I drew in a deliberate, calming breath. “Even if that’s true, it’d be foolish to try it again. I still control the largest stake in HBHC, and as I’m no longer on the board, I have more time to pursue my interests.” My gaze drilled down into her, and she wilted beneath it. “You do not want to become my focus, Ms. Alby.”
“No, I don’t,” she said.
It rankled that I couldn’t do anything about what she’d done. There was no punishment or retaliation I could dole out. It was likely she’d been a pawn in Marist’s game, anyway, and I should direct my anger there. Not that I could. My daughter-in-law had done whatever she could to outplay me, and I respected that. We Hales understood it was win at all costs.
My tone was measured and even. “If you’re half as smart as you think you are, then you know I’ll come after you with my considerable resources if you meddle in my family’s business again.”
Ms. Alby’s throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. “I get it. I just wanted you to understand what I’m capable of. What I can bring to the table.”
I clenched my fists tightly then let the tension release, using the action to disperse emotion. “I’ve heard your proposal.” I straightened in my seat and spoke with finality. “And I decline.”
Her lips parted in surprise. This was not the answer she wanted, and without it, she looked lost. Until this moment, she’d been so sure of herself, and when her confidence flagged, it exposed her raw innocence beneath. Her father wasn’t an attractive man, but luckily, Sophia Alby had always favored her mother and now surpassed her. The uncertainty in the girl’s eyes made her look younger, and vulnerable, and the man I’d been before would have exploited it in every way possible.
Instead, I forced myself to ignore her stunned look and glance down at my Cartier watch, which had been an anniversary gift from my first wife. “How much longer does your father intend to keep me waiting?”
“He doesn’t know you’re here yet,” she said softly. “He thinks he’s meeting you at twelve-thirty.”
“Excuse me?” I’d set this lunch appointment at noon to maximize visibility to the rest of Boston’s elite and remind them I still existed.
She pushed back from the table and stood, and I was already halfway out of my seat before I recognized habit had forced me to give her this courtesy I wouldn’t have otherwise. At least it allowed me to use my height to my advantage. I towered over her, and it drew her gaze up.
“My father will be early for a meeting with you, so I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.” She licked her lips nervously. “You’ll change your mind, Mr. Hale. You’ll find I . . .” She tilted her head and gave in to a shrug. “Well, I tend to get my way. Like when I asked my father’s assistant to push his schedule thirty minutes. Or when the maître d’ sat me at your table when I didn’t have an invitation.”
Her words hadn’t finished settling on me before she pulled a card from her purse and dropped it on the table.
Brightness lit her eyes, and her mouth widened into a soft, disarming smile. “My phone number and email, for when you’re ready.” She turned to leave without a farewell.
Competing thoughts warred in my mind as she departed, but when my gaze latched on to the bare sliver of her back, everything else faded. The dress she wore was professional and demure from the front, but like her, it held back a secret from me. I couldn’t stop myself from admiring the strip of pale skin and the long line her spine carved down the center of her body.
It was like sculpture. Flawless. Beautiful.
For one long moment, I wanted her.
More than three years spent lusting after Marist, despite every attempt not to, so to suddenly feel a tinge of interest for someone else . . .
The power of it made me brace a hand on the back of my chair and grip it so ferociously, I expected it to splinter beneath my grasp. This reaction was inappropriate and unacceptable. The spell Marist held over me was broken, but I wasn’t recovered. I was merely a man weakened by starvation, eager for any morsel of food, even if it was to my detriment.
She was just the first woman to genuinely smile at me in years. That was all this was.
Sophia Alby wasn’t anything special.
Yes, she’d sat across from me and tried to hold her own when few people in this world had, but she’d failed to get what she’d wanted from me, hadn’t she? I could respect how she tried, but not her failure.
My gaze drifted down to the card on the table and her neatly printed information in black ink.
Had she failed?
Perhaps this had been her opening salvo, a kickstart to negotiations.
I snatched up the card and tucked it into the interior pocket of my Brioni suit coat, intrigued at the concept this could be a game. If so, I’d change the rules to ensure we were playing on my terms and not hers. I’d make it so my win was inevitable.
And I would learn every secret she was hiding.
As my driver pulled up to the house, a strange sensation of wastefulness settled on me. The Hale estate had been in my family for more than a century, and each generation had put its mark on it, adding to the sprawling grounds. My grandfather’s addition was the stables, and my mother’s had been the hedge maze.
I’d been so involved in my work, I hadn’t done much to improve the family home yet. Currently, the only legacy to my credit was that I’d likely be the last Hale to live here. I’d driven everyone else away.
Twenty thousand feet of living space were mine, and mine alone.
Which I despised. My son was supposed to raise his children here, but Royce didn’t trust me within a hundred yards of his wife. My youngest son, Vance, had moved out late last year, claiming the commute to Boston was eating into too much of his time. He was in his final year at Harvard Law, and although that was demanding, I suspected my impending return had been a factor.
I exited the car and stood on the marble steps, gazing up at the dark windows of the impressive house. For the last two years, I’d wished for nothing more than to be alone. Now the vast freedom and emptiness were unsettling.
It was cold in the entryway, but that was the way I preferred it. Sleep never came easily for me, which meant exhaustion could strike without warning, and I’d found it easier to fight it off if I wasn’t comfortable.
The cold kept me alert and sharp.
There was no staff to greet me at the door, which I also preferred. A man unwilling to hang his own coat was either lazy or inefficient, or both.
It was late afternoon, and the springtime shadows were long across the inlaid hardwood floor. I climbed the grand staircase that branched halfway up in two different directions. A portrait hung there once at the split, but Alice’s actions had torn apart our family beyond repair, so I’d done the same to the painting.
The bare space bothered me, but I wasn’t sure what to replace it with, and apparently Royce hadn’t any ideas either during the time I was away. I reached the landing when a woman appeared at the top of the steps and gave a sharp noise of surprise.
“Macalister,” she said.
It was infuriating the way my pulse beat erratically at the sight of her, even with her ridiculous black-green hair.
My body began to heat, but my voice stayed cold. “Marist,” I answered.