THIRTEEN

Shock made me go boneless. My knees softened into nothing, and as I sagged, Macalister was there to keep me upright, his hands cold and splayed across my back.

“No,” I cried in a horrified whisper. “You can’t.”

“And yet, I do.” He looked confident as ever, saying it the same way he’d tell me money was green and his last name was Hale.

My hands were balled into fists with my forearms pressed to his shirt, and my muscles ached to move and beat my fists against his chest. It was so exceptionally cruel, I couldn’t breathe. I’d longed to hear one Hale tell me those words and mean it, and instead the universe had sent me another.

A tear spilled out and rolled down my cheek, but I was too shaky to do anything about it. Macalister moved to cup my face and hold me steady, and to my horror, he leaned in until there was no space left. He kissed my cheek, tasting my tear.

I finally found my strength and shoved him away, tripping over my long skirt and nearly falling over. I didn’t give a fuck who heard me now, and the sharp, angry word burst from my lips. “No. Get out.”

Beneath my skin, his kiss burned and stung, and I wiped at my cheek, trying to soothe the invisible mark away.

He straightened, and something like hurt flitted over his expression, but then it hardened. “He doesn’t love you. You’re nothing more than a cog in his master plan.”

“Get the fuck out.”

Oh, Macalister didn’t like that at all. His face soured, and aggression flared in his eyes. “If you don’t believe me, I suggest you ask him about his relationship with Dr. Galliat.”

I flashed back to the awkward reaction Selene’s father had when Royce appeared in Emily’s hospital room. The coincidence was hard to ignore. Was there a kernel of truth to what Macalister was saying? I shook my head, shutting down and trying to prevent an even worse overload. This was calculation. A strategic move he’d made to try to win the game of my heart, and I wasn’t going to allow it. Instead, I exacted a dark, cold demeanor and spoke in a language he understood.

“If you don’t leave this room right now, there will be serious and devastating consequences.”

It was subtle, the way he flinched and began his retreat. “I am sorry if hearing the truth upset you.” He gave me a final look, noting how I was shaking with adrenaline and a wide range of emotions, the strongest one being rage, and tipped his head to me in farewell. “I’m leaving this room, but you are smart enough to know I’m not going anywhere.”

I stood like a statue as he opened the door, walked out, and pulled it closed behind him. My blood was thundering in my ears, but I heard him tell my waiting family I needed a minute to compose myself. At least he’d done me that favor. It gave me time to drag air painfully into my lungs and press my shanking hand to my throat and the diamond necklace there.

They said the fall from heaven was painful, but I didn’t know going up to join the gods was going to be as well. Was I even going to survive it?

At some point, the door creaked open, and Emily peeked her head in. She gave me a once-over, her eyes widened, and she pushed into the room, announcing to everyone in the hall that I’d be out in a minute.

Seeing me in whatever state I was in made my sister go white. “What’s wrong? Is it something with Royce?”

I was still struggling to catch my breath. “No.”

“What did Macalister say to you?”

“He . . .” I couldn’t tell her. There was too much, and my shame was too great. I closed my eyes and set my fingertips to my forehead.

She gasped. “What is that?”

When she seized my right hand, I understood what she was asking about. Her stunned gaze traced the huge blue stone and the half-moon diamonds on either side.

“It was Royce’s mother’s.”

“Oh,” she said wistfully. “That’s wonderful.” She looked at me with an understanding look, like she believed this was why I was so emotional.

And like a coward, I let her.

My father and I stood in the sunroom at the back of the Hale house, sweating despite the air conditioning. It would only get hotter when we stepped out onto the patio and began the long walk down the stone stairs into the garden, and then up the aisle to where my groom waited. And there’d be five hundred pairs of eyes on us as we did it, which was likely why my father looked ill.

At least I’d had some practice. Not only had I broken in my Manolos going up and down the steps numerous times the last week, but I’d been at the top of that same staircase nearly a year ago with Royce and withstood the scrutiny of Cape Hill’s high society when I was a nobody.

In theory, today would be easier.

The photographers circling us made me feel like my performance had already begun, and I pulled my lips back into a bright, nervous smile. For the next ten hours or so, I’d be on stage, reprising my role of Marist Northcott the brand, not Marist Northcott the person. Hopefully, the smiles would come easier once my stage partner was at my side. Royce was an experienced actor, who’d cover up any forgotten lines and guide me through the scenes.

