The Deception (Filthy Rich Americans 3) - Page 66

“Fine. I’ll sleep out here,” he said. “You take the room.”

I gave a short nod and headed back the way we’d just come, while he stood statue still. But I paused in the hallway with my back turned when he abruptly spoke.

“This is what he wants,” he said. “Don’t let him do this to us.”

My memory drifted back to the night he’d sold me and how I’d pleaded with him as he’d walked away. It had wounded me deeply how he hadn’t given me a response then, or even turned to look back at me, but now I had cruel insight as the roles were reversed.

If I said anything or so much as looked at him, I’d break down completely. The only way to survive was to get the hell out of the room.

So, I did.

FIFTEEN

BREAKFAST WAS SERVED OUTSIDE under the shade of the top deck, and although the view was spectacular, all I could see was Royce in his white polo shirt and jeans, picking at the fruit salad on his plate.

I was sure the crew had noticed he’d slept on the couch last night and they had picked up on the tension running between us. Maybe they’d overheard some of our argument and were gossiping to each other. But they were professional and discreet, and because they were so good at their jobs, most of the time I forgot they were there.

“I didn’t sleep last night,” I announced.

Royce’s gaze turned to me, his voice going soft. “Yeah, me neither.”

“The upside is it gave me some perspective. You’re right, I don’t want your father to come between us. We’re stronger together.” I put my elbows on the table and leaned forward. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Aspen. I’d stupidly thought if he just saw us, maybe he’d leave us alone. The thing with Alice . . . he manipulated me into staying, and I’m ashamed I let him.” I pulled my eyebrows together, struggling to put the words together. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry I lied to you.”

The way he looked at me was heartbreaking. “God, Marist. Me too. I’m sorry I lied, and I’m sorry for what I did to disrupt Emily’s life.”

“You have to tell her,” I said. “She needs to know before she lets him back into her life. I mean, when he found out she was pregnant, he offered her five thousand dollars to get rid of the baby.”

After Royce had paid him a hundred thousand dollars.

A scowl swept over him. “I’d told him I’d take care of her, but Jesus.” He blinked and refocused. “Yeah. First thing when we get back, I’ll tell her.”

“Good.” Anxiety tensed the muscles of my back, making my posture stiff. “I have another request, and you’re probably not going to like it.”

“What is it?”

“I’d like to go home, and when we get back to the house, I need to stay in my old room for a while.”

I’d spent a lot of time last night thinking about this, and my anger had given me clarity, sharp and focused. Like an economist, I identified the problem, forecast scenarios with different variables, and considered the pros and cons of each outcome. I’d been dealing with each obstacle as Macalister had thrown them at me, never thinking two moves ahead like he did.

That was going to change, starting now.

Royce held my gaze for an impossibly long moment. “You’re right, I don’t like it. You want to leave our honeymoon? How are we supposed to be together if we—”

“I love you, Royce, but I’m not very happy with you right now. You put yourself first in everything. You fucked with Emily’s life and my life, so you could get whatever you wanted. You’re even doing it now to Tate.”

“What?” he scoffed. “Tate’s a big boy. He makes his own decisions.”

“Right. So, if he suddenly decided he was happy at Ascension and didn’t want to blow the whistle, you wouldn’t do anything that would impact his life?”

Frustration dragged a sigh from his lungs. “It’s not that simple.”

“I’m asking for some time away from the orchestration of it all, so I can figure out how to move forward.”

It was like every bone in his body hated this idea, and the spoiled rich boy who lay dormant in him slipped out. “You know how that’s going to look to him? Canceling our honeymoon and staying in separate rooms?”

“It’ll look like he won,” I said. “But he hasn’t. I’m still your wife and your partner, and if you care about me, you’ll put my needs above your wants.”

Both of our phones vibrated in a short burst on the tabletop, and when he flipped his over, we each saw the breaking alert. The Ascension board had voted unanimously to accept HBHC’s offer.

It should have been a happy moment for him. He’d made a mountain’s worth of money and passed another checkpoint in his plan, which meant he had almost everything he wanted—but it wasn’t good enough.

Tags: Nikki Sloane Filthy Rich Americans Billionaire Romance
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