My mouth went dry, and my heart banged violently inside my chest. Was he jealous? Of mediocre Richard Shaunessy?
“You don’t speak with that boy ever again,” he decreed.
Maybe I was reading too much into it. Alice had cheated on Macalister with Richard’s dad, so perhaps Macalister was upset about ‘who’ he thought I’d been flirting with, and not that I’d been supposedly flirting at all.
I was still worked up from my encounter, and although the two men had barely anything in common, I was once again facing an arrogant, entitled guy at the pinnacle of privilege, one who believed everything in the world belonged to him.
He’d given me an order I’d be happy to follow, but I pushed back. “You don’t own me.”
Whoa. I’d never seen Macalister’s eyebrow arch so high.
His cold fingers latched on to my arm, just above the elbow, letting me feel his dominance, and I went weak at his touch. He saw it all, how I softened and swallowed a deep breath, melting beneath his hand.
You don’t own me, I’d told him.
“Oh, yes, I fucking do,” he growled.
TWENTY
SOPHIA
POWER CASCADED OFF MACALISTER in waves so rough, they crashed over me and nearly knocked me down.
“Let me prove it to you,” he said. “Come with me.”
He let go of my elbow, but the faint burn of cold still kissed the spot, like snow trapped against skin by a sleeve. I followed him submissively as he turned around and stalked back into the party, quickly locating the theatre director and interrupting the man mid-conversation.
“My assistant would like to see the costume room,” he declared.
The man hesitated. “Of course. We can set up a tour tomorrow morning before rehearsals.”
Macalister said nothing, his expression fixed in stone.
Realization dawned on the director, and his voice was full of apprehension. “You mean now?” He glanced away, considering what to do. Macalister had donated nearly a quarter of a million dollars, and if the director refused him, that would likely never happen again. A tight smile was squeezed out. “I’ll take you myself. This way.”
We followed the man, who Macalister clearly made nervous, to the back of the theatre then up two ancient flights of stairs, climbing high into the attic. He fumbled with the knob on the old door, pushed it open, and flipped on the lights.
The room was essentially a warehouse. Long industrial bulbs hung sparsely from the exposed ceiling, lighting the green linoleum flooring below. There were rows of clothing racks, each garment hanging inside a clear zippered bag with a picture of an actor in costume tacked to the front.
“Thank you,” Macalister said. “We will find our own way back.”
Dismay visibly went through the man. He did not want to leave us alone in here, probably assuming we’d planned to play dress-up and potentially damage the expensive costumes. But he didn’t want to piss off such a powerful donor either.
“She only wants to look,” Macalister said casually. “You have my word we won’t touch anything.”
The man’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh.” He brightened and turned his focus to me. “Would you like me to pull any particular pieces?”
“No,” Macalister answered. “Sophia and I also have business to discuss, which needs to be done privately.” His sharp look politely announced, ‘fuck off.’ “Please don’t let us keep you from your patrons.”
The man hesitated a moment longer then decided it was beyond his control. “If you could turn off the lights and shut the door when you’re done, I’d appreciate it.”
Macalister gave a dismissive nod. “Of course.”
The director left us at the threshold of the door, and the creak of his footsteps on the stairs gradually diminished until it couldn’t be heard anymore.
Macalister’s head turned to the room, wordlessly commanding me to go inside, and I carried out his order immediately. He stepped in after me, pulling the door closed with a soft thud, and the tension between us drew taut.
“How did you know about this place?” I asked.
“He gave me a tour before I wrote the check.”
We were utterly alone in this room full of costumes. Slips of clothes that allowed people to become a completely different person, and as I stared at him, standing in the shadows between two tall racks, I wanted to be someone else.
I wanted to be the woman he’d fall in love with and break the curse.
In this seclusion, Macalister was safe to look at me however he wanted, and my heart pounded like fists against the side of a cage trying to break free. He was its captor, and he knew it.
He stated it like it was an unarguable law. “I own you.”
It was the truth, but it was hard to surrender. I’d given him everything else. Shouldn’t I hold on to this last thing and use it to bargain for his heart? I dug deep inside myself, gathering all the strength I had not to give in, and lifted my chin in defiance.
I couldn’t say the word, but I hoped my expression told him no.
Rather than look irritated or frustrated, a slow, pleased smile crawled along his lips. I’d challenged him as best I could, and he was excited I’d given him the opportunity to prove me wrong.
It was sexy and terrifying when he charged toward me, and I turned and fled, running as fast as I could in my heels and dress through the maze of towering racks of clothes. It would only be a matter of time before he caught me, and I ran with no intention of escaping, anyway. At the end of the row, I turned blindly to my right and dashed past shelves full of shoes and hats in plastic bins.
At the edge of the room, the wall was lined with cabinets, a seamstress station, and a bare dress form. There was a large mirror, and I caught a glimpse of myself running, my soft pink dress billowing around my legs, and Macalister behind me.
He probably could have caught me sooner, but either he was enjoying the chase too much or was waiting to pounce until he had me exactly where he wanted. He grasped me by the elbow and jerked me to a stop, spinning me around so I crashed into his chest, and I let out a grunt of surprise.
I’d worn my hair up at his request, and so the back of my neck was bare, and his palm slid up to hold me there, steadying me as he dropped his mouth to mine. His untamed kiss brought on delirium. It buzzed through my core, radiating outward.
But he abruptly tore his lips away, like a possessive child throwing a fit and taking their toys back. “Say it.”
Possession was nine tenths of the law, and I felt utterly possessed. “I’m yours.”
His eyes widened. It wasn’t clear exactly how he’d wanted me to say it, if I was supposed to repeat it word for word, but I’d gone with the full truth.
He had one arm along my back and the other wrapped on my waist, and as soon as my words registered, I was lifted into his arms, just enough so my feet no longer touched the floor. I was carried to the empty wall that had been partitioned out in sections, this one for long garments, and he jammed me in the corner, ducking his head slightly so not to hit the hangar bar.
I was set down on my feet, my back wedged between the wall and the wooden partition, and his mouth was hot on my neck. His breathing came and went in a rush, but I wasn’t sure whether carrying me had caused it, or if it was how I’d surrendered.