My heart launched into my throat, clogging my airway until it was nearly impossible to breathe. The mood in the room sank faster than a company’s stock after reporting a huge loss. Alice and Vance tensed.
But Royce’s chest puffed up, and he took on a dark cast. “Anything that has to do with Marist is my business.”
Macalister gave his son a look that screamed, is that so? In his mind, Royce had sold those rights away. The oldest Hale laced his fingers together on the tabletop, and as he sat in the ornate chair at the head of the table, he resembled a king on a throne. One who looked very much like he wanted to put the prince back in his place.
“We have an agreement,” Macalister said. “I promised to keep her updated on her family’s financial situation.” His piercing eyes curved back to me. “I don’t see a need for Royce to be included on that. Do you?”
Beneath the table, Royce’s hand latched onto my thigh, just above my knee. His warm palm tingled against the bare skin of my leg, but I tried not to notice. The action might have seemed affection to anyone else, but this was a warning. He was saying it was dangerous, telling me to be careful.
I understood what was happening and how I was playing directly into Macalister’s hand. And while I didn’t want to be alone with him, his offer was too good to pass up. Royce withheld information from me, and tonight I would do the same.
I pushed his hand off my knee as I looked at his father. “No,” I said firmly. “I don’t see a reason either.”
The pleased smile on Macalister’s face twisted my insides.
Tension rolled off Royce throughout dinner and permeated the room. Not that it would have been an enjoyable meal otherwise. Once the main course had been served, I realized these weekly dinners were merely business meetings for Macalister to preside over and ensure all his family members were carrying out the directions he gave.
As soon as we were dismissed, my fiancé turned in his seat and put a hand on the back of my chair. His voice was low and urgent. “Don’t be alone with him.”
I sucked in a breath. “Why? What are you worried is going to happen?”
Royce’s eyes darted away. “He’s manipulative.”
I did my best to hold in an incredulous laugh. “Oh, I see. Your worry isn’t about me . . . it’s what he might say about you.”
His gaze snapped back to me. “Let me come with you.”
He didn’t bother to deny my accusation. My spine hardened, either with pride or vindictiveness or both, and I pushed back from the table. “No.”
He followed me up, and his voice edged toward frustration. “Marist, please—”
“This is your own doing. You keep me out of your business, so I’m allowed to do the same.”
He frowned and desperation ringed his eyes, but I refused to waver. I couldn’t rely on Royce to save me. I’d have to do it myself.
As I marched out of the dining room, he fell into step at my side, not arguing or attempting to slow me down. We both knew his father was waiting for me.
It was fitting the library was on the second floor. We climbed the stairs and ascended toward Mount Olympus while I, the mortal, mentally prepared as best I could for my audience with the god Zeus.
FOUR
MACALISTER WASN’T SEATED BEHIND THE DESK like I’d expected. He stood with his broad back to me and appeared to be cataloguing the books on the shelf. While he was already a tall man, the walls lined with bookcases somehow exaggerated his height.
As if he needed any help looking imposing.
The library was warm colors. It had an old-world feel and a relaxed ease, but in his perfect black suit and tie, he looked out of place. At my entrance, he turned just enough to glance at me over his shoulder. “Shut the door.” I did as asked, my breath tight in my lungs. He gestured to a chair. “Have a seat.”
I lowered into one cautiously, my gaze never straying from him. I had the irrational fear that if I took my eyes off him for a single second, he’d use that moment to strike. It was a ridiculous thought. Macalister wouldn’t come at me physically. His attack would be subtle. He’d use precise, surgical words rather than his hands to undo me.
He didn’t sit behind the desk. Instead, he took the seat beside me, causing more alert to spike through my body. Perhaps he’d done it to dispel the power dynamic and try to treat me as an equal, but I highly doubted it. More likely, his goal had been to remove the barrier that stood between us yesterday.
He lifted a sheet of paper off the desk and passed it to me. “The situation with your family is more dire than we anticipated. This is a summary of their debt.”
I stared at the figures.
Disbelief slapped me across the face. My heart quickened until it beat so fast, blood roared in my ears. This couldn’t be right. I tried to read the page through the tears blurring my vision, but then it abruptly became easier. Anger flared and burned the tears up before they could fall.
Five million dollars had been deposited into their account, and it had only made a dent. I’d whored myself out for that money, and it wasn’t even enough.
My teeth ground together so hard, my jaw threatened to crack. I tossed the summary report bitterly onto the desk, not wanting to look at the figures another second, wishing I could make them go away just as easily for my parents.
Macalister noted my reaction before speaking. “You’re understandably upset. I was too when this was brought to my attention. They’ve been treading water, hoping for a lifeline to come save them. There was no other plan.” His tone was as dark as the black ink he used in his signature. “And that infuriates me.”
I’d always thought of anger as a blazing emotion, full of fire and urgency. But in Macalister Hale, anger was cloaked in ice. It was an arctic slide into freezing water, where relentless pins-and-needles slowly trapped and consumed everything.
“I had no idea,” I said quietly. “If I had—”
His eyes widened with surprise. “You misunderstand. I’m not accusing you. They shamefully kept this from you and your sister.” He set an elbow on the armrest closest to me, and his silver cufflink glinted. “It doesn’t change the situation, however. If something were to happen to your parents, their estate would be insolvent. You and Emily would have to liquidate the house, which wouldn’t be enough. You’d be left with nothing except the considerable credit card debt you co-signed with your parents.”
An invisible hand reached inside my body, and its furious fingers curled around my heart, squeezing to the point of pain. I set my palm flat against my chest. “I should have asked questions.”
“Yes, you should have.” His expression was plain, but not cruel. “A painful lesson learned.”
His gaze wandered over my face, not so much studying it, but tracing each line and curve. He examined me like a financial report he couldn’t get to balance. Frustrated and curious, and also intrigued. I dropped my gaze to my knees peeking out below my dress.
“I’ve set up an account in your name,” he said, “with enough money to cover your tuition for your final year at Etonsons, along with general expenses. Any single purchase above five thousand will require my approval, but you will have anything you need.”