The Redemption (Filthy Rich Americans 4)

Macalister wore a black suit and a silver tie, and the refined elegance that rolled off him was so strong, it was overpowering. If I were tougher, I would have kept going and moved past him, but my feet refused to work.

His blue eyes started at my lips, and his gaze slowly worked its way down, sliding over me like a hot knife through butter. I wanted to melt at how sexual it was, especially out here in the open in front of my date, but instead I focused on the full glass of champagne he carried.

When he was done feasting on me, his attention shifted to Ian, and his expression went cold. He said it politely, but I imagined it was the same tone he’d use if he told someone to fuck off. “Excuse us.”

Ian shot me a look that announced I was on my own. “I’ll catch up with you at the table.”

I narrowed my eyes at his quick exit then turned my attention back to the man I both loved and hated. I jabbed a finger at his glass of champagne. “What are you doing with that?”

“Someone once told me I look better with it.”

And, oh, how he did. It completed his look as a powerful, sexy billionaire.

“What are you doing with that boy?” His mouth twisted into a slight smile. “He’s so extra.”

I pressed my lips together to stop the smile. He didn’t deserve one. “He’s my date.”

“Hm,” he dismissed. “I like that dress.” His eyes were inescapable gravity. “Did you wear it for me?”

My pulse tumbled, speeding up. “No,” I lied.

He didn’t believe me.

“What do you want?” I snapped.

“Since you’ve refused communication, first I’d like to know how you’re feeling.”

I darted my gaze away, not wanting to see the concern in his eyes. “I’m getting better.”

Although there were people talking and laughing around us, and music playing in the background, when his voice went low, it was all I heard. “Does it still hurt?”

When I think of you, it does. It hurts everywhere.

“Only when I move a certain way or take really deep breaths.” I’d gone through a strange spike in pain last week, but my doctor said that was common. Peak pain, he’d called it. I tried to look bored as I peered up at him. “Anything else?”

“Yes. I’d like to make a wager with you.”

My stupid heart stumbled a second time, but my mind was smarter. “No.”

His eyebrow went up and his jaw clenched, and all the moisture in my body rushed to the center of my legs. He both loved and hated hearing that word from me, and his expression went stern. “You quit without warning, which was incredibly unprofessional, so you will at least listen to my offer. You owe me that.”

I swallowed hard. “Fine. What is it?”

“If I get him to announce to this crowd, by the end of the night, that he’s your father, you’ll leave with me.”

The sound in the room dropped out, and it became just Macalister and me.

“You don’t want that,” I whispered. “And it’s impossible. He’ll never do it.”

“Accept my wager and find out,” he challenged.

I shifted my weight and took a sip of my martini, considering his angle. “What would I get if I win?”

He tilted his head. “Anything you want.”

Anything? It stole my breath. But he didn’t mean anything; he only meant things that were tangible. I scoured my mind for something he wouldn’t like. “I want a job.”

“That’s it?” He looked disappointed with my lack of creativity. “I’ve already spoken to the media director about bringing you onboard.”

That was surprising, but I downplayed it and gave a wicked smile. “No, you misunderstand. I want a job somewhere else—anyplace other than HBHC. You’ll reach out to that vast network you have and recommend me, telling them you wished you could keep me but you’re too difficult to work with, and that’s why I left.”

Fire burned in his eyes so hot, they turned black, and I was giddy with excitement. I had to pinch my knees together to hold in my pleasure. His fingers on the champagne flute were white from how hard he clenched it, and I wondered if it might break under his force.

But layer by layer, he calmed and composed himself. His chin lifted, and then he squeezed out a tight smile. “All right. Do we have a deal?”

He played to win, so I knew he had this rigged somehow, but I also played to win. It’d be hard for him to get Damon to confess if I marched over to him right now and declared it for everyone to hear, rendering the whole thing moot.

My tone was overly bright. “Deal.”

Macalister extended his hand, and my confidence flagged a little when I realized I was going to have to touch him. I put my hand in his, and the moment we made contact, sparks burst all over my body. My lips parted to draw in a deep breath, and the dull ache banded across my ribs.