Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“And you?” Macalister’s look bore into me. “You have no feelings for Royce in anything other than a sexual capacity?”
Jesus. I licked my dry lips but surprised myself with how detached it came from me. “Yes, sir.”
Did Macalister believe me? His head tilted as he evaluated both of us. “All right.” He brought his hands together and leaned forward to rest his forearms on the desk, his attention directed at his son. “Then I don’t see any reason for you to object to me pursuing a sexual relationship with Marist.”
My heart stopped. “What?”
“Excuse me?” Royce said at the same time.
The library became a vacuum. Icy fingers plunged inside my chest, wringing the air from my lungs.
Was this another one of Macalister’s tests? His half-smile was pure evil as he turned it on me. “As I mentioned, you’re a beautiful young woman. While I’m glad you are here, I find myself wishing I hadn’t traded away my time to Royce. If there are no emotions for either of you, I don’t see the issue.”
“No,” I snarled.
He wasn’t fazed, but his son?
Royce struggled. His expression was devoid of any emotion, but his hand on the armrest was clenched in a fist, so hard it was white, and I could see the tendons straining.
Macalister focused on his son, his gaze moving from the tense fist up to meet his eyes. “You’ll continue your engagement and see it through the marriage. Everyone will believe she’s your wife, and she will be, but in name only. When we’re here, she’ll be mine.” His eyes were terrifying as he flexed his power. “Not yours.”
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
An earthquake of panic overtook me. Royce had warned me this could happen. He’d said his father might take me away from him. How he felt he truly owned everything Royce had.
“I imagine this isn’t appealing to you,” Macalister said. “In exchange for Marist, I would be willing to offer you stock.”
It bubbled up, escaping from me in a raging blur. “I’m not a piece of property that can be bought and sold.”
Macalister looked down his long nose at me. “Is that so? There’s a ring on your finger and a five-million-dollar deposit in your family’s bank account that says otherwise.”
Oh, my God. I doubled over, and the bile in my stomach threatened to erupt. His harsh truth cut me into a thousand pieces.
But I inhaled a shallow breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Royce would put a stop to this madness. Right now, that idea was the only thing holding me together. And as he sat there, staring at his father in disbelief, the wheels were turning in his head. I could see him considering and plotting. He was weighing different scenarios and working up solutions.
I just needed to give him more time.
“You’re married,” I spat at Macalister.
He waved the comment off. “Alice and I have an understanding. Neither of us wants to limit the other.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m not, and never will be, interested.”
Why the hell did he look pleased? Perhaps he thrilled at the chase.
“I admitted I underestimated you, but now,” a pompous, sexual look spread across his face, “I believe you are doing the same.” The frightening desire in his gaze faded as it shifted back to his son. “How does twenty thousand shares sound?”
I didn’t know exactly what HBHC was trading at, but it was usually around a hundred dollars a share. Macalister hadn’t just offered his son two million dollars, he’d offered so much more. There was considerable power connected to the shares.
“No,” Royce said.
I let out a heavy, grateful breath.
Macalister’s jaw ticked with displeasure. “What would it take? Fifty?”
Royce’s chest moved with his rapid, uneven breath, but that was the only indication he wasn’t fine. He was calm and business-like when he spoke. “I want the house.”
No.
My heart careened through my body to my toes, hitting every painful spot on the way down. How could he? How could he sell me out, and how the fuck could he do it so easily?
“Which house?” His father’s expression was dubious. “This house?” When it was clear the answer was yes, he scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Royce’s clenched fist relaxed, just enough that the blood started to flow again, and hope sparked in me as I realized what this was.
A bluff.
“It’s worth about the same,” Royce offered.
That confirmed what he was doing, and more relief snaked through me. He’d picked one of the few things his father wouldn’t trade away. While the house might have similar monetary value, it had greater value elsewhere. Maybe sentimental, but I doubted it. Perhaps it was the power. If the house was put in Royce’s name, Macalister would be living under his son’s roof.
And he couldn’t abide that.
The thought must have hit Macalister at the same moment, because he turned so frigid, I expected to see his frosty breath on the air.