The Deception (Filthy Rich Americans Book 3)

by Nikki Sloane

  A lifetime passed.

  Finally, he lifted his head and rolled his shoulders back like a decision had been made, and every muscle in my body went rigid.

  TWENTY

  EVERYONE WAITED WITH BATED BREATH for Mr. Geffen’s vote. It was as if the boardroom were covered in mousetraps, and the tiniest move would set them off in a cascading flood of snapping jaws.

  “It’s Macalister’s lack of remorse,” he said, “I find the most troubling about this whole disaster.” When Macalister looked ready to protest, Mr. Geffen lifted a hand to cut him off. “Our stock is down fourteen percent, which is a disaster if I’ve ever heard of one, and I’m sure the shareholders agree.” His gaze zeroed in on the chairman. “In hindsight, I don’t believe you’d do anything differently. You made an egregious mistake. Worse, you won’t admit to it, or any failure, and that has me questioning your judgment. I’ve been in the business a long time. Not every decision I make is the right one, but I know there’s a lesson in failure. I don’t think you’re willing to learn it.”

  I sensed what was coming before the words were out of his mouth, and my pulse fluttered. My heart soared in my chest.

  Mr. Geffen turned his attention to the rest of the board. “I hold Macalister personally responsible for this, and removing him is the best way to appease the angry shareholders we all have to answer to.”

  Oh, my God.

  I put my hands flat on the table to prevent myself from flying out of my chair. Three votes for, three votes against, and I would be the tiebreaker. Everyone realized it at the same instant.

  “That’s it, huh?” Mr. Lynch was pissed. “It all comes down to the whim of some twenty-two-year-old girl, who’d probably rather be out shopping than here, doing her husband’s bidding.”

  “You’ve no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” Royce snapped.

  “Don’t be fooled.” Macalister said it begrudgingly. “Marist is young, but she might be one of the smartest people at this table.”

  Did he think flattery would save him? Or was he thinking about how he’d been so confident he was going to win, he’d told me his plan and given away everything?

  Mr. Lynch gave his boss a skeptical look. “Well, hopefully, she’s smart enough to make the right decision, then.”

  Macalister’s pale blue eyes were filled with alarm he tried to disguise. Was he coming to terms with what he’d thought was impossible? He sat in his chair looking tense, and I imagined he could feel his control over HBHC weakening as it began to slip from his grip.

  “Marist.” He said it the same way he’d command me to be reasonable. “You don’t want to do this.”

  My tone patronized. “I don’t?”

  “Abstain your vote. You shouldn’t have to choose between family.”

  My laugh was devoid of warmth. Like that was even an issue, and he didn’t care about that. It was a nice try, but I was aware if I didn’t decide, a tie would be ruled in the chairman’s favor.

  Cracks of anxiety began to bleed out of him. He gripped the armrests of his chair and sat at the edge of it. “Or you could be brave and make the difficult, right decision—and choose me.”

  I sucked in a breath. There it was, what Macalister had truly wanted from me since the night of the initiation when I’d made Royce his father’s proxy. I’d picked his son over him, and Macalister had never recovered.

  His chest began to heave. Inside him, chaos brewed and ate away at his self-control. His eyes were wild and unfocused, and his expression desperate. He looked so incredibly mortal as his world began to fall apart. “Pick me, Nyx.”

  Confusion splashed on the rest of the board’s faces, but I wasn’t deterred. Medusa wasn’t just taking him down, she would destroy the perverse tradition that had drawn her into this world. Did he understand that? I’d thought Ascension was the Trojan Horse, but had it been me all along?

  “I’m not Nyx,” I spoke with a tone of absolution, in a way he would best understand, “but you were right to be afraid of me.” My gaze turned back to my husband. I wanted to watch Ares’ face when we claimed victory. “I vote no-confidence.”

  All the air went out of the boardroom, making it a vacuum, and for the second time this morning, I turned the men into stone. They became a garden of statues gathered in a semicircle around the table.