When the event coordinator opened the door and announced it was time, my heart clogged my throat. I clutched my bouquet tighter in my left hand and looped my right arm through my father’s, and he set his hand on top of mine in reassurance.

“Your mother and I love you very much,” my father said. “We’re so happy you’re happy.”

When his chin began to quiver, my eyes went wide. “Oh, God, Dad. Please. If you start, I’ll start.”

He nodded, blew out a long breath that seemed to even him out, and then we were off.

The music of the orchestra wafted up over the balcony as the processional concluded, and as my father and I made our way toward the top of the steps, the garden below came into view.

It’d taken a team of contractors five days to transform the space. Elegant white folding chairs were set in endless rows, twelve seats on each side of the wide center aisle, which was a boardwalk covered in flawless white. It led to a white, three-tiered platform at the front like a stage, and at the back of it rose an arbor, draped in gauzy curtains and decadent flower arrangements. It’d serve as the backdrop for the ceremony, and microphones had been hidden inside so everyone could hear us as we exchanged our vows.

The bridal party was already assembled. Emily and Sophia looked stunning in their pink dresses, and Vance and Tate were handsome as they stood on the platform steps in their tuxedos, sweating under the bright sun.

As my father and I appeared at the top of the steps, the guests’ conversations abruptly stopped, and they rose to stand. I was Medusa once more, turning the entire crowd into stone.

During the rehearsal last night, my father and I had been instructed to pause here for a minimum of fifteen seconds. My father had been told not to start us moving again until he received a wave from the head coordinator at the base of the stairs. I was supposed to use this time to get my first look at my groom—that way I wouldn’t be distracted while I descended the stone steps. It was precarious in four-inch heels, a full skirt, and a heavy train.

Fifteen seconds wasn’t nearly enough time.

Royce was so far away from me, but it didn’t matter. I could see his enormous grin from where I stood. I’d seen him in tuxedos before, but rather than the standard bowtie, he’d opted for a black silk necktie, tucked into a black vest, and covered with a classic matching jacket. It left only a V of his white shirt showing and drew my eyes up to his gorgeous face.

He made my heart stop, but as my father’s arm gently pulled me along, it started anew.

I smiled as we slowly descended the stairs, my teeth clenched with concentration and my long train and veil trailing behind us. When we reached the bottom, I felt the full intensity of everyone’s stares, but I had tunnel vision.

I only saw Royce.

And I wanted my father to move faster so I could get to my groom quicker. I couldn’t wait for the moment when my father would put my hand in Royce’s because I felt like I hadn’t touched my fiancé in a lifetime, and I was desperate to have the connection back.

After the rehearsal dinner last night, we’d said goodnight and slept in separate bedrooms in the same house for the first time in months. He’d texted me in the morning to say he hadn’t slept well, but only because he’d been missing me.

So, while he still hadn’t said the words, I believed in my heart he felt them. As I marched up the aisle toward him, he gazed at me with so much emotion in his eyes, it couldn’t be anything other than love.

He came down the three steps of the platform to meet us, waited for my father to give me a kiss on the cheek, then accepted my father’s hearty handshake. When my hand was finally set in his, electricity poured through me. I sighed in relief, feeling as long as Royce and I were together, there wasn’t anything that could stop us.

Not even Macalister Hale.

We walked together up the steps toward the officiant waiting for us, and when we reached our places, Emily and Sophia hurried to spread out my train and make it picture perfect as it cascaded down the platform’s steps. Royce stole a glance down at the unfamiliar ring on my right hand—and did a double-take. He gazed at the ring like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He lifted his confused, rapidly blinking eyes to mine, and whispered, “My mother’s?”

I nodded.

His incredulous smile nearly broke my heart, it was that full of love.

The ceremony was a blur, and it was a small mercy for our guests. Even though it was just the first week of June, it was hot and humid and there weren’t any clouds in the blue sky, so we were all baking in the sun. I was sweating through my makeup, and there were undoubtably artists waiting to dab powder at me in the shade of the gazebo at the back of the garden, before Royce and I would pose for pictures.

Once we’d said our vows and exchanged rings, I couldn’t stop staring at the silver band across his finger. It was easily the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. It played a big part in how excited I was when it came time for Royce to kiss me.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the officiant said, his voice raised proudly, “I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Royce Hale.”

