The Obsession (Filthy Rich Americans 2)

My focus settled back on the computer screen, and I stared at the ticker symbol. Rather than use their acronym, HBHC had chosen the name Hale as their identifier on the New York Stock Exchange. I sat up straight and punched the keys on the keyboard, looking up to see if CRNE was a stock ticker symbol.

It was.

Ascension Bank and Trust wasn’t as big as HBHC, but the rival bank wasn’t small either. They were still a Fortune 100 company, and they’d been around almost as long, although a merger had changed their name a few years ago.

Before then, they’d been Crane Bank Corp and they’d kept the CRNE ticker symbol after the name change.

My mind raced with a new question. Why would Royce invest so much in another company, and a competitor at that, if his life’s goal was to run HBHC? I couldn’t see any other reason to buy such a large stake in a rival company, except ownership. He was going to buy Ascension—it was what he needed more money for.

With that puzzle piece in place, the others fell in, and I finally saw the whole thing. He couldn’t buy his family’s company out from under his father, he’d need another company to do it. And Ascension was perfect.

Holy. Shit.

Royce was plotting a hostile takeover of HBHC.

TWELVE

MACALISTER SAT BEHIND THE DESK IN THE LIBRARY, looking like he was a king and ready to hold court. If he expected me to bow and cower, he could think again. The sting of the needle that had buried ink in my skin was still there, and I used the pain as fuel.

He’d crossed a line last night, and I was determined to push him away, back over to the side where he belonged.

“Good evening,” he said. There wasn’t a smile on his face, but it lurked in his voice.

I locked down my shoulders to prevent the shudder from rippling out and focused on my task. I sat in my seat and moved my pawn, not giving him any of my attention.

Even though my gaze stayed focused on the board, I sensed his hesitation.

“Don’t be rude.” He said it like a threat.

I lifted my defiant gaze to his and matched his cold tone. “Hello.”

He looked dissatisfied with my short response but made his opening move. “I read your book.”

I moved another pawn, using that to make my statement.

“Aren’t you curious to know what I thought of it?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me, regardless.”

Oh, he didn’t like that. His eyes went to slits. “I do not appreciate your tone when I’m trying to hold a conversation with you.”

“And I didn’t appreciate what you did last night, so no more conversations. I’m here to play chess, and that’s it.”

He didn’t take his calculating eyes off me as he moved his knight. “Am I to understand you’re upset that I gave you two orgasms?”

I wasn’t going to take his bait or blush at what he’d said. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my keys, and surrendered them to the desk. “That was the last time I’ll play your game.”

“Is that so?” He glared at the keys, offended by them. “I believe I told you to turn those in to Royce. I think he should know why you’re giving them up.”

“I agree,” I said. “That’s why I already told him this afternoon.”

His reaction was subtle, but I caught the way his shoulders straightened, and his eyes widened. My move had caught him off guard. “I don’t believe you.”

“Call him in here and ask him.” I crossed my arms over my chest, touching the sore spot beneath my arm where Medusa lived. “I’m not a good liar, but I’m not a Hale yet. I’m sure I’ll get better.”

Macalister’s eyebrow spiked up so high it was a perfect upside-down V. “You should think very carefully about the next thing you say to me.”

It was silent for a tense moment before I spoke, and I meant it in more than one way. “It’s your move.”

Anger simmered through his expression, but then it faded as he brought it under control. “I won’t allow you to quit when we’ve barely begun.”

I shook my head. “I’m done.”

He’d told me to think two moves ahead, and I had. I couldn’t win—the only way was to not play at all.

“No,” he said. “We had an agreement.”

I didn’t acknowledge his protest. “When we’re done with our chess match, I’ll bring the box back to you.”

“No, Marist.” He looked strangely human and desperate. “I’m not ready for this to be over.”

His admission seemed shockingly genuine and froze me in place.

After a heavy pause, his shoulders lifted on a deep breath. “I realize now I came on too strong last night. I apologize. Going forward, we can move at whatever speed you feel comfortable with.”

He still didn’t get it. “Macalister, there is no going forward. I’m never going to feel comfortable with what we did, and we’re never doing it again.”