He gestured to the hallway door and the group of horrified faces that had gathered around it. There were at least a half dozen employees and far too many witnesses. Nothing could be taken back or undone.
“It was an accident,” I whispered.
I didn’t know what compelled me to do it, but I put my hand on Macalister’s. Was it how he’d helped Royce pull me to safety? How he’d included his son in the list of people he loved? Or how he’d removed the threat of the woman hellbent on destroying me? His hand was colder than ever, and I squeezed, trying to impart some warmth. It looked very much like Macalister was going into shock.
His eyes struggled to focus on the shredded cut in Royce’s sleeve which was still bleeding. The sight of blood no longer had a debilitating effect on me. All I could worry about now were the two Hale men.
Macalister grabbed Royce’s arm with his free hand and squeezed down on the cut. “Keep pressure on it. You’ll need stitches.”
He wasn’t Zeus or the Minotaur. For the first time ever, I saw him as he was supposed to be—a father concerned about his son. With all of us stained with Hale blood, my hand on Macalister, and his on Royce, we had to look like a tightknit family unit . . . which ten minutes ago couldn’t have been further from the truth.
Misfortune had brought me into the family, and now tragedy bound us together forever.
Macalister blinked, and his eyes cleared. He looked at Royce as if he were handing over his life to him, and perhaps he was. “You distance yourself as much as you can from me now. We’re already vulnerable, and if the stock goes much lower, you’ll be fending off takeover attempts. Lean on Allen and the rest of the board.” He moved closer to his son, and his tone verged on a plea. “Don’t let our company go.”
Royce’s eyes widened. “I won’t.”
Macalister’s focus shifted to me, or more specifically, to my hand resting on top of his and the sapphire ring he’d given me. My heartbeat went erratic. My heart belonged to Royce, but I hurt for Macalister. He’d lost two wives, his company, his dream of sitting on the Federal Reserve . . . all he’d had or ever hoped to have, was gone. Not that he was blameless, but his fall into ruin was swift and harsh.
“I know it’s irrelevant,” he said, “but she was wrong.” He lifted his eyes to mine, and they were haunting. “Even monsters are capable of love, Medusa.”
It added to the turmoil swirling inside me, but he’d said it with such a finality, it sounded like a goodbye.
The hallway door to the balcony swung open, and footsteps rang out. I glanced over my shoulder to see Macalister’s assistant Nigel, who wore a somber expression as he took in the sight of us. “Paramedics and police just entered the building, sir.”
Macalister nodded and reluctantly pulled away from me. When he let go of Royce, my husband set his right hand back on the wound to slow the bleeding and rose to his feet, towering over us. He extended his available hand out, offering to help his father up.
It was surreal to see these two men in bloody suits, who’d been sworn adversaries in the boardroom earlier, united now. I didn’t know what the future held for any of us, but it gave me the tiniest glimmer of what could be.
TWENTY-TWO
Eighteen Months Later
LUCIFER WAS DETERMINED TO GET HIS BLACK HAIR all over my dress. It was more my fault than his. I’d finished getting ready early, and Royce was late as usual, so I’d lit a fire in the fireplace in the library and nestled into the cat’s favorite chair to read while I waited.
At least the dress was dark. It was navy chiffon, with thin straps that held the top up and crisscrossed low on my back. There was a mini lint roller in my clutch too that I could use in the limo before we made our entrance to the HBHC Christmas party.
Lucifer’s deep purr rumbled as I stroked his back, and he shifted in my lap, finding a more comfortable spot. He didn’t bother lifting his head as footsteps came down the hall and Royce moved swiftly into the room.
“Hey, sorry.” He already had his tie off and his fingers worked to undo the button at his collar. “I swear the L.A. branch loves to save their most important meetings for Friday afternoons.”
I leaned forward, set my iPad on the side table beside the mythology chess set, and smiled. “How was your day?”
“Long.” His intense gaze swept over me and heated as it lingered over my cleavage. “Better now.”
Or perhaps it wasn’t my cleavage he was staring at, but the deep emerald strands of my hair. I’d begun coloring it again a few months ago, but every time he looked at me, it was like he was seeing a long-lost love. It made breath hurry in and out of my lungs.