by Nikki Sloane
“I know what they look like,” I said. “The florist wants to use them in our wedding.” My stomach twisted horribly. They were the flowers Alice had picked out. A vision of her in her Hera mask sliced through my mind before my gaze flicked unavoidably to Macalister. “And Alice grows them in the garden closest to the house.”
My tone was full of accusation, but there was no reaction in his steely blue eyes.
The doctor focused on me. “They’re safe to handle but can be quite toxic if ingested. Anything made from its leaves will give you a high dose of convallatoxin, which is what caused your cardiac arrhythmia, but we’ve got that under control now. With the toxin identified, your doctors can get it flushed out of your system and you could be recovered as quickly as a few days.”
“Mr. Hale,” the pilot’s disembodied voice came through the cabin speaker, “we’ll be landing in ninety seconds.”
The doctor slipped his phone into his slacks and subtly tightened the belt across his lap as the helicopter began its quick descent. “Although death is extremely rare from lily of the valley poisoning, you’re a lucky woman, Marist.”
If I wasn’t so miserable, I might have laughed. I’d been poisoned by my future stepmother-in-law, and with Macalister’s relentless gaze on me, I felt anything but lucky.
I’d barely been settled into the enormous private suite before Macalister’s sharp order punched through the air, disrupting the quiet. “Clear the room.”
The nurse, who’d been writing her name on the dry-erase board, froze mid-scribble. “I’m sorry?”
It carried the same weight as if he’d told her to fuck off. “Out.”
She stiffened, capped her marker, and set it on the rest before hustling from the room.
He turned his sneering expression toward his son, who sat in the chair closest to my bedside. “That includes you, Royce.”
The sun had begun to rise outside, painfully reminding me we’d been up all night. I was as exhausted as Philippides after he’d run the fabled twenty-six miles from Marathon to Athens to declare victory. My fiancé likely felt the same, judging by his heavy, red-rimmed eyes. His bowtie was undone, as were the top buttons of his white dress shirt, and his hair was ruffled from hands he’d raked through it countless times.
It did nothing to diminish his attractiveness.
As he rose deliberately to his feet, his exhaustion faded, and Ares came out, preparing for battle. He clasped a hand on my bedrail, not for support, but to assume a defiant stance. It communicated he wasn’t going anywhere, and my gaze couldn’t help but trace his long fingers or the muscles twisting along his forearm and disappearing beneath his rolled-back sleeve.
Jesus. He should have been an artist instead of a banker, because he had such beautiful hands.
“If anyone’s leaving,” Royce’s tone hinted he was barely restraining his fury, “it’s you.”
Macalister lifted his chin like Royce had taken a swing at him and just missed landing the blow. His eyes were shrewd. “Marist and I need to discuss a personal matter.”
He spoke so professionally, but my heart thudded inside my body, searching for ways to escape. The personal matter had to be what I’d mistakenly said on the stairs. I despised how weak I sounded, but I was frayed to the point of breaking. “No. Royce stays, and we have nothing to discuss.”
How things had changed. When I’d first moved into the Hale house, Royce had been the enemy, and I had eagerly withheld information as he’d done to me. I’d cut him out and gone to Macalister alone. But nearly dying had given me a new perspective, and I knew who the real enemy was now.
I drew in a deep breath. “What I said when you found me—”
“I’m not interested in that at this time.” Macalister waved his hand, brushing my statement aside. “The more pressing issue is Alice.”
Words failed me, but the tendons in Royce’s arm flexed and his knuckles went pale as he squeezed the railing. “You’re fucking worried about her? After what she did?”
Macalister’s stone-cold gaze swept from me to his son. “To say I’m disappointed in her would be a grave understatement, but no, the only concern I hold for her is how her actions will reflect on the Hale name.”
Now it was Royce’s turn to be speechless.
In an instant, I understood with terrible clarity what Macalister desired. Status held the utmost value to him, and he’d do everything in his considerable power to stay scandal-free. My gaze dropped to the blanket stretched across my lap. “You can’t have a Hale go to prison.”
Royce’s tone was begrudging. “Like that would even happen.”
“No,” Macalister agreed, “I’m confident our lawyers would prevent that.” His focus shifted back to me. “But it cannot get that far. Do you understand how disastrous the optics would be? My wife arrested for poisoning my future daughter-in-law. The media would be all over us, in every facet of our lives. Imagine how low the stock will drop when the story comes out. We’d have to put everything on hold, and table the takeover attempt of Ascension we voted to make.”
Royce stiffened.
My body went cold as I asked the question I already knew the answer to. “What are you saying?”
“You agreed to protect both the Hale name and my company, Marist.” Macalister grasped the edges of his tuxedo jacket and straightened it to hang properly on his broad shoulders. “I’m aware it’s not an easy thing you’re required to do, but you will do it regardless, because you are a part of this family now.”
Not legally yet, but it didn’t matter. I was bound to them both financially and with my word.
“When the time comes,” he continued, “you’ll explain that you made a mistake. A misidentified plant with unfortunate side effects. You didn’t speak to Alice last night. She wasn’t involved in any way.”
All the breath left my body. “You want me to lie.”