  I stared into Royce’s eyes. In the window behind him, the city of Boston loomed like it was resting on his shoulders. Was he ready for the weight of it? I thought so. He’d spent so much of his life preparing, plus he had me as his partner, and I was eager to rule alongside him.

  It was obvious to me he felt a mixture of emotions, but he kept them contained. Hardly anything leaked out. There was only the hint of a smile twitching on his sexy lips before he spoke. “The board has voted to remove you from your seat. Vice-chair David Burrows will be our acting chairman and CEO until a new one can be elected.”

  The single word from Macalister fell like a frozen sledgehammer. “No.”

  Royce paused. “No?”

  It was like no one else was in the room. Macalister’s gaze trapped me, and his voice went as black as his suit. “I don’t accept this. You’ll change your vote.”

  Tension worked along my back, and nerves fluttered in my stomach. I flashed back to the night I’d beaten him at chess and how his malice-filled stare had stabbed into me. It was exactly the same now. He wasn’t willing to accept losing any better than the last time.

  “It’s over,” I said. “Checkmate.”

  “No.” The volume of his voice rose right along with him out of his chair. “I do not accept this, Marist. I brought you into my home, into my family, and you will not take away everything I’ve built . . . and give it to him.”

  Violence whispered the hairs along the back of my neck and drew me from my seat. And when I stood, so did the rest of the men, although not out of polite courtesy—they felt the same threat I did. There was a pulse thrumming in the room, and it quickened when everyone was on their feet.

  Macalister had brought me into his family. He’d taught me how to strategize with chess, and how to ruthlessly win at all costs. Did he not think I’d learn how to lie and deceive like the Hales could?

  It wasn’t wise, but I said it anyway. “I told you you’d regret this.”

  Macalister went wooden, his muscles taut beneath his suit. Something cracked inside his chest, and the panic of it filled his expression. It was frightening how his eyes darkened to black ice. No longer a god, he became a monster, and the Minotaur burst forth.

  The horror of it locked me in place. It was why I couldn’t run when he seized the rolling office chair by its armrests, lifted it high into the air, and then hurled it at the wall with all the force left in his body.

  Board members gasped as the chair flew like a missile. I stumbled backward, putting my hands up to cover my mouth and the startled sound I made.

  The chair crashed to the floor with a thunderous boom and tumbled noisily into the table of beverages and pastries that had been set out for the meeting. The impact knocked over the stainless-steel coffee server, and its lid came off, dumping a tidal wave of steaming coffee across the carpet.

  When Macalister charged at me, everyone felt the danger— most of all my husband.

  The fastest way for Royce to get to me was over the long conference table, and I blinked in shock as he took it. He scrambled as a blur across the glossy surface, his dress shoes squeaking against the veneer and his face full of determination. It announced there was nothing in the world that was going to stop him from getting to me.

  His feet hit the floor, and a split second later I was spun around in his arms, his body a protective wall between me and his father. I was shaking with adrenaline, but Royce was warm and solid, and I clung to him with relief.

  “Marist,” Macalister roared as he struggled against the arms holding him back. Several of the men had stepped up to restrain him, and it looked like no easy task. “I love you,” he cried. Betrayal
etched his face. “How can you do this to me?”

  When the day was over, which part would the board find the most shocking? That Macalister was out as CEO, that he’d lost control and hurled a chair across the room . . . or how he’d admitted he was in love with his daughter-in-law?

  Royce squeezed me tight as he turned his head and lobbed his words over his shoulder toward his father. “If you’re looking for someone to blame, why don’t you try your-fucking-self? You had every opportunity to stop this, and you didn’t, and I’m not just talking about this vote.” His expression was pure contempt. “If you hadn’t tried to take her away from me, we wouldn’t have had to take everything away from you. I warned you this day was coming.”

  He had, the night in the hedge maze when he’d offered fifty million dollars to buy me back from his father and Macalister had refused.

  “My biggest regret,” Royce continued, “is that it didn’t come sooner.”

