FOURTEEN

Sun bounced off the ripples of blue water, and even though I had on sunglasses, the glare was so bright, I still had to shield my eyes. I lay next to Royce on the lounging bed beside the small in-deck pool and tried to focus on the novel I was reading. It was a modern retelling of the story of Ares and Aphrodite, and the book was so hot, it would have made me sweat if I wasn’t already.

But I couldn’t focus on my book, because as he’d done that first night in the library, he was staring at me. More specifically, he was staring at the white string bikini with gold accents I was wearing, and each pass of his lust filled gaze forced me to re-read the last line.

“I’m trying to read,” I said, adjusting the way I was propped up by the pillows.

“Then read.” I wasn’t looking at him, but I could hear the devilish smile in his words. “I didn’t tell you to stop.”

He was distracting in every way. First, he was the poster child for a billionaire playboy right now, lying on the deck of his private yacht in only his aviator sunglasses and black swim trunks, three days’ worth of suntanning making his skin golden brown. Second, I felt his relentless eyes all over me, touching every crevice, stroking each sensitive spot.

And third, when I didn’t give him the attention he desired, he used his fingertips to trace the Medusa tattooed over my ribs. It was pleasurable lightning across my skin, and even more exciting when he leaned over and kissed the ink. It was enough of a distraction for him to grab one of the gold ends of my bikini top and start tugging at the string.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” I tried to fake a scowl, but it came out as a lopsided grin.

His kiss moved over the fabric cups of my top while he continued to slowly pull at the string, giving me ample time to stop him.

“We’re in France.”

I threaded my hands through his hair, holding his head to my chest as his mouth traced the edges of my suit. “Technically, we’re in the Principality of Monaco.”

We’d sailed down from Cannes yesterday afternoon and dropped anchor outside the port. The coast of the ultra-rich city-state loomed in the distance.

“Technically, we’re in the territorial waters of the Principality of Monaco.”

“Someone might see,” I whispered, pretending to be reluctant.

His lips fluttered against the skin in the valley between my breasts as he spoke. “Then they’d be really fucking lucky because your tits are amazing. Come on, Marist. Go European for your husband.”

I laughed and arched my back, reaching behind myself to undo the knot. I’d never been shy about my body, and they were just boobs. I wasn’t going to be embarrassed if someone from the crew got an eyeful. They’d probably seen topless clients dozens of times.

Royce pulled the top away, the strings trailing over my body, and dropped it to the deck. “See? Better this way. No tan lines.”

He sucked on my neck while his fingers drew slow circles around my breast, each circuit tighter than the last, closing in on my nipple. My eyes fell shut, and I surrendered to the sensations.

I didn’t know what to do about how he’d lied to me. I had no evidence, only Macalister’s word, which came with an agenda for sure. And I wasn’t exactly being honest with my new husband either. I still hadn’t told him what had happened during Thanksgiving in Aspen.

So, I didn’t bring it up. Instead, I let his hand wander south and inch below the waist of my bikini bottom. My voice was husky. “Are you going to try to fuck me out here?”

“No. I am going to fuck you out here.”

The multilevel yacht wasn’t anchored near anything else, and it bobbed gently in the calm waters. The ship was huge. We were out on the lowest deck of the stern, and although we felt completely alone, there was a crew of six aboard.

His tone was sinful. “You don’t want to?” His fingers worked deeper inside my bikini and strummed my clit, making pleasure sizzle across my nerves. “We’ve never had sex outdoors before.”

But we had with other people watching, hadn’t we? I pushed the thought away and refocused on what he was doing to me. When a soft sigh drifted from my lips, victory flashed through him.

He knew he had me.

Although our cabin was spacious, the bed was soft, and the waves served to rock us to sleep, it wouldn’t come for me. This afternoon, we’d taken the dinghy into Monaco. We had dinner at one of the finest restaurants in town and played blackjack at the Casino Monte Carlo. We’d been up by twenty thousand euros at one point, but then our luck ran out and we managed to leave only a few hundred in the hole.

We’d had drinks and danced at a nightclub, full of loud, pumping music, a gorgeous atmosphere, and rich people. Heiresses, royals, and celebrities. At one point, we ran into one of the guys Royce had gone to Harvard with. Royce invited him to join us for a drink, but the guy declined, and I was relieved. He’d seemed like a dick, and right as we were leaving, I saw him snorting coke with two women I could only assume were models.

It was late when we’d climbed into bed, and Royce had fallen right to sleep, and although I was tired, there was a nagging at the back of my mind that would not be quiet. It told me if I didn’t draw the line now, I’d be setting myself up for more lies in the future.

The disappointment that he hadn’t stayed truthful was hard to swallow, but what could I do? I wasn’t going to ask my sister to talk to Selene’s father about it. Emily wasn’t ready to reach out.

