by Nikki Sloane
“We were shooting our engagement photos when you called,” Royce said.
“Oh.” She lifted her chin. “I see. And how are the wedding plans going?” Her posture was stiff and awkward, and she forced pleasantness into her voice. “I haven’t been told much. Being the mother of the bride, I thought I’d be more involved.”
A thousand thoughts raced through my head. I had barely been involved, and I was the bride. I hadn’t even picked out what I was wearing right now. Everything was selected by Alice and approved by Macalister, and I was sure when the time came, it would be the same of my wedding dress. I wanted to remind my mother again that our family wasn’t paying a cent toward the wedding, and that meant we’d relinquished the right toward any decision.
The two Hales at the top had made it known that Northcott input would not be needed. My wedding had nothing to do with me. It was a merger, and the reception afterward was a promotional opportunity.
My loudest thought was the one that spilled out of my mouth. “Really? You want to whine about this now?”
She took in a marked breath, like a bee she hadn’t bothered unexpectedly stung her anyway. “I’m not whining, but I think it’s ridiculous I haven’t been asked to be a part of the most important day of my daughter’s life.”
Frustration balled my hands into fists, but before I could snap back at her—
“I agree,” Royce said. “I’ll speak to Alice about it.” An easy, disarming smile breezed across his lips. “She doesn’t mean to do it, but she has a habit of taking over.”
My mother’s demeanor changed faster than the direction of the wind. Her eyes brightened. “Thank you, Royce. I’d appreciate it.”
And just like that, he’d won over his future mother-in-law.
“Northcott?” a voice called from down the hall.
We were ushered into Emily’s room, where my sister looked tired and small, but other than the IV hooked into her arm, she appeared fine. I hurried to her bedside and crushed her in my arms.
“I’m okay,” she said. “Everything’s all right.” She released me and gave me a once-over, then shifted her gaze to take in the rest of the room. “They said everything looked okay on the ultrasound, but the doctor hasn’t come by yet.” She turned her weary focus toward the man at my side, and the warmth faded from her. “Hello, Royce.”
“Hey,” he said. “Glad to hear you’re okay. Your sister was worried.”
“Enough to drag you here, I guess.”
“Oh, no,” I tried to explain. “We were—”
He waved a hand, cutting me off. “I decided to tag along.”
A fast set of knocks rang out on the door behind the curtain before it slid open and a woman in blue scrubs and a white doctor’s coat strolled in. She ignored everyone else in the room and focused only on Emily.
“I’m Doctor Spenser, head of obstetrics. I’ve looked over your tests, and I can say things look good with the baby. He or she appears to be doing just fine. Now, the placenta is lower in your uterus than typical. It’s a condition called placenta previa, and it’s the most likely cause of your bleeding.” She softened her voice. “Unfortunately, you’re probably going to have more during the pregnancy. As long as it doesn’t get too heavy or painful, it’s nothing to worry about. It does mean you’re looking at a C-section when we get to the finish line.”
She slipped her hand in her pocket, pulled out a small tablet and stylus, and continued talking as she wrote orders on the screen.
“Your iron is low, and you’re dehydrated, plus your blood pressure is high, so I want to get you in a room upstairs and keep an eye on you. Let’s see if we can get your numbers looking better tomorrow.”
In my peripheral vision, I saw Royce pull out his phone, and his thumbs fluttered over the screen. Was he already texting for the driver to come fetch us? Because he could go without me. I wasn’t going to leave while my sister was being admitted to the hospital.
Once again, I was irritated that my car, the one I was completely capable of driving, was off-limits. Next time I was at the Hale house, the first thing I’d ask Macalister about was getting my keys back. I’d done everything he asked all summer. Now it was winding down, and soon school would start, and I was desperate to regain any independence I could.
After the doctor finished answering Emily’s questions and left, Royce’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen and looked pleased. “Excuse me for a minute.” He swiped to answer the call and strode toward the door. “Hey, Nigel, thanks for calling. You got something for me?”
The rest of his one-sided conversation was drowned out by the sliding door and then muffled beyond the glass, but suspicion brewed inside me. Macalister’s personal assistant’s name was Nigel. Why would Royce be talking to him?
I needed to find out, and standing around wasn’t going to make that happen.
“I’ll be right back,” I said to my family.
Royce had his back turned as he faced the empty hallway, his phone pressed to an ear and his other hand on his hip. I cracked the sliding door as quietly as possible so I could make out what he was saying.
“Good. How soon can we get him on a helicopter?” Royce paused, listening to the other side. “Great. Call me back if there’re any problems.” Like he was abruptly aware, he turned and looked directly at me. A slow smile spread on his face. “Oh, and Nigel? Thanks. We appreciate your help.”
He tapped the screen and slipped his phone in the interior pocket of his suit coat. His eyes were playful.
“Were you spying on me?” he teased. He gestured across the way to the unused room, and our faint reflection in the dark glass.
Oh, my God, I was an idiot. I stepped out of the room and closed the door behind me. “Who are you putting on a helicopter?”