  Macalister seemed to claw back a shred of control and quit struggling against the hands holding him back. He sneered at the men. “Release me.”

  They hesitantly did, but everyone stayed on alert, not trusting his calm demeanor would last. He grabbed the sides of his suit coat and straightened it, regaining some of his composure mere seconds before two men in gray suits poured into the room. The crash of the chair had drawn security, and they surveyed the tense scene quickly.

  “This meeting is over,” Mr. Burrows announced. “Please escort Mr. Hale to his office upstairs. He needs some time to cool off before we can discuss the next steps.”

  Rather than fight or look defeated, Macalister appeared how he always did. To the two security guards, he was composed and reserved. Only the hurried movement of his chest and the pulse pounding in his neck hinted that something was amiss.

  None of the board moved as he strode to the doorway and disappeared through it, the two gray suits trailing behind like imperial guards.

  “Jesus,” Mr. Vanderburgh breathed. “What the fuck was that?”

  Royce’s tone was pointed. “Still happy with your vote?”

  Mr. Burrows was all business and focused on Royce. “I’ll get Carolyn to work up a draft of the press release.”

  “Tell her to move fast,” Royce said. “He wasn’t exactly quiet, and it won’t be long before the entire building knows what happened. Hopefully, we can get it out to the other branches before word hits Twitter.”

  The damage was done; now it was a race to control it from affecting the stock price further. I stood awkwardly beside Royce as the men began listing problems and offering solutions. The agenda for the day had been blown to hell. A meeting with the mergers and acquisitions team would be pushed an hour, and as soon as the announcement was made that Macalister was out, Mr. Geffen would start the media blitz.

  My part was done, and I wasn’t needed here any longer, but when I tried to inch away, Royce’s hand wrapped around my wrist and stopped me. “Guys, I need ten minutes. We can get someone in here to clean up the mess and all take a few moments to regroup.”

  He didn’t wait for them to respond, but most looked relieved at his suggestion.

  “Where are we going?” I asked softly as Royce pulled me out into the hall.

  He kept my wrist clasped in his hand, gently guiding me toward the end of the hallway. “I need some air.”

  The curious eyes of the employees were fixed on us as we went, making me feel horribly on display. It wasn’t until we stepped into the elevator that I was able to catch my breath. I’d expected we would head down to the street, but Royce punched in his passcode and pressed the button for the top floor.

  As soon as the doors shut, the full gravity of what had happened hit me. “You did it,” I whispered.

  He gave me a look like I was crazy. “No, Marist. You did.” His hand slipped down until he could thread his fingers with mine. “How the hell did you get Liam Shaunessy to give you his vote? I couldn’t convince him to break from my dad.”

  I swallowed hard. “My offer was ten million dollars . . . and that I wouldn’t tell your father he was having an affair with Alice. I think it was the second part that convinced him.”

  “What?”

  “Sophia told me.”

  Royce closed his eyes and shook his head. “First Vance, and then Liam. She sure knows how to pick the guys to get under my dad’s skin.”

  The elevator came to a stop, and the doors peeled open to reveal a hallway similar to the one we’d just been in downstairs. I didn’t get a good look because Royce slapped the close door button, sealing us back in together. The mood in the elevator shifted and thickened, aided when Royce’s arms wrapped around me.

  I set my forehead against the side of his neck and laid my cheek against the lapel of his coat. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you my plan, or that I was coming in with him today. You can read through his lies, but I think the same is true for him.”

  And I’d needed his hubris to keep him talking in the car this morning. If he’d told me he’d swayed one of the votes we were counting on, I’d have told Royce to cancel the meeting and delay until we had the numbers.

  Or a new plan.

  But my deception had worked, and Royce had dethroned his father.

  My husband’s chest lifted, and he stroked a hand over my hair. “You did what you had to, and it was nothing compared to what I put you through.”

  I closed my eyes, grateful to have both him and everything we wanted.

