by Nikki Sloane
The shift in Royce happened faster than a clap of thunder, and his desperate plea tore me in two. “Marist, don’t.”
The anger that radiated from Macalister was so hot, it invaded my senses with smoke. My mouth filled with ash. He glared back at his son. “If she doesn’t, I’ll strip you of your seat.”
Oh, God.
Two months ago, I’d stood in the rain in this hedge maze and told Royce I was going to destroy his life the way he’d done to me, and now I could execute that plan with terrible accuracy. He’d sold me out, and Macalister just presented me with the opportunity to do the same.
If I didn’t play his father’s ridiculous game, Royce would lose everything. The loss of his board seat had the same effect as castling in chess. It’d throw all the plans he’d spent his life building up to into chaos.
Pain twisted in my heart. I’d fought too hard and given up too much to get Royce that seat, but if I played the game and somehow lost . . . then we’d both lose.
The walls of the hedge maze closed in, their prickly branches tearing at my skin. The Minotaur was a much better fit for Macalister than Zeus. He wasn’t a god tonight—he was a monster pretending to be human.
Royce cemented back into his statue form, and his stricken face was haunting. He didn’t want to lose me, but he didn’t want to lose his position on the board either. It was clear all the same thoughts I’d had were running through his mind.
All, except for one.
I’m going to win.
I lifted my shoulders and puffed up my chest, trying to look as confident and intimidating as possible. It was laughable. I was thirty years younger than Macalister, a foot shorter, and wearing a summery gold dress with ballet flats. But I’d negotiated with him before, and I had to try now.
“I need a twenty second head start.”
He looked at me with the ruthless eyes of a Goliath CEO crushing a tiny competitor. “My offer is ten, and it’s final.”
There was no point in bluffing. He knew I wasn’t going to walk away. I took in a stilted breath as I repeated the deal. “All right. I escape the maze, and I’m free. You’ll stay out of my life and my relationship with Royce.”
“Yes, and you understand what happens if I win. I believe I explained it to you the last time we spoke on the phone.”
As he forced me to recall his filthy fantasy, trembles shook my knees, but hopefully they were hidden beneath my flouncy skirt.
I stared at him, unable to move, as he extended his hand. “Agreed?”
“Marist.” Royce’s twisted, tortured word shot straight to my core, and then he uttered the same phrase I’d pleaded the night he’d sold me. “Don’t do this.”
Couldn’t he see there wasn’t any other way? We’d both sacrificed too much to have him end up with nothing. I gazed at him, trying to convey it was going to be all right. I was going to save us both, I just needed him—for once—to trust me.
I set my focus back on Macalister and grasped his hand before I lost the nerve. His powerful shake was firm and aggressive, and I pulled my hand free before he wanted to let me go.
His head swung toward his son. “Leave us.”
Royce’s shoulders shook. He seemed to be vibrating with barely controlled rage and I had to avert my eyes, unable to bear the sight of it. Stones ground together as his feet brought him closer, and each measured footstep mirrored the slowing thump of my heartbeat.
When the sound stopped, I lifted my timid gaze to him.
If looks could kill, Macalister Hale would have been struck dead in the center of his hedge maze, killed by his own son like King Laius in the Oedipus myth. Royce’s fury was so powerful, it seared right through his father’s icy shell and cracked inside.
“A day is going to come,” Royce seethed, “when I’m going to make you regret this, and you should know . . . that day is coming very, very soon.”
Was that fear edging into Macalister’s eyes? He blinked, and it vanished. “I’m more powerful, experienced, and intelligent than you’ll ever be, Royce. Don’t be foolish and throw away everything I’ve given you over someone we both know you won’t care about by the time you walk down the aisle.” He pointed to the exit. “Leave without another word, or I’ll lose my patience and be forced to do something drastic. Something that would include our attorneys.”