That meant the only person who knew about it was Macalister. It was only eight-thirty at night in Cape Hill. I debated it for a long while, until the decision was made. I sat up, grabbed my phone off the nightstand, and went out through the sliding door onto the balcony.

My feet were cold against the deck as I paced back and forth, trying to figure out how to word it. Once I’d finished typing, my finger hovered over the ‘send’ arrow. Was I opening Pandora’s Box by doing this? The need to know what Macalister knew was eating me from the inside.

Me: Royce says he doesn’t know Dr. Galliat.

I pictured Macalister on the other side of the ocean, checking his phone and the message bringing an evil smile to his face. This was my honeymoon, and here I was, secretly texting my father-in-law in the middle of the night.

It was only seconds later that the gray bubble with the three dots popped up, and when the message came through, my blood ran cold.

Macalister: He’s lying to you.

Me: How do you know?

There was no response.

Not even a bubble, so he wasn’t typing.

I sighed and leaned my forearms against the top of the balcony railing, looking out at the lights dotting the coast of Monaco while the ocean wind whipped through my hair. My gaze went to the now dark screen of the phone in my hands, and the two rings glinted back. One from Royce and one from Macalister. Which one was the liar?

When the phone vibrated, I nearly dropped it to the deck below but managed to hang on. I unlocked the screen and blinked in confusion. What was I looking at? I rotated the phone to landscape and zoomed in. It was a $100,000 check issued to Dr. Brandon Galliat from RMH Industries, LLC—for consulting work, according to the memo field.

I started typing a response to ask what I was looking at, but Macalister’s next reply rolled in.

Macalister: RMH is one of the shell corporations Royce uses to buy stock.

My stomach twisted in knots. Even before I read the next line, I knew he was telling the truth.

Macalister: It’s his initials.

It was fresh in my memory, since four days ago I had become Mrs. Royce Macalister Hale.

I peered at the screen capture for a long time, willing the letters to change and make it untrue. I tried to make sense of it. What kind of consulting would Royce’s sham company need from a psychology professor from an all-women’s college?

I threw open the sliding door so hard, it slammed against the track stop, and Royce stirred. He blinked his bleary eyes at me when I clicked on the overhead lights.

“Wake up,” I snapped.

He could tell by my tone something was seriously wrong, and he bolted upright, coming fully awake in an instant. The covers were gathered around his waist, and he pushed them down so he could stand, wearing just a pair of underwear. He gazed at me from the other side of the bed, taking in the short silk nightgown I wore and the cold fury burning on my face.

“What’s wrong?” He couldn’t have sounded more worried if he’d tried.

“Tell me again about Dr. Galliat and how you don’t have a relationship with him.”

His shoulders pulled back, and his shields went up. “Marist, what on earth?”

“Why did RMH Industries cut him a check for a hundred grand?”

It took a moment for the gravity of my question to sink in, and it was like I’d shot him. Royce’s knees folded, and he sat at the edge of the bed, no longer able to look at me. He let out an enormous sigh. “I lied to you.”

“No, fucking, shit. Tell me what the money was for.” I prayed I was wrong, that it was just a terrible coincidence.

Royce leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. “I had to be sure. My dad had such a hard-on for me marrying Emily.” He scrubbed his face, turned his head, and gave me a devastating look. “I didn’t want her. I wanted you.”

He wasn’t going to say it, so I did it for him. “You paid him to get her pregnant.”

His guilty expression confirmed it. “Sophia found out who she was dating, and it wasn’t hard to convince him. If it worked, I promised him I’d look after her.”

For a split second, I considered telling him his money had been wasted. Emily had confessed to me the night of the initiation she’d wanted to avoid the Hales so badly, she’d tried to get pregnant herself.

But if I told Royce that, it would be like letting him off the hook, and he’d done a terrible thing. He was a true Olympian god now, meddling with the mortal world and not caring what havoc it caused.

“You fucked with her life,” I cried. “Do you get that? You changed the course of it forever. And she almost fucking died. For what?”

He rose and faced me directly, and his eyes were two cauldrons over the fires of war. “So you could be my wife!”

I stared at him with total disbelief.

His swift, deliberate footsteps brought him closer until we were chest to chest. “Everything I have done—every fucking move I made—was to bring us together. I’m sorry I lied to you. It’s not an excuse, but I was ashamed, and I knew if I told you, you’d look at me exactly the way you are right now.”

He jammed a hand in his messy hair and stared off into the distance, trying to organize the thoughts in his head. “I warned you before this was all over, you might think I was worse than my father.”

"Don’t you dare try to—”

He was determined to finish. “I’m sorry your sister was part of my contingency plan, but I was desperate by then and out of options. I’m not proud of what I did, but—shit—I had to do it. It was win at all costs.” His hands were rough around my waist, hauling me up against him. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat if I had to, Marist. As long as I got you in the end.”

