SIXTEEN

I flinched and tried to scoot away, but Macalister’s grasp on my hips stopped me.

“No,” I said.

“Or I give you an orgasm,” he added. “Whichever comes first.”

I’d hoped to outlast him. Two minutes I could endure, but it had been two months since the initiation, and there was no way I’d survive an hour of his torment. “I didn’t agree to—”

A trill erupted from the phone he had tucked in his pocket, shattering the ice that had trapped me. He unlaced our fingers and sat back on his heels as the phone was answered and brought to his ear.

“What?” he barked.

He’d been furious to be disturbed, but as he listened to the other side of the conversation, his expression changed.

His eyes widened, then narrowed.

His posture stiffened. The muscle running along his jaw flexed.

Whatever he was hearing, it was serious and urgent. Hope sparked inside me. Was I about to get a reprieve?

“How interesting.” Macalister’s tone was sharp as a dagger. “I appreciate you letting me know.” His gaze swept down over my naked body, my bound hands clasped between my legs, and he seemed to be weighing his options as if deciding which he wanted to deal with first—the new information or the trembling girl in front of him.

“No,” he said. “We need to consider how to respond. Find Richard and bring him to my office.”

The phone call ended as abruptly as it had started.

He stared down at me with a hard look, full of disappointment, and it was clear he hated the words coming out of his mouth. “We’ll have to continue this another time.”

“There’s nothing to continue.” My heartrate flew as I scrambled toward escape. “I gave you your two minutes.” Counting the phone call, I’d given him even more.

His face turned so ugly, I shivered. He grabbed the knot where he’d bound my hands and jerked to get my attention. “You made me wait, and therefore you owe me interest.”

I shook my head. “I never agreed to that. Untie me. We’re finished.”

“We’re finished when I say we are.”

Strong, rough hands lifted, and I was pulled down into Macalister’s lap so I was straddling him as he sat back on his heels. He ducked his head into the circle created by my bound arms, and my eyes went painfully wide.

This position was terribly dangerous.

First, because my naked body was positioned over his significant erection and I could feel every inch of him through his pants. Second, escape was virtually impossible, from both his grasp and his bottomless eyes. And third, because while he’d kissed his way down my body, he’d undone the buttons of his shirt. It hung open at his sides, exposing his toned chest and taut stomach.

His hands were splayed on my back, and he urged me forward before I could stop him. His kiss landed on my lips at the same moment my bare skin pressed to his, and between my legs, there was the subtle jerk of his cock. He liked the way I felt against him, my breasts flattened to the faint dusting of hair on his warm chest.

“No. Stop.” I jerked away and struggled to get out of his lap, but his arms tightened around me. It didn’t seem to be to restrain me so much as it was to try to get me to calm down.

“You promised me,” I reminded. “I’m saying ‘stop.’ Let me go.”

There was a long, scary second where I believed he considered ignoring me, but then his mouth brushed over the shell of my ear. “All right. I’ll release you as soon as you kiss me.”

What? No. I shook my head.

“Then we’ll stay as we are until I have what I want.” He shifted me in his arms, reminding me of all the indecent places we were connected. “It’s a simple kiss.”

“Nothing with you is simple,” I hissed.

He drew back so I could see him. He liked hearing what I’d said, judging by his expression. It was pure arrogance. I wanted out, to be free from under his command and away from the Minotaur’s ravenous eyes. I had to be practical. This wasn’t nearly as bad as the alternative and the fastest way. I shut off my brain, leaned forward, and flattened my mouth to his before he could react.

I hated him.

He pushed, and pushed, and as his kiss seared across my lips, I wondered how much longer it would be before he wore me down. Before he broke me. He’d already turned my body against me. His tongue swept into my mouth and coaxed me to join him, and although I refused, the sensation of it wasn’t . . . unpleasant.

He clearly enjoyed it, and like a true Olympian, Macalister didn’t give a fuck about how wrong it was.

