Beneath all the shock, I finally found my voice, although it was a broken whisper. “Royce.”
I didn’t understand what he was doing. If his life’s goal was to wrest control away from his father, he’d need every dollar he had, plus considerable help from outside investors. He’d secured that, it’d seemed, given his dramatic attitude shift today.
So, what the fuck?
Was he willing to risk everything he’d ever wanted . . . for me?
There was a tightness in my chest. A pain I couldn’t pinpoint as another thought took hold.
Royce Hale was a liar. It was possible everything he’d just said wasn’t true. A bluff. Maybe there wasn’t enough in his accounts. What if he’d asked for an enormous loan to give him the chance to undo his mistake?
I stared at him as he awaited his father’s answer, his hands balled into angry fists and his posture screaming he wanted a fight.
Macalister was the opposite. Calm, indifferent. “No.”
The word hit me like a rock to the head, and I stumbled backward. “What do you mean, no?”
The older Hale watched me curiously as I wobbled on my feet, barely able to stand. He had so much money, maybe he didn’t care to have more, but fifty million? And moreover, it wasn’t about that. Royce’s huge offer came loaded with power. His father would always be able to lord over his son what a terrible transaction Royce had made, buying me back at five times the price he’d sold me for.
“I’m not interested in Royce’s offer.” Macalister stood there in his black suit and red tie, looking so fucking comfortable you’d never believe what he’d just turned down. “However, I have an offer for Marist.”
My stomach clenched. “What?”
“A new game.”
“No.” There wasn’t any hesitation from me.
He scowled. “You’ll listen to me first before making your decision.” His gaze flicked to Royce. “Be aware this negotiation is with her and her alone. If you can’t control yourself, you can’t stay.” When he was satisfied Royce understood, his focus returned to me. “If you win, I’ll step aside. You can be with Royce in whatever capacity you want. You’ll have your car. If you wish, you can return to your parents’ home until the wedding. You’ll be allowed to make your own decisions, even if they’re the wrong ones.”
My mouth dropped open.
He was offering freedom. Total freedom from him and his control. It was too tempting to ignore, but such a great prize would come at a terrible risk. “And if you win?”
He was pleased I’d asked, rather than reject him again. But his pause was so long, I could tell a direct answer wasn’t forthcoming.
“Do you want to know which of the myths is my favorite? The story of the Minotaur.” He lifted a hand, gesturing to our surroundings. “Fitting, given where we are, don’t you think?”
The Minotaur was a monstrous half-man, half-bull creature who’d lived in the center of the complicated Labyrinth.
“There are different versions of the myth,” he said. “Some say it’s seven men and seven women every seven years, and others say nine, but the rest is the same. They’re sent into the Labyrinth and try to escape before the Minotaur catches them.” The wind blew through the channels of the maze, swirling around us, but didn’t affect him. Like it hadn’t been given his permission. His expression was too focused, too intense. “Tonight, I’ll be the Minotaur. If you can escape the maze before I catch you, you win.”
My breath came and went in short bursts. I was wise enough to know it couldn’t be that simple. I had to think two moves ahead. “You didn’t answer my question. What happens if you win?”
Wickedness played across his attractive face, accentuating his high, elegant cheekbones. “Then I get the same prize as the Minotaur.”
Words choked in my throat, refusing to come out, and my cheeks burned hot like I’d carelessly fallen asleep in the sun.
Royce asked it, although I suspected from his urgent tone he already knew the answer. “What happens when he catches someone?”
Macalister looked at me expectantly. He wanted me to say it out loud.
My voice was hollow. “He eats them.”
Royce’s eyes widened and his face turned an ugly shade of red. “No.”
“Be quiet.”
Macalister’s sharp voice might have silenced his son, but it had no effect on the loud voices in my brain. Royce had told me his father didn’t play a game unless he thought he was going to win. Macalister was taller than I was, which meant he had a longer stride. On the nights he couldn’t sleep, he ran on the treadmill. In a footrace, he’d beat me easily. And he believed I didn’t know the path out, at least not that well.
Even with all of that, it still didn’t seem like a guaranteed win for him.
“That’s it?” I spat the question out. “All I have to do is make it out of the maze before you catch me?”
Once again, a pleased look flashed through his expression. He understood I saw through his offer and needed to know the catch. “Before we start, I’ll be allowed to disorient you however I see fit.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Disorient me?”
My stomach became an arctic crevasse as his fingers went to the knot of his tie and worked it loose. The silk was the color of blood, and he unthreaded it painstakingly slow from his collar, coiling it over his hand.
“I’ll cover your eyes and turn you around. I’ll do things to make you lose your bearings.” With the tie gone, he undid the top button of his shirt, and an arrogant smile crept onto his face. “The game isn’t worth playing if I don’t have a fair chance to win.”
That definitely made it harder on me, but I’d spent so many afternoons memorizing every twist and turn, each statue decorating the dead ends, that I knew this maze. I could conquer it blindfolded.
And Macalister had no idea.
The risk was great, but the promise of freedom was so tantalizing . . . was it crazy to consider playing? I turned and glanced at Royce, who glared at his father with such contempt, it was breathtaking.
I swallowed down my nerves, pushed a wayward lock of hair out of my face, and prepared to negotiate. “I’m not saying yes, but if I were, I’d need a thirty-second head start.”
Macalister’s lips curled up into something too insidious to be called a smile. “Ten.”
The shift in Royce happened faster than a clap of thunder, and his desperate plea tore me in two. “Marist, don’t.”
The anger that radiated from Macalister was so hot, it invaded my senses with smoke. My mouth filled with ash. He glared back at his son. “If she doesn’t, I’ll strip you of your seat.”
Oh, God.
Two months ago, I’d stood in the rain in this hedge maze and told Royce I was going to destroy his life the way he’d done to me, and now I could execute that plan with terrible accuracy. He’d sold me out, and Macalister just presented me with the opportunity to do the same.
If I didn’t play his father’s ridiculous game, Royce would lose everything. The loss of his board seat had the same effect as castling in chess. It’d throw all the plans he’d spent his life building up to into chaos.