My heart split in two. One half swelled at hearing his declaration, and the other wanted to stomp all over it. I pushed against his bare chest, but he didn’t move, and it made me stumble back a step.

Was this why he’d been so attentive to Emily? He’d confessed to me once he didn’t care about my family. Had everything he’d done for my sister been out of guilt?

My emotions made my throat raw and sapped the strength from my voice. “Stop telling me what you think I want to hear.”

“I’m not. It’s the truth.”

“How can I believe that? You said we wouldn’t lie to each other—but you did.”

His frame hardened, and the muscle along his jaw ticked. It restrained his biting tone. “Because you’ve been nothing but honest with me, right?”

Oh, no. My gaze plummeted to my toes like it was made of lead.

“Yeah, I thought so.” He sighed. “He’s been dropping comments for months, hinting there was something you weren’t telling me. So, what is it?”

I hugged my arms around myself. Part of me was relieved to finally get the truth out, but I dreaded it too. “Our first night in Aspen,” I said slowly, “when you went down on me. Your dad walked in on us, and . . . he watched.”

I raised my tentative gaze back to Royce, not wanting to see his reaction but knowing I deserved whatever was waiting for me.

His expression was blank. Too guarded for anything to leak out, but his stare was piercing. “He watched us have sex?”

“No, it was only for a minute.” I shifted uncomfortably on my feet and frowned. “I’d been telling him for weeks I only wanted you, but he wouldn’t stop. So, when he came in, I foolishly thought I’d show him.”

Displeasure smeared across my husband’s face, but he didn’t appear that angry with me. Perhaps he was thinking unfortunately it wasn’t the first time his father had witnessed us together, or maybe the basic, competitive male drive inside him responded to it. He’d shown his father which Hale I’d chosen, who had won.

“But it backfired.” My voice was empty. “He held it over my head and forced me into another deal.”

That stopped Royce cold. “What’d you do?”

“He made me watch Alice’s punishment and listen to her apology.” There was no soft or elegant way to say it. “And to punish her, she had to go down on him and then he came on her face.”

“What?” It took forever for the words to sink it.

“I didn’t want to be there, but he threatened everything would go back to how it was before. You know, after you’d sold me to him.”

“You watched my dad get a blowjob?” He grimaced. “That’s fucked up, Marist.”

It was, but he wasn’t being fair. I’d done it and worse so we could be together. My eyes went so wide with fury, they nearly burst from my head. “Not nearly as much as your family’s fucked up initiation, Royce.”

Anger tightened his eyes to slits. “I’ve told you that’s the first thing I’m going to change when I’m chairman.”

There was a meanness growing in me that was frightening, but I was powerless to stop it. Opening Macalister’s text message had been Pandora’s Box, and all the evils spilled out.

“But why?” I mocked. “Is it because when Vance joins the board, you’ll already know what Jillian’s pussy tastes like?”

He flinched. “Okay, first, that was years ago. And second, if you think I’d put anyone else through what we had to do, you’re out of your fucking mind.”

I was, though. My seams tore open as I unraveled. Everything was falling apart.

“You know what’s the worst part?” Tears welled in my eyes. “He told me he loved me, and you haven’t. I’m your wife, and you still haven’t.” He opened his mouth to say something, but I lifted my hand to stop him. “And if you said it now? How could I believe you?”

His eyes trapped mine, refusing to let go. “You may not believe me, but paying off Emily’s professor is the only lie I’ve ever told you when it was just us. I swear.”

He sounded so sincere, and I longed to believe him, but my mind refused. We’d begun as fiction and become real, but he’d let this lie live between us since the start. All the trust he’d built back up after the awful night he’d sold me to his father was shattered.

Oh, God. What if everything Macalister had been telling me from the beginning was true, and everything from his son was a lie?

“Where are you going?” he called, chasing after me as I hurried from the room and down the narrow hallway.

“I’ll sleep on one of the couches in the living room.”

“Fuck, no, you won’t. Come back to bed, and let’s talk about it.”

I gave him a death glare. “I need to be alone right now.”

He gave a sigh of frustration, and when he pinched the bridge of his nose, my focus landed on the wedding band. It hurt. That ring was the prize he’d wanted and gotten at my sister’s expense.

“Fine. I’ll sleep out here,” he said. “You take the room.”

I gave a short nod and headed back the way we’d just come, while he stood statue still. But I paused in the hallway with my back turned when he abruptly spoke.

“This is what he wants,” he said. “Don’t let him do this to us.”

My memory drifted back to the night he’d sold me and how I’d pleaded with him as he’d walked away. It had wounded me deeply how he hadn’t given me a response then, or even turned to look back at me, but now I had cruel insight as the roles were reversed.

If I said anything or so much as looked at him, I’d break down completely. The only way to survive was to get the hell out of the room.

So, I did.