Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Because what girl in her right mind would agree to this?” I said bitterly.
And then I was suddenly in his arms, his hot mouth fused to mine. He wasn’t holding anything back this time. His kiss was desperate and full of passion, and it stole all the air from my lungs.
“I’ll make it fast,” he murmured as he peppered more kisses to me. “It won’t count. We’ll do it for real when it’s just you and me. The real us. That will be our first time.”
I found it oddly comforting to think of it that way. I wasn’t losing my virginity while a bunch of other men watched—the fake version of myself would be.
“I need to know why it’s like this,” I said.
“I’ll tell you, but there’s something else.” He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to mine. Since I was fitted tight against him, I could feel how fast his heart was pumping. “Each board member is going to—”
The sharp, jarring sound of knuckles banging on wood made us jolt. Someone was knocking on the door.
Royce’s thumbs brushed over my cheeks, hurriedly wiping away smudged mascara. “It’s going to be okay, no matter what. I’m right here. Close your eyes, and it will be just us.”
If his goal was to soothe me, it had the opposite effect. It sent my stomach plummeting to my toes. When the door behind us opened, Royce separated from me. The boy who’d been kissing me seconds ago faded into the hard, selfish persona like a reverse cocoon. He turned his cold focus to the men sweeping into the dark room.
It was a parade of tuxedos and faces I recognized, but also ones who caused a cold sweat to break out and cling to my skin. They filed in without a word, moving like it had been practiced. Four men to the left, three men to the right.
Macalister was the last to step through the doorway, and when he pulled closed the heavy door, the click of the lock reverberated through my body. There were nine sets of eyes looking at me, but Macalister’s glacial ones were the hardest to bear. My dress hid my shaking knees, but there was nothing to be done about my upper body. The dress was strapless, and he could see my trembling shoulders from where he stood.
In his refined tuxedo, he could have been a gorgeous advertisement for expensive watches or high-end liquor. But the one that fit best in my mind right now was he looked like a spy movie villain. The mastermind billionaire who could be charming, or sexy, or cruel depending on the scene.
His gaze worked over my dress, and satisfaction sizzled in his expression.
“I wasn’t finished explaining it to her,” Royce said. Irritation had him jamming his hands in his pockets. Had he done it to stop himself from balling them into fists?
Macalister’s attention slid momentarily to his son as he waved the comment off. “It’s fine. I’ll handle the rest.” He refocused on me. “Good evening, Marist. You look exquisite. Doesn’t she, gentlemen?”
There were nods and sounds of approval from the pack. As their leader approached, my pulse skyrocketed and roared at breakneck speed. To anyone else, his smile would appear benign, but it only set me more on edge.
I stood still as he sauntered a slow circle around me, inspecting my body like an expensive cut of meat.
“You can stop this and leave at any time.” His tone was firm. “It’s important you know that. You can choose not to go further or change your mind at any point. No one is making you stay.” He finished his circuit, stopping in front of me. “The decision is yours. So, tell me—who is in control?”
My throat threatened to close up, but I squeaked it out just in time. “I am.”
He was pleased I gave the answer he was looking for. “Exactly.”
His hand dipped into his tuxedo jacket, and a pen was extracted from his interior pocket. It was held out to me. I stared at it, unsure of what it meant. But it became clear when one of the board members placed a leather portfolio on the dining table.
“It’s not a contract,” Macalister said. “It’s a release, simply stating you’re here of your own volition.”
They wanted my consent in writing.
When my gaze flicked to Royce, Macalister took a step closer, pulling my focus back to look at him. “We’ll all be signing it.”
The black pen was trimmed in gold, and it glinted in the candlelight. When I took it, my fingers brushed his and gave me an unwelcomed sting of electricity. The room was charged with violent, sexual energy.
The black portfolio had been set on the table beside the giftbox and our forgotten glasses of champagne, and when I moved toward it, Royce attempted to clear them away. I grabbed my glass from him and took a huge gulp, watching him put the rest on the side table.