by Nikki Sloane
“I don’t know the details,” he said, “but I’m hoping you don’t give up on him just because he screwed up.”
“He didn’t screw up.” Shame made my voice small. “I did.”
When my gaze returned to him, he gave me a look that said he didn’t believe me. “Well, this conversation never happened, and I definitely didn’t show you what his little temper tantrum did to his room, okay? Because if the roles were reversed, I’d be pissed.”
I understood what he meant, and I appreciated him showing me. I faked confusion. “What conversation?”
He gave a tight smile, straightened from the wall, and closed Royce’s door before moving across the hall toward his own. “I’ll see you later.”
“Hey, Vance?” He was halfway into his room and turned to look at me. “Your shirt’s on inside out.”
He paused and his focus dropped down to the navy t-shirt he wore, the serged seams facing outward. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered.
When he disappeared into his room, I did the same. I shut the door, rested my forehead against it, and closed my eyes. I’d become a cold furnace, the pilot light blown out and no way to restart on my own.
I could blame Macalister all I wanted to, but in my heart, I knew the truth. I’d caused the destruction in the room next door. Royce was trapped by his father just as much as I was, if not more, because at least I could walk away if I wanted to give up. I could scurry back to my family. We’d be broke and desperate, but we’d still have each other.
There was no running from Macalister when your last name was Hale.
And now I’d betrayed and hurt Royce worse than he’d done to me.
It wasn’t the angry red scrapes across my bicep that made me fall to my knees in the center of my room. The sight of blood didn’t faze me right now. No, it was the open black box I’d placed on my dresser earlier and the custom piece of jewelry he’d likely had commissioned just for me.
I didn’t need to wear the mask to become Medusa. I already felt like a monster.
It wasn’t clear if Royce had come home last night. Maybe he’d stayed with Tate, or else he’d slept in one of the guest bedrooms, but at seven the next morning, I heard staff inside his room, working to clean up the mess.
I’d left my door unlocked and stayed awake most of the night, foolishly hoping he’d come to me. I didn’t care if it was to yell at me or ask for his engagement ring back. It didn’t matter. I just wanted to see him again.
He didn’t answer the single text I’d sent him. I’d typed a hundred different things and deleted them all before sending, unable to find something remotely adequate to express how I felt.
Me: I’m sorry.
I was a zombie in the back seat of the black Mercedes that took me to and from my classes at Etonsons. I sat shell-shocked in my lectures, taking notes like a transcriptionist and not absorbing any of it. My phone was on silent, so every vibration of a text from my sister or an email from someone about the wedding plans had me racing to check my screen.
When I returned to the house after my last class, it was empty except for the staff. I went up the grand staircase, shivering in the cold despite the fact it still felt like summer outside. Macalister kept the house colder than a doctor’s office, convinced the low temperature kept the mind sharp.
I caught my reflection in the mirror over the dresser as I packed my mythology books into the suitcase I’d used to bring them here. Even though I was a college kid, I was no longer allowed to look or dress like one. I had on a gauzy black button-down blouse and camel brown cigarette pants, and my hair and makeup were done, and I looked more likely to go to a corporate event than a lecture on campus.
When everything was done, I perched myself on the edge of the bed and waited.
It wasn’t that much longer before I heard the security system chirp, the front door swing open, and slow footsteps on the stairs. Whoever it was, they were alone, and I swallowed thickly. Alice and Macalister usually rode to the office together, but Royce went on his own.
When he materialized in the shadow of the hallway, I rose to stand, and we stared at each other through my open doorway. Would he come in? Or would he turn and go into his own room, forcing me to follow him?
His expression was unreadable as he took a few hesitant steps my direction, stopping when he stood at the threshold. He was wearing my favorite of his suits, the cobalt blue one he’d worn during the awful luncheon where I’d made the deal with Macalister that I’d marry his son.
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. They hung in my throat, fighting over which line was the best to open with. When my eyes grew damp with tears, he moved into the room and pushed the door closed.
He asked it so softly, it broke my heart. “Are you all right?”
“No,” I said. “Are you?”
“No,” he admitted. His intense stare was like the sun. Too hard to look at for more than a moment at a time. His tone was hesitant. “I’m sorry I left last night. I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.”
“What?”
“After what you had to do for us. For me, really.” He looked tortured and ashamed. “I tried, Marist. I tried so fucking hard, and it still wasn’t enough.”
I inhaled so sharply, it hurt. Everything hurt. He thought he’d failed me? “Oh, my God, Royce. No, I’m sorry. I didn’t see another way, and I thought I could beat him, and—”
He came at me like an unstoppable hurricane, his hands diving into my hair and forcing me to look at him. His voice teemed with determination. “Don’t. You think I blame you? I can’t.” He took in a deep breath. “Watching you make that deal was almost as hard as the one I had to make. The only person I blame is him.” His focus dropped down to my lips like he was thinking about kissing me, and his voice rasped. “You? You did what you had to.”
When I closed my eyes, it unleashed the tear that had collected, and it rolled hotly down my cheek. Then his thumb was there, brushing it away a split-second before his lips settled on mine in a chaste kiss. This wasn’t him manipulating me, or even about desire.