We turned to face the crowd and their thunderous applause, and a thrilled smile broke on my face. Perhaps the sea of happy people before us were all sycophants and didn’t really care, but they looked up at us with such excitement and joy I decided to accept it exactly as it appeared.

It was unavoidable how my gaze drifted to the couple in the front row on Royce’s side. Alice’s champagne colored dress had beads cascading down the front, like someone had tossed handfuls of glitter at her and they scattered over the fabric. She wore a perfectly manufactured smile as she stood beside her husband.

Macalister wasn’t smiling or clapping; his expression was fixed. To others, he might look mildly irritated or bored, but I saw the scowl aching to bow on his lips and the seethe locked in his eyes.

I tangled my hand tighter with my husband’s and gave him the biggest smile in my arsenal.

Royce was so exhausted by the end of the night, he fell asleep in the limo as it carried us toward the Four Seasons hotel. We’d spend our wedding night there, and tomorrow evening the Hale jet would take us to Nice, then we were on to Cannes where the yacht and her crew waited for us.

His hand was clasped in mine and nestled in the folds of my skirt, and I grinned at the ring gleaming on his finger. Would I ever get used to that? My smile grew wider, but it could also have been the three glasses of champagne I’d consumed on a mostly empty stomach. They’d been for medicinal purposes—my feet were killing me.

I’d expected the day to be long, but nowhere near as enjoyable as it had been—minus my visit from Macalister. Once I fully committed to my role as Marist Hale and treated the endless mingling as a game, it was . . . kind of fun. We’d put on a show and completed all the tasks required of us, cutting the cake and the first dance. We’d done our best to greet each guest and thank them for coming. We’d laughed at the toasts our siblings gave and kissed when people clinked their silverware against their glasses.

But we hadn’t gotten a moment to ourselves until the limo, and he’d faded fast. I decided to let him rest, not wanting to bring up what his father had said and mar an otherwise perfect day.

I took a picture of him asleep in his tux, me snuggled beside him, and posted it to Instagram, tagging it with all the hashtags I would have hated or called cheesy a year ago. But now I believed them. It’d been a hard road to get here, but maybe we were a fairytale romance. We’d earned our happily ever after.

When the car pulled up to the front of the Four Seasons and the doorman opened the back door, I nudged Royce. “Power nap is over, husband.”

He blinked his sleepy blue eyes and quickly became more alert, sitting up straight and flashing a lazy smile. “Okay, wife.”

The elevator ride up to the presidential suite was quick, and I carried my excruciating pink shoes in my hands as I strolled toward the bedroom and flopped down on the mattress, my dress and bustled train billowing around me. Royce shed his jacket and unbuttoned his vest, and he leaned against the doorframe, watching me as he loosened his tie.

“You hungry?” he asked. “Want me to order something?”

“I’ll be asleep before it arrives.” I rose onto my elbows, half sitting up so I could look at him directly. “I can’t believe I married you.”

He understood exactly how I meant it, and the corner of his mouth quirked upward. “I can. I had you the minute I said you looked like Medusa.”

I pressed my lips together. He was right, but it had taken me a while to figure it out. “And when did I have you?”

His eyes deepened. “I told you, long before that. That night you went to the club with Emily.”

“Oh, right.” I pretended I’d just remembered. “The night you called me a nobody.”

He straightened from the door and stalked toward me, seduction flooding every inch of his face. “You’re not a nobody anymore. You’re my wife. Marist fucking Hale.”

I loved the sound of it, and I grinned darkly. “Should I put that on my business cards?”

“Do it.” He chuckled and climbed on top of me, straddling my hips and the wedding dress I wore. I lay back down as he delivered a slow, thorough kiss, like he’d been storing it up all day for me. His tongue dipped into my mouth, creating an achy desire that filled my body.

“I have to warn you,” I said, my voice rasping, “I’ve had a lot of champagne, and I might fall asleep on you.”

A short laugh was buried in the side of my neck. He echoed the same thing I’d said after I’d been released from the hospital. “I’ll do most of the work. You can just lie there and take it.”

I laughed. “Okay.”

But once he started, there was no danger of sleep.

The plane had just leveled off when Royce asked, like he’d been waiting for the ‘all-clear,’ “When did he give you the ring?”

I was still wearing it, and instinctively tensed. I wasn’t sure I was ready to have this conversation now. Maybe it was better to wait until we were too far across the Atlantic for Royce to order the pilots to turn around.

“Oh, uh, right before the ceremony.”

