the first movement she’d made since I’d come in. She’d been such a statue, I’d nearly forgotten she was there.

  Macalister hardened and gave me a lethal look. “That would be very unwise.” He glanced at his wife, giving her a nonverbal reassurance, and then set his oppressive attention back on me. “I don’t believe you’ve thought it through. It’s been more than a month since that night, so there’s no evidence to support your claim. It would be your word against ours, whereas we’ve never changed our story.”

  My pulse quickened as his words sank in, and he wasn’t finished either.

  “If you were to go down that foolish path, my legal team would spin you as greedy and desperate for attention, and that’s the story that will become the truth. You’ll be nothing but a tiny bump on my road to the Federal Reserve, Marist.” He put one foot in front of the other, and as he approached, he grew ten feet taller. “It wouldn’t stop there, though. I’ll take everything away. To use your analogy, if you try to touch my business, you’re likely to lose a hand. Or at least your fucking house.”

  It was so rare that Macalister swore, it gave his profanity the strength of a nuclear weapon. His bank owned my parents’ house and all the debt they’d accumulated over the years. We had no money to fight back if he came after us. Everything I had was his.

  Even my fiancé.

  Macalister’s words and his face full of domination squeezed me as a thousand ropes wrapped around my body and pulled taut.

  Perhaps I looked like I was about to be sick, because he issued a low sigh of frustration and turned slightly human. It was shocking, but it was as if he didn’t enjoy causing me discomfort. When I’d first moved into his house, he seemed to live for it. All those nights spent losing to him at chess . . . God, I couldn’t go back to that.

  Whatever terrible uncomfortable thing Macalister had planned, it wouldn’t last forever. I’d rather deal with it now than give up control. Nothing could be worse than that. But on principle, I couldn’t accept his first offer. I had to counter with something.

  “One round of chess,” I said. “If I win, I can leave whenever I want.”

  Oh, he liked this idea immensely, and I was counting on it. He was so sure of the outcome, he’d forgotten completely I’d won the last time we’d played. I wasn’t confident I could do it again, but it was better than nothin
g, and one of the only games I could play with him and ensure it was fair.

  Excitement etched his face. “If I win?”

  “Then, I accept the terms of your renegotiation.” I sipped in air, trying to remain calm. At least I was going in with my eyes open, prepared to lose. “But if we play, you agree not to tell Royce about any of this. Especially the other night.”

  “That moment was between us.” His smile was downright evil before he turned to look at the bookshelf beside the wet bar. “I believe there’s a set on the top shelf.”

  Meaning he expected me to fetch it.

  My feet moved as if the rug were made of thick mud, but I went to the bookcase and pulled down the wooden box with a checkerboard pattern on top, making the pieces rattle inside. When I turned to face him, he pointed to the circular table at the center of the chairs.

  There was an uneasy familiarity as we sat across from each other and set up the board, but things were markedly different, besides just the location. There was Alice seated between us, watching but not moving or speaking, like she’d fully become the robot I had sometimes wondered if she secretly was.

  Macalister picked up a black and a white pawn and put his hands behind his back. His shoulders shifted as he moved the pieces around between hands, and when he was convinced I didn’t know where the white pawn was, he nodded. “Choose.”

  I pointed to his right side.

  He brought his arm forward, turned his palm upward, and uncurled his fingers to produce the black pawn. There’d be no first move advantage for me today, and I took the piece from him, turning the board so the black side was mine.

  He made his opening move, followed by mine. As he considered his next one, he ran the pad of his thumb over his fingertips.

  My chess games with him weren’t just the pieces on the board, it was everything we did and said, and I wanted to distract. My gaze flicked the Alice. “Is she not allowed to talk? Or move?”