It wasn’t clear if he meant HBHC’s attorneys or his personal ones, but the threat was too real to ignore. Royce cast a final glare at his father, then turned his eyes toward me. The fire of violence in them extinguished, leaving behind only the beautiful sapphire blue and all the unspoken words he wanted to say to me.
With his tongue shackled and the order from the king handed down, there was nothing else for him to do but leave. I watched my fiancé go, even after he disappeared behind the wall of evergreen and the sound of his despondent footsteps trailed off to nothing.
Every inch of my body was aware of the man who lurked at my back, waiting on me. When I turned to face him, I was shocked to find the pained expression he wore. Did he feel actual emotion?
Was he regretting his decision?
“Why are you doing this?” I asked.
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in a sign of frustration. “Because this thing between us is unhealthy.”
Well, there was an understatement. “Yeah, no shit.”
Down came his hand, and his eyes popped open, pinning me under his turbulent gaze. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I didn’t want to get involved. I only wanted to put distance between the two of you.”
I didn’t believe him for one second. There were too many times he’d looked at me with carnal thirst or outright desire. There was the day I’d interviewed with the board and stood up to him. The time we’d waltzed together after the initiation. And of course, the evening when he’d bought me.
“I feel infected,” he accused. “Thoughts of you take up time I don’t have to spare. And you cloud my judgement to the point it has become a serious issue. You’ve denied me, and more than once, which I believe is the root of the problem. Once we put it right, I can move forward.”
My pulse thundered through my body. He was a spoiled brat determined to get his way on an epic scale. I glared at him, dumbfounded. “You seriously believe if you get your ‘two minutes’ with me, you’ll—what? Get me out of your system?”
Had the man never watched episodic television or seen a movie? Because if he had, he’d know that preposterous idea didn’t work.
He grew angry, inching toward the edge of his control. “You’re a relentless distraction. I spend all day, every day thinking about the moment when I’ll see you next. Are you aware I was needed in Helsinki earlier this week for a face-to-face? I pushed the meeting to video conference so I could stay here, with you. Which is entirely unacceptable.” His gaze left mine, and he stared at the fountain as he searched for the right way to express himself. When he found it, disgust cascaded down his face. “This thing . . . this fucking obsession is beneath me.”
I gasped, banding an arm across my stomach. The evening had been one hit after another, and I wasn’t sure how many more I could take. I wanted to start the game now, because I was ready to bolt.
He calmed, his posture eased, and his head dipped down so his gaze could find the red tie clasped in his hand. “Win or lose, tonight will give me release.”
I shifted nervously on my shoes. I’d abandon them before the race started because I’d have better traction with my bare feet. “Then let’s get it over with.”
“I agree,” he said.
FOURTEEN
IT TOOK ALL OF MY STRENGTH TO STAND STILL as he approached. Macalister’s steely-eyed gaze weighed a million pounds, pressing down as he stretched the tie out between his hands and lifted it to drape over my eyes.
I sucked in a sharp breath when he leaned in. He smelled like pine and old money as he set about tying the makeshift blindfold, being careful not to catch my hair in its knot. The tie didn’t co
mpletely block my vision. If I opened my eyes, my eyelashes fluttering against the silk, I could see a sliver of light and make out my shoes on the path.
The heat of his body lingered even after his task was complete, and my blood pressure rose to the stars above in the sky. The blindfold, I’d expected, but I hadn’t anticipated how disorienting his presence would be.
“I’m going to catch you.” He whispered it beside my ear, and I jerked in response, not realizing he was still so close. His voice was pure sin. “Part of you is hoping I will.”
“No, I’m not.” I refused to accept any other concept.
I flinched at his touch when cold hands gently gripped my shoulders. They guided me to turn in place. One circle. Another. All of it was an unnecessary excuse to have his hands on me. We hadn’t moved from the center of the maze, so when the blindfold came off, it’d only take a single moment to know which way to go.
The hands released me. “Take off your dress.”
“What?” Panic dumped over me like a bucket of frigid water.
“You agreed I’m allowed to disorient you however I see fit. So, you will be naked when we do this.”