I’d been anything but normal with my answer, and he latched on instantly. “What happened?”

I wasn’t going to lie to him, but I stalled on telling the truth. “He said he thought your mother would have wanted me to have it, and that he hoped part of her could be with you on your wedding day.”

It was like I’d just told him Vance had been elected president. “He said that specifically? Or did he make you think that’s what he meant?”

He didn’t believe his father could do anything heartfelt because his father didn’t have a heart. My breath caught as I considered the two possibilities. Either Macalister’s gesture was genuine, and he was capable of feelings—meaning it was possible he was truly in love with me—or he was an emotional void, and the gift was just a calculated move to draw me in.

I wasn’t sure which possibility was worse.

I cleared the lump from my throat. “No, he said it specifically. He said it was hard for him to give it away because it means a lot to him.”

It was unavoidable, the way both of our gazes fell to the ring, and Royce’s voice lost some of its power. “I asked him if he’d let me have it so I could give it to you. He told me no.”

The urge to deflate was fierce, but I forced out a smile to stay strong for him. “When I look at this ring, I’m only thinking about her. All that matters is she was there with us, okay?”

He took in a deep breath and stared at me with his intense eyes, which saw all the way to the bottom of my soul. “Yeah.”

When the conversation fell quiet, the only sound was the hum of the plane’s powerful engines, carrying us away from Boston. I tried to let it go, but the truth itched under my skin. “Your dad said some . . . other things.”

Royce’s gaze had been out the window, but it turned back to me, and he looked wary. Like he knew whatever I was about to say would be bad, and he wasn’t going to like it. “Like what?”

My pulse was whirring as fast as we were hurtling through the sky. “He told me he loved me.”

He turned to stone for a long moment, before a sneer curled on his lips. His tone was patronizing. “As a daughter-in-law?”

It was doubly cruel for him, as his father hadn’t told Royce he loved him in at least sixteen years. Maybe his whole life he’d gone without hearing it.

I could barely choke the words out. “As in, he’s in love with me.”

“You believe him?” My husband’s expression was measured and cautious.

“No.” The word came quickly. “I don’t know,” I amended, staring at my hands in my lap. “It doesn’t matter either way. I love you, and you love me.”

My gaze flicked to his in a challenge, and he accepted it with a resounding word. “Yes.”

It was the closest he’d come to saying it, which made warmth spread through my chest, but it was also the ultimate tease. He could be so strong and assertive when he wanted. Why was it so hard for him to say what we both knew was true?

“When we land,” he said, “I’m going to get someone to find a place for us in Boston.”

“It’ll be midnight Eastern time when we land.”

Determination pushed his mouth into a frown. “In the morning, then, but we’re moving out.”

Of course, I wanted to leave. The patriarch of the Hales was in love with me, and another wanted to kill me. But my practical side gave a humorless laugh. “He won’t let us. You know he’ll find a way to force us to stay, either with your job or your inheritance—”

“He’ll throw us out as soon as I take his seat.”

“But that could be months away.” Ascension had fought tooth and nail while they looked for a white knight company to save them. It’d forced up HBHC’s offer.

Royce shook his head. “No, they caved. Their board is voting by the end of the week.” He adjusted the unfamiliar wedding band on his finger. “I bet the news breaks while we’re still on our honeymoon.”

“How long will you wait before you—”

“I won’t do anything. I left the ‘when’ up to Tate, but I think he’ll wait a few weeks before he blows the whistle.” Arrogance threaded through his expression. “Just long enough for my dad to congratulate himself on his big win.”

“And after, what happens to Ascension? To Tate?”

He shrugged like he wasn’t talking about a company worth billions of dollars. “Obviously, we’ll need to clean house, and Tate knows where the dirtiest people are.”

Meaning he’d take care of his friend and put him in a high-level position to manage the restructure.

“Your father said something else.” I watched him closely to gauge his reaction. “Had you ever met Dr. Galliat before that day in Emily’s hospital room?”

There was only confusion in his face. “No.”

“So, you’d never spoken to him before.” I used the same word Macalister had. “You don’t have any kind of relationship with him.”

“Relationship?” he repeated. He paused to draw in a breath. “No, of course not.”

My heart ground to a halt, and the rest of me went on autopilot. “Then why would your father say you did?”

Royce lifted a hand casually. “Because he wants to get between us.”

And he’d been successful, because I was certain my husband had just lied to me.