His tone was absolute, a direct order from the king. “To save the reputation of our family, yes. You will.”
Well, I was a fucking Hale now, wasn’t I?
TWO
ANGER ROLLED OFF ROYCE IN THICK WAVES. “No. No way does Alice get off scot-fucking-free.”
“Of course not,” Macalister snapped. “I will handle it with an appropriate response, but it needs to be done with . . . discretion.”
“Discretion.” Royce repeated the word like it made him ill. “She tried to kill Marist.”
“Alice is many things, but she’s not stupid. I don’t believe that was her intent.”
“Oh, really?” Royce snarled. “What the fuck was she trying to do, then?”
The words dropped heavily from Macalister’s lips, and it was the closest to guilt I’d ever seen him come. “She wanted my attention.”
The air in the room went still. Truth was such a rare thing between the Hales, it stretched the moment taut to the point it was unbearable.
“I’m not that good of a liar,” I said.
My statement rankled him. “I have confidence in you.”
Macalister’s condescending tone gave me enough fire in my belly to burn through my exhaustion. “I’m supposed to tell people I’m stupid and made a dumb mistake—one bad enough to send me to the hospital. You expect me to sacrifice my reputation to save yours?”
Hostility skulked in his eyes. “The family’s reputation—”
“Please. We all know what this is really about.” I shifted uncomfortably on the bed, doing my best to sit up and not look weak. Had Alice realized the full extent of what she’d done? She’d handed me tremendous power over her husband, and I was about to wield it. “All that favor you’ve been building with Lambert won’t mean a thing if the truth comes out. You can kiss your seat on the Fed goodbye.”
Because no president would nominate someone attached to that kind of scandal. Macalister wouldn’t survive his confirmation hearing.
He looked at me now like he used to. I was insignificant, a speck of lint daring to mar his perfectly tailored suit. “You wi
ll do this for me, Marist.”
“Yes, I will,” I wasn’t sure if it was the drugs pumping in my system that made my heart race, or just the situation, “assuming we can reach an agreement.”
Surprise made Royce’s head snap my direction. I’d caught him off-guard, but he came up to speed instantly, and excitement flooded his eyes. He understood what I was about to do.
This was how I would escape Macalister’s obsession.
A few long strides brought the man to my bedside, which would now serve as our negotiating table, and ugly resignation smeared across his face. He didn’t want to bargain for anything and liked even less how much leverage I held over him, but he had no choice. There was no alternative.
“An agreement concerning what?” He sounded disinterested, but I saw through the pretense. He knew exactly what I was going to ask for . . .
And he dreaded it.
I licked my dry lips before pressing them together and set my hand on top of Royce’s. My diamond engagement ring gleamed in the early sunlight, and I blinked slowly before lifting my gaze back to my opponent. My voice was steady. “You’ll give me everything you promised me if I’d won that game and escaped the maze.”
Beneath my hand, Royce’s tensed a second time. Like me, he didn’t want to remember that night in the hedge maze where I’d gambled everything and lost. He’d told me his father didn’t play a game unless he was sure he was going to win, and I’d learned that lesson the hard way.
I should have known he was going to cheat. It was win at all costs, after all.
My eyebrows tugged together as I focused on the start of the game, where Macalister had laid out the rules. “You remember what you said?”
His expression turned sour. “Of course, I do.”
“Then repeat it, so the terms are clear.”
He let out a sigh of frustration, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked like a spoiled brat, perpetually unsatisfied, even when he had nearly everything he wanted. “I will allow you to make your own choices.”
I expected him to continue, but . . . he didn’t.
Anger swelled inside me. “That wasn’t all of it.”
“Your car will be returned to you.” He paused so long, I opened my mouth to protest further, and it pushed him to continue. “If you wish, you can live elsewhere until the wedding.”
It was clear he wasn’t going to say the most important part, so I did it for him. “And you’re done trying to come between me and Royce. No more threats of taking away his board seat, no more games—chess or otherwise. Everything between us is settled and done. It’s over.”
It’s over, and you lost, I wanted to say but didn’t.
The muscle running along his jaw flexed as he ground his teeth together, restraining whatever he really wanted to say. The control he held over himself was razor thin, and I didn’t want to see it snap. Last time it had, I’d wound up flattened against a bookcase in the library, and I didn’t want to think about what would have happened if Alice hadn’t caught him in the act.
His eyes were storm clouds looming over a turbulent ocean. “I believe I said I wouldn’t stand in the way.”
Even though my head ached, I shook it. “That’s not good enough. This has to stop, Macalister.”
His gaze darted to Royce. “You’ll give us a minute.”
Instinctively, I squeezed Royce’s hand to keep him from moving, but he was already on the same page as me. Defiance coated his words. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“He stays,” I added, backing him up. If Macalister was going to plead with me, he could do it in front of his son.
A distance grew, first in his cold eyes, and then in his physical retreat. Macalister’s posture was stiff yet challenging. Like he anticipated a fight he wasn’t all that confident he could win and needed space to make his charge. “If that’s what you want, then I will try. However, you gave me quite a different impression when I found you on the stairs.”