I shook my head furiously. “No.”
He was a viper slithering inside my head. “This is not difficult, nor is it something I haven’t already seen.”
I tucked my chin to my chest and furrowed my eyebrows. He believed this would slow me down and trip me up, but I wouldn’t let it. I was going to win, and nothing was going to stop me. I’d spent so long not caring what other people thought of me, I’d lost any shyness, and this included my body. If anything, tonight would be easier than the initiation because it would only be one man instead of nine, and I wouldn’t be able to see his reaction.
“Do you want me to do it?” He asked it with an eagerness that sent my pounding heart into overdrive.
“No,” I snapped. I reached down and grasped the hem of my skirt, lifting the stretchy fabric. Up I pulled, taking extra care around my face not to bump the blindfold off, until the dress was collected in my hands.
I’d worn the sexy pink lace bra and panties for Royce, but a tiny inkling deep inside me was flattered when Macalister drew in a sharp, affected sigh. There was power here. Perhaps he’d made an unwise move and my nakedness would be more disorienting to him than it was to me.
The dress was pulled from my grasp, and there was rustling. He must have folded it and then discarded it on the bench beneath the fountain.
“All of it, please.” His hushed voice was full of gravel and need.
Unwanted goosebumps prickled my skin.
When I twisted my hands behind my back to undo the bra, I surrendered to the situation. I would pretend it wasn’t real. I was in one of the myths I enjoyed, some nymph being chased by a man besotted with infatuation. I’d escape, and he’d be cursed to roam the maze for eternity in search of me.
It was a pleasant night, but the breeze caressed my body and my nipples hardened into points. Taking off the bra hadn’t been that much of a challenge, but my underwear was a different story. Which was stupid. The pale pink lace was thin and essentially see-through, and what he’d said was right.
Macalister Hale had already seen me naked. There were no new secrets to be—
His demanding voice cut through the air. “What is that?”
I froze. What was he asking about? A cold finger stabbed between my ribs, and my mouth rounded into a silent ‘oh.’ And then it curved into an evil smile. “It’s a tattoo.”
Although I couldn’t see his face, I didn’t need to. I could hear the contempt loud and clear in his voice. “When did you get this?”
The upside to stripping naked before him was I’d arrived at this perfect moment, and vindictive warmth spread through my limbs. I was proud to show off my statement of defiance. “It’s what I needed my car for.” My tone was overly bright and fake. “Do you like it? I hope so, because your money paid for it.”
I didn’t know what kind of reaction I expected from him, but it went deathly silent, and it was far scarier than I would have thought. It was quiet for so long I began to wonder if he’d abandoned me or rage had vaporized him into thin air. I reached out, pawing into the unknown.
“Uh, are you still there?”
“Finish your task.” His sharp order was the sting of a crop, and I jumped in response. “We’ll deal with your decision to deface your body at a later time.”
My expression soured as he sucked all the energy out of the moment, deflating my attempt to get under his skin the way the tattoo was inked in mine.
Hesitantly, I hooked my fingers under the waistband of my panties and slid them down my legs. I tried to be as careless and awkward about it as possible. This wasn’t a striptease or a seduction.
I stepped out of my shoes and dropped my underwear on them, leaving me wearing nothing but the engagement ring his son had given me.
There was a reason the Greek gods were usually depicted in the nude when most art from other cultures at the time clothed their subjects. The Greeks didn’t see nudity as shameful—it was the body’s natural state and the hero’s form. Perhaps it was fitting I was naked now.
I was going to be the hero of my story.
Once again, Macalister’s cool hands were on my arms, but rather than turn me, this time he guided me to walk. The smooth pebbles weren’t too painful as they dug into my bare feet and sensitive arches, but they were cold and foreign, and after several paces I could feel the grime collecting on my skin.
I tried to keep my bearing as we walked, but his hand was on my shoulder, and I knew he was staring at me, and once he began to make me turn in place, it was futile. He led me through switchbacks and reversed directions so many times, I was hopelessly lost.