It was two people enduring the same pain and finding relief in each other.
When our kiss ended, I pressed my forehead to his and kept my eyes closed because I was too scared to look at him when I asked it. “What happened after you left the maze?” My tone was terrified, and a shiver glanced down my spine. “Did you watch?”
“No.”
I let out a tight, stuttering breath, not caring if this was true or he’d only said it to spare me. For once, I was happy he was a spectacular liar. He ran his hands over my shoulders, down my arms, all the way until he had my hands grasped in his.
His fingers toyed with mine, and then he went wooden. Hurt and betrayal twisted on his face, and he stepped back, staring at me with new eyes. Like I had deceived him.
“You not wearing the ring.”
I swallowed a breath. “I’m leaving.”
Fire blazed in him and spilled out onto his face. “No.”
“I don’t belong here, and I don’t know how I can stay with what’s happened.”
Royce was stone with an angry cast to it. “No. Don’t let him win.”
“This isn’t a game!” I snapped. A glacier crept over me, making my toes and fingers numb. “I’m not a pawn for you and your father to play with.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. Just wait—”
“I already told you, I’m done waiting.”
He tilted his head as if noticing something alarming. “You’re trembling.”
I wasn’t. I was shivering. “I can’t seem to get warm since . . . last night.”
“Fuck, Marist,” he said softly. He tried to put his arms around me, but my hands came up and stopped him.
“Give me a reason to stay.”
He looked grim. “He’ll destroy your family if you leave.”
It was true. Besides the fact my father had worked for HBHC his whole career, Macalister was connected. He’d no
t only blacklist my father, he’d go out of his way to make sure it was impossible for my parents to find work.
“Give me another reason to stay.”
He didn’t understand what I was really asking. “Because he’ll destroy me if you leave.”
Also true, but I shook my head. “Try again. Tell me why I should stay.”
Royce’s exasperation made him put his hands on his waist, showing off his broad shoulders and lean form. “Because you’re mine. Because I want you to.”
Air caught in my lungs. “Why?”
His eyes narrowed at my challenge, and he volleyed his own back at me. “Give me the ring, and I’ll tell you.”
I gestured to the dresser. “It’s in the box with the mask you gave me.”
He went to it, opened the black box, and stared down at the delicate masquerade mask before fishing out the ring. “Do you like it?”
“The mask?” I could barely find the words. “Yes. It’s beautiful.”
He stalked toward me with the ring clasped between his fingers. Last time he’d come at me like this, he’d been nervous. But not today. He was filled with determination. He glanced down at the ring and back to me. “I need to know why you took this off.”
I shifted awkwardly on my feet, not wanting to say, but my silence only made it worse. “I don’t deserve to wear it after what I did.”
My answer made his eyes go wide. “That’s the reason?” He lunged forward and seized my left hand. “Put it back on.”
Instead, I drew back my hand. I was so cold, I left him standing there and strode into my bathroom, determined to find heat.
“Where are you going?” he asked, chasing after me.
His expensive brown dress shoes made loud clops on the tile floor as he followed me toward the glass walk-in shower. I cranked the handle, and seconds later water fell from the rain showerhead, sending steam wafting in the tiled space.
His voice was heavy with disbelief. “You’re taking a shower? Now?”
“No.” I gave him a stern look. “I will when you leave.” He stared at me like I was crazy, and, yes. I was acting like a girl on the edge of her sanity because I was. If I got any colder, I might die.
Or maybe I’d become Macalister. Cold-blooded and unfeeling.
I didn’t know which one was worse.
Royce’s voice was gentle. “Tell me what you need to make you stay.”
I stilled. “Was Sophia lying when she said you weren’t with anyone last year?”
He blinked his blue eyes that perfectly matched his suit, considering his answer carefully. “No.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t mean dating, I mean sex too.”
He didn’t want to reveal it, like this was somehow embarrassing. “There wasn’t anyone else.”
My pulse quickened with unexpected excitement. “Seriously? Why?”
“I don’t know.” He combed a hand through his hair. “I told you to wait for me, and after that, I felt . . . weird. I didn’t want to get into something with anyone else. You were my end goal.”
His statement put me off-kilter, but I tried to stay strong and not fall for his manipulation. “I’m supposed to believe that Royce Hale has a conscience? Because I don’t.”
“We said we wouldn’t lie when it was just us.”
“All right.” He’d walked right into my trap. “Are you planning to buy Ascension Bank?”
I watched the shields go up in his eyes, covering how nervous he really was. “What gave you that impression?”
“The fact that you own a four-point-nine percent stake in them was a big clue. It was buried in your email to Frank.”
The shower was steaming up the room, making him hot, although it didn’t touch me. I was still frosty cold. He shrugged out of his suit coat and hung it on one of the towel hooks.
“Did you mention this to my father?”
I pulled my chin back. “No.”
His expression was cryptic. “How do I know that’s true? You’re not wearing the ring anymore. For all I know, he’s turned you against me, and now you’re his spy.”
“He didn’t turn me against you, and I didn’t tell him.”
“Why not?”
I gave him the same answer he’d given me about why he hadn’t slept with anyone last year. “I don’t know.”