“Dr. Zetsche from Johns Hopkins.” He said it like that would clear everything up. When it didn’t, he added, “I asked Nigel to get me five names of the best obstetrics doctors in America, and Zetsche happened to be the closest. We’ll meet him when he lands at Mass General.”
My brain couldn’t keep up. “What?”
“We’ll have Emily transferred to the Phillips House. It’s the top floor of Mass General, and it’s, uh . . .”—his expression faltered as he searched for the right phrase—“been a while since I’ve been there, but it has some of the nicest suites in the country.”
I grasped my elbow with my other hand, using the awkward posture as a defense mechanism, like it could shield against the pang of hurt I felt for him. He had to be talking about his mother, and the last time he’d been there was when she’d passed away. Like the anniversary of her death, he didn’t elaborate or share his feelings with me.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered.
His expression was a mixture of sadness and determination. “Your sister deserves better care than Port Cove, don’t you think?”
I didn’t flinch or shrug him off as he cautiously set a hand on my hip. I liked the connection.
The corner of his mouth quirked up into a half smile. “Think of it this way. One of the perks of marrying me is you get the best of everything.”
“No,” I said. “What I don’t understand is why you’re doing this. Why you came with me, why you stayed.” I gestured to the empty hallway. “There’s no one here, no cameras to document this. You won’t get credit for caring about my family.”
He solidified, hardening into stone. “You’re right. Honestly, I don’t care about your family.” His hold on me was firm, locking me into place. “But, as much as I’ve tried not to, I care about you. I know you don’t believe me, and I haven’t given you a reason to, but you’re mine, Marist. My fiancée, and my partner, and . . .” He turned his head to the side, staring down the long hallway as he assembled the words in his mind. When he had them, his focus snapped back to me. “Where you go, I go. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”
The distant sounds of the emergency room faded to nothing, so all I could hear was the furious
beating of my heart. Royce’s expression was pure conviction. Maybe it was a lie, but I chose to believe what he’d just said was the truth.
“Then tell me what you’re planning,” I whispered.
His lips parted.
But nothing came out, like he was hanging on the cusp of revealing his master plan. Confliction ran visibly through him, and he retreated at the last second. “I can’t, not yet. But I promise you, when it’s in motion? I will.” His advance had been so subtle, I hadn’t realized I was completely in his arms. He tipped his head, so his lips brushed against my hairline, and his voice matched my whisper. “I’ll tell you fucking everything.”
I sighed, closed my eyes, and didn’t fight him as his arms squeezed me into his embrace. Right now, I didn’t care about Macalister’s stupid rule that I’d agreed to. I greedily accepted Royce’s affection, whether it was real or manipulation.
For a long moment we stood in silence, hugging in the quiet hospital corridor. I didn’t want to admit to myself how good it felt to lean on him, both physically and emotionally, and it was hard to say because the words had a bitter taste. “We’re beyond broke, Royce. I don’t know how my family can afford—”
“Shh.” He lowered his mouth to mine. “We’re in this together, remember?”
It was after midnight when the town car brought Royce and me home from Boston. My sister had been transferred to the top floor of Massachusetts General Hospital, into a spacious suite with a full sitting area, 1200-thread count sheets, and beautiful bay views.
The car pulled to a stop in the circle drive, and we sat motionless as the driver shut off the engine, climbed out of his seat, and rounded the back of the car to open my door. The silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy.
Filled with all I wanted to say but couldn’t seem to get out.
There’d been a party at the marina tonight, and we were supposed to have made an appearance. Instead, Royce had spent it with my family. He was understandably uncomfortable with his memories of the hospital, but he hid it well. During the walk to the elevator this afternoon, we’d passed the Julia Hale Memorial fountain, and he’d turned his head the opposite direction.
When the driver opened my car door, I stayed put. I had to say something. Royce had done so much today.
“Hey. Thank you,” was all I got out.
It was woefully inadequate, but his smile was bright, shining better than the overhead light in the back seat. “I’m glad I could help.”
We climbed the steps to the front door, and as we went inside, I was struck with the realization that I’d referred to the Hale house as ‘home’ when talking to my family this evening. It didn’t feel like home, but then again . . . after the years of lies my parents had told me, the house I’d grown up in felt less like home every day.
If home wasn’t a place, but the people you surrounded yourself with, I was losing where I belonged.
“Good night,” Royce said when we’d both reached the doors to our bedrooms.
I gave him my first genuine smile in weeks. “Good night.”
He disappeared through his doorway, and a second later Lucifer’s lecturing meows rang out. The cat seemed to run on a schedule and grew irritated whenever Royce deviated from it.
There was a lamp shining in the sitting area of my room, which I assumed someone from the staff had put on when Royce had told them we wouldn’t be back until late in the evening. I set my purse down on the dresser and kicked off my shoes, so tired I considered climbing under the covers with the Dior dress still on, but then thought better of it.
Movement off to the side caught my attention, and by the time I turned to look at him, the man was already on his feet.
“Fuck,” I gasped. My face flushed hot, and I instantly hung my shoulders in embarrassment. “Macalister. You scared me.”
His expression was cold and indifferent, but icy fire burned in his eyes, threatening to incinerate me. “You’re late.”