Finally, he released me from his thorough kiss, lifted my arms over his head, and set about undoing the tie.

“We can take as much time as you’d like,” he said softly, “but be aware you’re putting off the inevitable.” His eyes darkened as they filled with power. “I’ve negotiated billion-dollar mergers and destroyed every company that tried to take what’s mine, Marist. People far more powerful than you have surrendered to me.” He lifted an eyebrow in a soft taunt. “Do you believe you can refuse me forever?”

No, I didn’t.

But I sure as hell was going to try.

Macalister tried to help me get dressed, but I scooped up his suit coat, shoved it at him, and ordered him to go. He didn’t like being told what to do, but he must have sensed I was on the edge of a total breakdown, and emotions made him uncomfortable. It was better for both of us if he disappeared.

I clutched my dress over my body and stood stock-still as he went, waiting until I couldn’t hear his footfalls anymore before returning to life. Perhaps ‘life’ wasn’t the right word. I didn’t feel alive. I was numb, an empty vessel as I pulled on my clothes and trudged through the maze, avoiding using the dishonest door I now knew existed.

When I neared the house, I looked up at Royce’s window and saw the light on. Was he in there? Oh, my God. He had a view of the maze from above. Had he seen what his father had done? My dinner roiled in my stomach and threatened to come up. The shame was overwhelming. It made my joints hurt, my bones ache.

The house was quiet as I came inside. Only a step on the back staircase creaked as I made my way up them. It was the longer route to get to my room, but I wanted to avoid running into Macalister.

And I didn’t run into him. It was the youngest of the Hale men who I encountered in the dark hallway as he slipped out of Alice’s room. Vance’s startled expression was guilty for a moment, before it filtered out and he returned to normal. We gave each other a hard, evaluating stare.

“Hey, Marist.” He forced casualness into his voice. “I was helping Alice with something. You okay?”

I couldn’t get the chill of his father off me. Maybe I’d never be warm again. But I fed Vance the lie automatically. “I’m fine.”

We both began moving toward our rooms at the other end of the long hallway.

“Must have been some fight.”

“What?” I asked.

He looked at me skeptically. “I assumed that what’s happened since Royce lost his shit.”

Nervousness quicken my breath. “What do you mean?”

“Oh. Uh . . . I guess I’ll show you.”

Down we went, past my room and his, to the closed door of Royce’s. Vance didn’t knock. He gripped the handle, turned, and pushed the door open. I made a horrible, choked sound of surprise, and my hand came up to cover my mouth.

The room was a disaster.

Furniture lay on its side, lamps were broken. The black coffee table looked like it had been flipped over and gouged a chunk out of the wall when it had fallen. The mirror that had once hung above the dresser was shattered, and a hundred tiny reflections of my stunned face stared back at me, more pieces scattered across the carpet.

“He was upset.” Vance’s statement was simplistic, but his voice had gravity that carried the seriousness. “He didn’t exactly know how to deal with it.”

My heart slowed, petrifying painfully. “Where is he?”

“He called for a car a little while ago. I asked Tate to check on him, and he texted back that he was already with Royce.”

My eyes stung as they filled with tears, but I blinked them back. “Is he okay?”

Vance couldn’t have looked more surprised if he’d tried. “Yeah, he’ll be fine. He’ll probably need a day or two to get over himself, but then I’m sure he’ll apologize.”

I didn’t understand. “Apologize?”

“For whatever he did that made you guys fight.” He crossed his thick arms and leaned against the wall beside the door, setting his full attention on me. “Look, I’m sure he wasn’t your first choice, and at times my brother can be a real asshole, but I’m pretty sure he cares about you. Like, a lot.” His boyishly handsome face was uncharacteristically serious and genuine. “I don’t know if that’s ever happened before.”

I’d thought it was impossible to feel any worse, but I’d been wrong. I couldn’t bear to look at him as he pleaded his big brother’s case. I traced the scrolling pattern in the hallway carpet and tried to hold myself together.

“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 not 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.”