Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Macalister wasn’t finished. “For her upcoming union with my son and uniting our families together as the mother of my children had always hoped for.” He cast his inescapable gaze on me. “You’ve brought me great happiness by coming into our lives.”
I nearly heaved the contents of my dinner all over my dessert, but Royce’s hand found mine and held me together. His tone was casual, ignoring the bomb his father had just detonated, or how the fallout was currently washing over his stepmother. Color drained from her face and emptied into her neck, turning it a violent pink.
“I’m also thankful for Marist,” my fiancé said.
He lifted our joined hands out from under the table and kissed my knuckles, his eyes twinkling. It was a silent message telling me not to let them get to me. To do as he did when others were around. Play a role.
I peeled my lips back in an uneven smile, digging deep inside myself to find the Instagram version and not the Medusa one who wanted to destroy her enemies. “I, uh . . . am thankful for Royce, especially everything he’s done for Emily.”
Royce’s smile hung strangely, but I blinked, and it vanished. Or maybe I’d imagined it. Macalister looked at me curiously for a moment too, but then retreated into his normal, cold veneer.
I meant it, though. Being alone on Thanksgiving had to be hard, and Royce had done everything he could to help my sister. For a man who pretended he didn’t care about anything, his actions sure said otherwise.
My parents must have felt obligated since everyone else had participated, and both ended up saying they were thankful for being invited and that Royce and I had found each other. The strange thing was, my mother had sounded genuine.
The words had barely left her lips before Alice pushed back from the table and excused herself.
“I hope she’s feeling all right,” my mother said. “She looked pale.”
Macalister’s tone had a note of finality to it that I doubt my mother picked up on. “She will be fine.”
With Alice gone, it made the rest of the dinner tolerable—as long as I avoided Macalister. I felt his gaze boring into me, though, and I clenched my teeth. He was shameless, not bothering to be discreet. He was Zeus again, the king of the gods, and he was above reproach. He’d do whatever the fuck he wanted.
People were still pushing pie crust crumbs around on their plates and talking politics when I excused myself to the washroom. After I’d finished washing my hands, I rested them on the sink and stared at my reflection in the mirror.
My dark brown hair hung straight, halfway down to my elbows. I’d spent a long time blowing it out this morning, and even more time on my makeup the way Alice’s makeup artists had shown me. I looked picture perfect in my black dotted Yves Saint Laurent dress.
But I barely recognized myself. There was a hard coldness creeping in at the edge of my eyes. The Hale influence, no doubt. The only good thing was the glow. I didn’t love the style that had been forced on me, but being in love? That suited me.
I fluffed my dried hands through my hair, grabbed the doorknob, and pulled . . . only for Macalister to push his way inside and shut the door, closing us in together. His expression was all darkness and aggression.
I lowered my voice to an angry whisper. “What the hell do you—”
That was all I got out before one of his hands grabbed my waist and the other covered my mouth, pushing me roughly back against the wall.
EIGHT
I SUCKED IN A SHARP BREATH through my nose, and my gaze darted frantically around the small half-bath. I’d look anywhere but at the man who loomed over me. His palm was a muzzle of ice against my lips.
“You won’t speak another word until I’m finished, Marist.” His tone was absolute, and so dangerous it felt like I was standing on a tightrope over sharpened spikes. “Do you understand me?”
I gave a slow nod, making his hand on my face move along with my head. Either he didn’t trust me, or he liked the control, because he left his hand right where it was.
“Tonight was unacceptable, but I’m not going to apologize for her. You will let her do that herself.”
I tried to mumble a no, but when the word hit his palm, his fingers clamped down, preventing it from escaping, and heat flared in his frigid eyes.
“You need to be sensible about this. Alice is a part of this family, one you cannot avoid forever, and I won’t stand another evening like the one we just had.”
When I shifted my weight, trying to squirm away, he moved in and used the full breadth of his body to block me. Alarm stiffened through my muscles, but it seemed to soften his. His fingers loosened, and his palm slipped down until it gently ringed my throat. It meant he felt the enormously hard swallow I made.