Late? Was he serious? I gave a skeptical look. “For our game of chess?”
Most nights when we played, he’d come from the office and was still wearing his standard two-piece suit, but when Royce and I had backed out of the marina event, he must have gone in our place. He’d worn a three-piece but shed the jacket at some point before entering my room, leaving him in a smoke gray pinstripe vest and matching pants. The silver bar on his black tie glinted as he took a step in my direction.
The air dropped ten degrees with that action.
He stood and stared at me in such a demanding way that my pulse raced. It felt like I’d done something horribly wrong and he expected me to apologize.
“My sister’s in the hospital.”
Irritation simmered in him. “I am aware of that. It was my helicopter that brought in her doctor.”
He didn’t charge at me. He put one steady foot in front of the other in a slow march, an enemy advancing to invade.
“Oh. Thank you.” I couldn’t stop myself from backpedaling; it was the dresser that handled that. The drawers rattled as I bumped into it, and the sound stole his focus. Macalister was curious, like he didn’t understand why I was backing away from him.
We’d spent the last few weeks building a rapport, but it didn’t exist here in my room. This was supposed to be the safe space where I retreated after losing to him each night. But even this was an illusion. This room wasn’t mine—everything was his. Including me, he’d argue.
His presence was unrelenting.
“It’s late,” he said. “And you’ve kept me waiting.”
Was there extra meaning buried in his statement? I didn’t want to find out. I ripped my gaze away and padded on bare feet to the door. “Okay, I’m ready. Thank you for waiting.”
He followed me out of the room, and by the time he’d entered the library, I was already in my seat, my legs tucked up under the skirt of my dress and my white pawn positioned in my opening move.
Every other time we’d played, it’d still been light outside and it streamed in through the large arched window. It was a moonless sky tonight, making the library dark and intimate. The light from the single desk lamp wasn’t powerful enough to reach the edges of the room, and the sharp edges of Macalister’s cheekbones were carved with extra shadows.
He sat opposite me and considered his opening.
I didn’t let out the tight breath I was holding as he placed his pawn exactly where I’d hoped he would. I leaned forward eagerly on my knees and slid another pawn forward two places.
When he was caught off-balance and his guard was down, he was a beautiful man. He looked wise and distinguished, practiced and skilled with age. But his eyes were deceptively young and treacherous.
They widened as he stared at the board, then narrowed to slits when he realized what I’d done.
He picked up his queen, set her beside my pawn, and the air whooshed from my lungs like a hole burst in a balloon.
Checkmate.
I’d lost in two moves.
Anger ringed his eyes. “We’ll play again.”
I was so drained it was a struggle to push myself out of my chair. “It’s been a long day.”
“No.” His tone was pure authority as he reset the board. “Fool’s Mate is not acceptable.”
“I held up my end of the—”
His fist banged on the desktop, rattling the chess pieces. “Sit. Down.”
My stomach turned over as I dropped back into my chair. I blindly snatched up a pawn and moved it forward, desperate to appease him. I understood what this really was. He craved control in everything, but he couldn’t control me from losing.
Right now, he couldn’t even control his own emotions.
Macalister closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and let out a calming sigh. “Forgive my tone. As you said, it’s been a long day, and I’ve been looking forward to our game all evening.”
My breath caught with his admission.
His eyes opened and captured me. “I
enjoy the time we spend together.” He picked up a pawn and moved it, and I felt his fingers wrapped around me, squeezing tight. “I hope it’s the same for you.”
What the fuck was I supposed to say to that?
“Mm-hmm.” I peered at the board, acting like I was too deep in thought to really process what he’d said. I took my turn and sat back in my seat, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.
His tone was casual and conversational. “How is Emily? And the baby?”
“They’re okay, but the doctor wants to keep her a few days.”
We moved our pieces in turn as he volleyed more questions at me. “What about the father? Is he in the picture?”
I grimaced. The asshole hadn’t spoken to Emily since she’d told him she was pregnant with his child. “No.”
“And who is he?” Macalister captured my rook and deposited it off the board.
I swallowed thickly. “I think she’d prefer I didn’t say.”
Was that a smile hidden in his eyes? “No, that’s probably wise. It’s a bit of a scandal, after all. I’m told her professor’s married.”
My mouth fell open, but I promptly shut it. “Of course, you already knew.”
It was a smile. He looked so fucking pleased with himself. “Yes. Royce was supposed to marry your sister. I had to know who was responsible for disrupting those plans.” He relaxed in his seat, watching me as I positioned myself to defend my queen. “He’s a terrible man.”
I paused. “Because he cheated on his wife?”
“Because he made the wrong decision at every turn. He chose to sleep with a student, to get her pregnant, and to abandon her and their child.”
“You’re right.” It was strange to agree with Macalister on anything. “He is a terrible man. I wish I could say it’s surprising, but Emily’s always had terrible taste in men.”
The second it was out, I wanted to take it back. I hadn’t meant to be mean or talk behind my sister’s back, but the day was bleeding into the next, and I was stretched thin. I went to move my knight—
“No, that piece is pinned.”