Heat seared across my cheeks as the blood rushed to my face. “I thought you were Royce.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, but it was too tactical to be called a smile. “Did you? We aren’t often mistaken for each other.”
It was true. Royce favored his father, but they weren’t spitting images. Macalister was taller and narrower, with darker hair and lighter eyes. Even the way they carried themselves was different. Macalister moved with calculated efficiency, whereas Royce had ease and swagger.
“I’d been drugged,” I said.
The question came from Royce in a tight voice. “What’s he talking about?”
Arrogance washed through his father’s expression. “I find it interesting that, as you lay there, believing you were dying, you chose not to say that. Time was of the essence, and you used it to tell me you loved me.”
I nearly came up off the bed, hissing it at him. “Because I was hallucinating, and I thought you were him.”
His lips widened into an evil grin. Macalister didn’t believe me. For as smart as he could be, deep down he was still human, and he’d twisted the situation until it fit the narrative he desperately desired.
And worse, I’d allowed him to play me. We were negotiating, and now I was on the defensive. My focus swiveled from my opponent to the boy who’d ceased moving. Did he believe me, or had he allowed his father to plant a seed of doubt in his mind? Even now, Macalister was trying to disrupt us.
“I’m in love with Royce,” I declared loudly so both men would hear. “My loyalty is to him. If you want me to lie to save both you and your wife, then you’ll agree to my terms.”
It took him forever to say anything. Finally, “If I were to—”
“Ascension,” I said abruptly.
Both men looked like I’d just driven over them with my Porsche.
Macalister’s suspicious gaze angled toward his son. “What about it?”
Was I leaving money on the table? For years, Royce had quietly accrued stock in the competing bank for what I assumed was a plan to take control. And once he’d taken over Ascension, he would use it to go after HBHC.
But Macalister had somehow learned of Royce’s plan and was making his own move to acquire the competitor. A defensive play to shut down everything Royce had spent years setting up.
“Agree that HBHC won’t buy it,” I said.
The shock on Royce’s face drained away and he went . . . blank. His expression was too guarded for me to be able to read anything in it. I didn’t understand at all. Was he worried if he showed an emotion, he’d give too much away to his father? I had the strange feeling he was unhappy about what I’d said, but it was likely he was overcompensating. Surely, he wanted this. It had been his goal.
Right?
Honestly, I didn’t know. He’d never let me in, never answered my questions. Even if he hadn’t danced around them and given me an answer, I wasn’t sure what to trust. For years, he’d spun lies, and the truth had only become murkier as I fell under his spell.
Macalister was far easier to understand. His jaw set and his eyes narrowed. My demand had truly offended him. “That is not up for negotiation. Let me make one thing crystal clear, Marist. I will not have business decisions dictated to me by you, or anyone else. Is that understood?”
“The board already voted in favor of it, Marist.” Royce’s voice was odd and distant.
“Overwhelmingly, I might add.” Macalister lifted his chin, exaggerating the way he looked down on me. “Royce was the only dissenting vote.”
I squeezed my fiancé’s hand, wishing I could understand. Did he want me to try to fight for this, or was he subtly telling me it was already too late? I stared into his blue eyes, desperate for answers, but found none.
From across the room, a soft knock rang out on the suite door.
“We’re out of time,” Macalister said quickly. “I agree to your initial terms. Do we have a deal?”
I sucked in a breath and swallowed it. “Yes.”
We
didn’t shake hands. He simply stood across the room and gave half of a nod, confirming the deal was closed. He didn’t seem thrilled, but the pleased look that crossed his face made my stomach bottom out. I was tired and vulnerable, and in my weakened state, I’d made a mistake.
I should have bargained for more.
The door swung open, but it wasn’t medical staff that came in—it was my parents. With all that had changed between us, it was shocking how it all was inconsequential now. My heart ached at the sight of them, and I bit down on my bottom lip to stop its trembling.
“Oh, Marist,” my mom gasped as she flew toward me, her arms outstretched. Royce stepped back to make space, and I welcomed her hug greedily. She was soft, and warm, and my mom. As hard as it was to accept how fixated she was on money and status, I knew deep down she loved me more. My father, my sister, and I were more important than anything else.
My father stood beside her, his hand on her shoulder and concern on his face while she continued to squeeze me tightly.
“What happened?” She smoothed a hand over the back of my head in comforting, repeating strokes.
It was unfair that the first time I’d have to tell the lie, it would be to the people I most didn’t want to.
“Uh . . .” I started.
And then suddenly Royce was there, doing what he’d been spent his lifetime perfecting . . .
He lied.
He explained how one of the staff members had turned me on to a homemade tea with leaves grown in the herb garden. Only last night, I’d misidentified the plant—easy to do, he added. They grew right beside each other. The lie rolled out of him with such ease, I nearly believed him.
My parents bought it completely.
“How awful. Thank God you’re all right.” My mother had grabbed my hand and refused to let go. “I’m sorry we weren’t here sooner. I still had my phone on silent from the gala, and your father’s was charging downstairs.” She used her other hand to latch onto Royce’s arm. “Thank you for sending your brother to get us.”
