The Redemption (Filthy Rich Americans 4)

Because he was in love with me, and because it was win at all costs.

“You once told me you usually get what you want,” he said. “So, if you want me, I’m yours.” He held my gaze for a final moment, before turning his attention back to the audience. “Thank you.”

He turned the microphone off and strode toward the stairs at the end of the stage.

Murmurs at the tables built quickly to shocked conversations that filled the ballroom. Some people stood and prepared to leave in protest, but I was rooted to my chair. The man who was mine was making his approach, and the determination etching his face screamed what he’d told me in my bedroom.

I want you in every way . . . and I will have you.

A tremble worked along my body as emotional overwhelm set it, and then he was there, standing over me with eyes full of love and concern.

“May I touch you?” he asked in an uneven voice.

My bottom lip was quivering, but I was able to get the word out. “Yes.”

He reached for me, his fingertips grazing my face to wipe away a tear I hadn’t realized I’d shed, but as he’d done it, I’d caught the subtle shake of his hand. I wasn’t the only one trembling, and the idea that I could make this legend of a man nervous was absolutely stunning.

“Do you still hate me?” His fingers were cold, but his palm was warm as he cupped my cheek and angled me up to look at him.

“A little,” I whispered. “But only because I hate losing.”

His smile was breathtaking, and when he began to lean down, I was sure his intent was to kiss me, and I was too impatient. I burst up from my chair, meeting him halfway, and pressed my lips to his.

Our kiss was full of passion, but it was tame and restrained.

Like the first time we’d been together in the costume room, this was a taste. A fraction of what we were capable of and just enough to tide us over until we were away from everyone else. Macalister was not one for making a show of affection or a spectacle of himself, and now that he’d done both, I sensed he was nearing his limit.

But I reveled in the connection of our mouths and the possession of his hands on my body, every nerve ending in me singing at his return.

On the table, my phone buzzed with a notification, and since I was pressed against him, I could feel his phone vibrating in his coat pocket. Word was out about what had happened, and the digital world was spreading it.

“We’re leaving,” he announced to both me and the table, but it was mostly for Ian’s benefit.

I snatched up my phone and my clutch and flashed an apologetic smile to my date, but he simply sat in his chair, staring up at Macalister with disbelief.

Like he’d done in his hedge maze, the man I loved walked so quickly, it was a struggle to keep up at first, but when he realized, he slowed and took my hand. I ignored the scowls from people who stared at us like I was some trollop who should be ashamed to run around with a man twice my age.

I’d faced far worse and survived. This was a small price to pay to get what I wanted.

Down the long hallway we went, Macalister towing me toward the entrance to the parking garage, and as soon as we stepped out into the frigid November air, a black Range Rover pulled up. He grabbed the backseat door handle and pulled it open for me.

This car had been waiting for us.

Once I’d climbed in, he shut the door and rounded the back of the SUV to get in on the other side, and I was dying to know how much of this night he had scripted. We buckled our seatbelts, and the car eased away from the entrance.

“How much did you pay the sound guy to turn on Damon’s microphone?”

The interior of the car was lit by the parking garage lights overhead, and a smile teased Macalister’s sexy lips. “Nothing. Vance did it for me.” His casual fist rested on his thigh, and his thumb brushed over the knuckles. “When he cleared his throat, that was the signal he could hear us, and I needed to ask the question.”

“What about his career? You wanted this to be his steppingstone.”

“He will be fine, and this,” he set his hand on mine, “was more important.” He hesitated for a moment. “I’ve spent too much time interfering with my sons’ lives and have decided I won’t be doing that anymore.”

“You mean, other than getting Vance to give Ian my number?” A smile warmed my face. “Did he also encourage him to bring me tonight as a guest?”