“I think I do,” he said. His face was as gorgeous and perfect as one of the statues in the hedge maze. “Maybe you’re in love with me.”
SEVENTEEN
ROYCE’S LUDICROUS STATEMENT punched an empty laugh from my chest. “I’m not.”
His eyes went loud with a challenge. “Then why didn’t you tell him?”
I ignored him. My gaze swung longingly to the shower as I crossed my arms over my stomach and held in what little warmth I had.
But Royce wasn’t going to let it go. He stepped between me and the water that rained from the ceiling and gurgled quietly down the drain, blocking my view so he was all I could see. Nothing but high cheekbones and full lips and eyes that stared relentlessly.
“Why’d you go through with the initiation?” His voice was steady and calm, but there was power buried in his words. “Why’d you play his game and save my board seat after I’d sold you to him? I mean, if you wanted to fuck my life over, that was your opportunity—but you didn’t. Tell me why.”
Everything was unraveling. “I don’t know!”
“Sure you do.” His cocky expression was seriously hot but also infuriating. Heat sparked inside me, and I latched on to it. He tilted his head and gave an impish smile. “You’re not the first girl to fall in love with me.”
“I’m not in love with you,” I hissed.
“We said no lies,” he reminded.
Oh, my God. I was going to murder him. Flames licked at my body, melting the ice.
His hand slipped inside his pocket and produced the ring. “You’re not the first girl to fall in love with me, Marist. But you’re going to be the last.”
My heart skipped and tumbled, wanting to believe, but my brain knew better. It flew into protection mode, refusing to accept what he’d said. “Now who’s lying?”
“Not me.” His conviction was absolute. “Put this ring on, back where it belongs.”
“This isn’t real,” I cried. “You’re just saying what you think I want to hear. Anything to keep me in check so your dad’s satisfied and everything goes according to your plan. This isn’t what you want.”
Heat flared in his eyes, two torches burning as he closed the ring up in a tight fist and began to toe off his shoes. “You want to know what I fucking want? I’ll show you.”
The ring was jammed back in his pocket, freeing up his hands so he could use them. One banded around my back and the other grabbed my ass, and a startled noise squeaked from me as I was lifted into his embrace. His face was furious. Resolute. He carried me into the shower, his feet splashing into the water pooled around the drain.
Hot water sluiced over our bodies. It drenched us and the clothes we wore in a matter of seconds, but not before I’d gasped in shock. Royce didn’t waver. Like he’d done in the rainstorm, as the water poured over him, he didn’t appear to notice. He’d ambushed me, and once I’d been captured, there was no escape.
Not that I wanted to.
He dropped me on my feet beneath the showerhead, and I only got a flash of his hungry look as I brushed a sopping lock of hair back out of my face. It was because his hands curled around the undone neckline of my shirt, and then he pulled the sides apart so hard, it sent buttons tinging and skittering across the tiled walls. Water slung everywhere.
It was . . . violent.
Primal and fucking erotic.
A muscle deep between my legs tightened and pulsed at his breathtaking action.
With the shirt out of his way, he hooked his fingers into the cup of my bra and jerked it down, setting my breast free. I bit my lip and threaded my hands in his soaked hair as his greedy mouth latched on to my nipple.
�
�Fuck,” I groaned. The throaty word bounced and echoed in the shower.
He was rough and wild, like a man pushed beyond his breaking point. Careless hands pawed at me, yanking the ruined shirt off my shoulders and down my arms until it fell into a sodden heap.
The other cup of my bra was jerked down so my breasts were pushed out over the tops, and he gave a sexy grunt as he bit the newly exposed flesh.
I wasn’t cold anymore. It was scorching in the shower. I arched my back, jutting my breasts into his face so he could better tease me. His tongue slid over my slick, glistening skin, flicking angrily back and forth over my distended nipple, punishing me with each lash.
I loved it.
But it wasn’t enough for him. He stood, slung back the water off his intense face, and seized my shoulder. It was so he could turn me around and get at the clasp of my bra. He undid the two hooks, releasing the tension on the band, and as soon as the bra began to slide down my arms, he was there, cupping my breasts with his hands, squeezing hard and cruel.
Royce brought our lower bodies together, pushing his hips into my ass. The thrust had enough force I had to slap my hands against the glass wall that looked out into the bathroom to stop myself from going headfirst into it. When he ground his erection against me, simulating what he wanted to do without clothes in our way, my body went white-hot.
One of his hands grasped my hip, and his fingers dug in, holding me as he rubbed the protruding zipper of his pants over my ass. His tone was merciless. “You want it?”
Oh, God, how I did. I matched his aggression, becoming a snarling, desperate thing. “Give it to me.”
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me toward him, curving me uncomfortably back so he could growl it in my ear. “After you put on my fucking ring.”
He released me with a shove, and my elbows banged into the glass, but he didn’t care. This was a man with purpose and drive, who’d spent too much time under his father’s rule. He was an alpha off the leash, determined to reestablish his dominance.
Royce grabbed my left hand, and then the ring was there, being jammed back down on its home on my finger. He let out a heavy sigh when it was done like he’d just defused a bomb.