In the myth, the hero Theseus is saved by Ariande, who gave him a golden ball of yarn for him to use to find his way out after defeating the Minotaur. But I didn’t need yarn to escape the Labyrinth. I told myself when the tie was undone, I would know where I was in a single look.
I can do this.
He pulled me to a stop, and his hand was gone. It gave me a moment to try to imagine what we looked like. The high walls of dense green leaves surrounded us. He was the Minotaur cloaked in a designer suit, and I was the shivering maiden, naked except for a strip of red silk covering her eyes.
Macalister’s voice dripped with seduction. “Would you like to earn five additional seconds?”
A warning tingled on the back of my neck. This advantage would cost me. I didn’t hide the wariness from my tone. “What would I have to do?”
“I’d like to kiss you.”
I jolted away from the sound of his voice and fought the need to run, the urge to shake my head and refuse. This was another attempt to disorient, only it was on a much larger scale.
But it was five seconds, and that was huge. It could be the difference between winning and losing, and wasn’t I supposed to win at all costs?
“Where?” I demanded.
The pad of one of his fingers brushed over my lips and his voice was hushed. “Here.” His rasping voice sounded like sex. “Give me five seconds, and I’ll give you yours.”
Beneath the blindfold, I closed my eyes.
I’d allow one terrible kiss to avoid another which would be far worse. Five treasonous seconds to prevent two minutes of the unthinkable.
“Fine.” I forced air into my lungs. “Do it.”
The rocks skittered as he stepped up to me. I stood like a woman about to be beheaded. Strong and tall and brave in the face of utter fear, with only my trembling bottom lip revealing the turmoil raging inside me.
Macalister’s touch was more delicate than I’d expected. I was expensive crystal, and he worried he might break me. His cool palm cradled the side of my face and slowly angled me up to receive his kiss.
My insides threatened to shake loose and abandon the rest of my body. I wanted to cower in fear and shame that I was going to let this happen. Every time I gave him an i
nch, Macalister took so much more, and I was vaguely aware I was on a slow slide to hell. A death by a thousand cuts.
Every shallow breath I took was faster than the previous as I waited for him—to the point my chest was heaving violently and I grew lightheaded. The anticipation was probably worse than the kiss would be. This was only more of his mind games, and I refused to let them have any effect.
But the first casualty of every battle is the plan, and as his lips touched mine, all my ideas of shutting him out died. When his soft, lush mouth moved against me, my eyes flew open and I could see him through the line of vision the blindfold didn’t block out.
I didn’t kiss him back, but it didn’t matter. He invaded. Like his scotch, he was an acquired taste and too expensive for my unrefined palate. His lips teased and taunted, challenging mine to give in to him.
Five seconds was a fucking lifetime. No, longer. Cities rose and fell in the time it took him to kiss me.
He had one hand cupping the back of my neck, but then the other hand slid around my bare hip and onto my back, and before I could retreat, the hard length of his body pushed against mine. My breasts collided with his strong chest and the line of buttons down his dress shirt.
He was cold-blooded and yet shockingly warm.
I gasped, and my hands flew to his shoulders to push him back, but I’d made a critical error. When I parted my lips, he took ownership of my mouth. The hand on the back of my head held me firm so he could deliver a kiss that commanded my lips to move in time with his.
His aggressive, dominating way was a dangerous rip current. It carried me along unwillingly and without escape. I despised how it forced a shiver up my spine.
It wasn’t clear if I’d succeeded in pushing him away or if he’d chosen to end the kiss on his own, but our bodies and mouths separated, and I stumbled back until the sharp edges of trimmed branches gouged into my skin.
“You said a kiss,” I accused. “I didn’t say you could touch me.”
“Most people use more than just their mouths when they kiss,” he said dryly. “I thought it was understood.”
I shook my head, trying to clear his effect from it. “And it was longer than five seconds.”