  The elevator didn’t move. We were trapped together in the glass box atop Mount Olympus, and even though we could see ships moving in the harbor and people on the sidewalks, it felt like we were all alone. I wanted the moment to last longer than it did, but Royce made a strange sound. His chest shuddered.

  Oh, my God. Was he . . . crying?

  I lifted my head, only to find an enormous grin on his face. He wasn’t crying, he was laughing, with relief or simple emotional overwhelm, I couldn’t tell.

  “I can’t believe he fucking threw a chair.”

  His laughter was kind of contagious. A much-needed release. “And you climbed over the table.”

  The arms around me tightened, and as he finally got his laughter under control, his eyes filled with love. “Because the thought of losing you scared the shit out of me.”

  The elevator doors slid open with a mechanical grind, interrupting what likely would have been a kiss. Instead, he took my hand again and pulled me out into the hall.

  I’d never been on the top floor before. It was only the C-level executives and their assistants’ offices, plus a private kitchen and meeting spaces. Royce knew exactly where we were going. Our first stop was the kitchen, where every day a chef prepared a full lunch for the executives. I rested a hand on the prep table while Royce pulled two bottles of Evian out of the fridge. He made a joke about needing something stronger, but it was nine in the morning.

  We’d celebrate later.

  Bottles in hand, we went farther down the hall. “My dad’s office is there,” he said, gesturing to the door at the end. The shades were down over the glass, making it impossible to see inside. What was Macalister doing in there right now? Sitting at his desk while the guards stood nearby? Was he already plotting how he was going to get control back?

  Before we reached Macalister’s office, Royce turned to the left and pushed open a heavy paned glass door. I blinked against the bright sunlight as I followed him outside. It was a garden balcony cut into the building with potted trees and surrounded by living walls of greenery. Like the house in Aspen, the railing was glass so it didn’t obstruct the view.

  The harbor and the city stretched out at our feet.

  “This is beautiful,” I said.

  “It was Alice’s idea. She thought my dad would like a space close by that didn’t feel like he was trapped in the office.”

  I understood. Running a multibillion-dollar international company was not an easy job. We rarely saw Macalister, and when we did, he was usually on the phone.
My gaze drifted from the morning traffic down below to the balcony door that connected straight to Macalister’s office.

  “What happens now?”

  He followed my gaze. “With my dad?” Royce unscrewed the cap of his water and took a sip. “He’ll keep his office and stay on as president. It’s a figurehead position—no real power. An advisory role, if he accepts it.”

  Because Macalister was still a Hale and an integral part of the company.

  “What about you?” I asked.

  “I expect Allen will be CEO for the next few years, and I’ll be the chief operating officer.” He was talking about Mr. Burrows. “When I’m ready, I’ll step in.” When surprise flooded my eyes, he gave me an easy smile. “I’ve spent my whole life preparing for this, but I think everyone would be more comfortable if I had a little more experience. I’m twenty-six, and patient. I know my time will come.”

  A pang of relief warmed my chest. Being COO of HBHC was still a demanding job, but not as bad as the role at the very top, and this meant he might not spend every waking minute in the office for the next few years. It’d give us more time together.

  Below us, rush hour was winding down, and as the streets grew quiet, the sun overhead became more intense. I took a long drink of my water and set my gaze on him.

  “How does it feel?” I asked softly. “All your planning is over.”

  He set a hand on the glass railing, looked out over the city, and hesitated. “It feels . . . different than I expected. I dunno. Maybe it hasn’t sunk in yet.”

  I heard exactly what he wasn’t saying. As much as he disliked his father, he still cared about him and there wasn’t joy in destroying him. “You know your dad’s going to be okay,” I said. Macalister wasn’t the type to sit around and lick his wounds. “He can focus on the Federal Reserve now.”

  Royce turned toward me, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back against the railing. “True.”

  The door to the hallway swung open, and we tensed as the tall blonde strode toward us, her Jimmy Choos beating out a swift, urgent tempo. Her expression was stricken.