The Redemption (Filthy Rich Americans 4)

I lifted my lips until they brushed over the shell of her ear. “I know the other name.”

She didn’t believe me, and her smile tinted her voice. “Do you?”

“Yes.” I drew back enough so I could gauge her reaction. “Duncan Lynch.”

Like the first of the lanterns in the sky, the warmth of her flickered out and went cold, her expression turning hard and distant. “No.”

When I’d landed on the name, I’d expected she’d either reluctantly admit it or adamantly deny it to overcompensate, but . . . what was this? She shut down and stepped back out of my arms, eyeing me like she’d drawn a line in the sand and I’d just put one foot across it.

It left me with no choice but to surge forward with my assumption. “Why? What did he do?”

Bitterness stained her eyes. “Duncan? He didn’t do anything.” She said it like perhaps he should have, though.

Sophia had backed away from me, and I didn’t like her retreat. I grasped her waist and blocked her from putting space between us. On some level, I knew it was unreasonable to be demanding answers from her, especially after all she’d done tonight, but I was impatient and frustrated I couldn’t have her in any of the ways I wanted.

“Does Duncan’s secret have something to do with drugs?” I guessed.

She shook her head in anger and spat the words like bullets. “I said it’s not Duncan.”

“Then, tell me.” My order was curt, and Sophia cracked under the weight of it.

It was one thing to see her intimidated. The twisted part of me enjoyed when people cowered in fear, but when her beautiful face flooded with panic, it poured the same emotion into my stomach. Her eyes went glassy and wet, and she blinked rapidly to keep back the sudden tears.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “We can’t have this conversation right now. We don’t have the time, and I can’t. I don’t have the strength needed to tell it to you tonight.” Her long lashes fluttered as a single tear escaped, but it was quickly wiped away. “Please, Macalister,” she pleaded. “Don’t ruin this night.”

But I’d destroyed the magic between us, and I was certain I already had, so I stayed silent.

Her gaze moved away from me, and she sucked in a calming breath. “We need to get back before anyone notices we’re missing.”

I didn’t want to leave things so undone with her, but she had a point.

Reluctantly, we returned to the narrow hedges, and the walk back through the maze was slower, my feet heavier to move. The awkwardness I’d created between us flooded down the passageways, choking my breath, and I despised the sensation.

My eyebrows pulled together before we made the final turn that would make us visible to the rest of the world and lead us out past the walls of evergreen. “It’s my nature to push,” I said quietly. “I am relentless with myself, and it often affects the way I treat other people.”

Her face contorted, not understanding what I was trying to say.

I let out a breath. “I’m sorry. Usually, I am a patient man, but you . . . disrupt me.”

It was as if I’d just confessed I hated money. Sophia turned to stone at my admission. “Was that an apology?”

Discomfort settled in my chest. “It was. Did I not do it properly?”

“No, it’s—I didn’t think you apologized very often.”

My unease faded, and I lifted the corner of my mouth in a pleased smile. “I don’t.” She understood it was difficult for me to admit a mistake and appreciated that I’d been willing to do so. My apology was sincere.

“Thank you,” she answered.

It cleared enough of the tension suspended between us, and we pressed forward, emerging from the entrance of the maze undetected by the partygoers. Although it didn’t last long. We’d put a professional amount of space between us before Damon signaled to me and began to make his approach. He was grinning ear to ear with a million-dollar smile.

“Macalister, wow.” He held out his hand, and I took it, letting him give me a hearty shake. “Thank you. This whole evening has been incredible, and I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you.”

“All I ask is that you win in November.” I tried to match his smile, so he’d interpret the statement as friendly, even though I was dead serious. “As for your gratitude, I can’t take the credit.” I turned and tossed a hand toward the beautiful woman standing to my left. “It’s Sophia’s. She suggested the event to me and planned the entire evening.”

In the past, I wouldn’t have said such a thing. As CEO, I was responsible for my subordinates’ failures whether I was directly involved or not, so this meant I was allowed to take credit for their successes as well.