The Deception (Filthy Rich Americans 3)

His eyes were storm clouds looming over a turbulent ocean. “I believe I said I wouldn’t stand in the way.”

Even though my head ached, I shook it. “That’s not good enough. This has to stop, Macalister.”

His gaze darted to Royce. “You’ll give us a minute.”

Instinctively, I squeezed Royce’s hand to keep him from moving, but he was already on the same page as me. Defiance coated his words. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“He stays,” I added, backing him up. If Macalister was going to plead with me, he could do it in front of his son.

A distance grew, first in his cold eyes, and then in his physical retreat. Macalister’s posture was stiff yet challenging. Like he anticipated a fight he wasn’t all that confident he could win and needed space to make his charge. “If that’s what you want, then I will try. However, you gave me quite a different impression when I found you on the stairs.”

Heat seared across my cheeks as the blood rushed to my face. “I thought you were Royce.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, but it was too tactical to be called a smile. “Did you? We aren’t often mistaken for each other.”

It was true. Royce favored his father, but they weren’t spitting images. Macalister was taller and narrower, with darker hair and lighter eyes. Even the way they carried themselves was different. Macalister moved with calculated efficiency, whereas Royce had ease and swagger.

“I’d been drugged,” I said.

The question came from Royce in a tight voice. “What’s he talking about?”

Arrogance washed through his father’s expression. “I find it interesting that, as you lay there, believing you were dying, you chose not to say that. Time was of the essence, and you used it to tell me you loved me.”

I nearly came up off the bed, hissing it at him. “Because I was hallucinating, and I thought you were him.”

His lips widened into an evil grin. Macalister didn’t believe me. For as smart as he could be, deep down he was still human, and he’d twisted the situation until it fit the narrative he desperately desired.

And worse, I’d allowed him to play me. We were negotiating, and now I was on the defensive. My focus swiveled from my opponent to the boy who’d ceased moving. Did he believe me, or had he allowed his father to plant a seed of doubt in his mind? Even now, Macalister was trying to disrupt us.

“I’m in love with Royce,” I declared loudly so both men would hear. “My loyalty is to him. If you want me to lie to save both you and your wife, then you’ll agree to my terms.”

It took him forever to say anything. Finally, “If I were to—”

“Ascension,” I said abruptly.

Both men looked like I’d just driven over them with my Porsche.

Macalister’s suspicious gaze angled toward his son. “What about it?”

Was I leaving money on the table? For years, Royce had quietly accrued stock in the competing bank for what I assumed was a plan to take control. And once he’d taken over Ascension, he would use it to go after HBHC.

But Macalister had somehow learned of Royce’s plan and was making his own move to acquire the competitor. A defensive play to shut down everything Royce had spent years setting up.

“Agree that HBHC won’t buy it,” I said.

The shock on Royce’s face drained away and he went . . . blank. His expression was too guarded for me to be able to read anything in it. I didn’t understand at all. Was he worried if he showed an emotion, he’d give too much away to his father? I had the strange feeling he was unhappy about what I’d said, but it was likely he was overcompensating. Surely, he wanted this. It had been his goal.

Right?

Honestly, I didn’t know. He’d never let me in, never answered my questions. Even if he hadn’t danced around them and given me an answer, I wasn’t sure what to trust. For years, he’d spun lies, and the truth had only become murkier as I fell under his spell.

Macalister was far easier to understand. His jaw set and his eyes narrowed. My demand had truly offended him. “That is not up for negotiation. Let me make one thing crystal clear, Marist. I will not have business decisions dictated to me by you, or anyone else. Is that understood?”

“The board already voted in favor of it, Marist.” Royce’s voice was odd and distant.

“Overwhelmingly, I might add.” Macalister lifted his chin, exaggerating the way he looked down on me. “Royce was the only dissenting vote.”

I squeezed my fiancé’s hand, wishing I could understand. Did he want me to try to fight for this, or was he subtly telling me it was already too late? I stared into his blue eyes, desperate for answers, but found none.