The Initiation (Filthy Rich Americans 1)

Hyperawareness inched over my skin, coupled with a terrible feeling of dread. “Yes, sir.”

“Then I don’t need to tell you how your tuition, plus your sister’s, is more than Charles makes in a year. To keep you enrolled, he sold off his stock options.”

My heart raced as the financial walls began to close in, making me swallow thickly. “But the house—”

“Was mortgaged three years ago and is now in default. I’m sure you know which bank holds the lien.” He looked sickeningly pleased to tell me all this. “The fact is Charles and Delancey have been living well beyond their means for years. But that ends today.”

I expected my parents to say something, to either defend themselves or say it wasn’t true. But they were utterly silent, and the quiet grew more crippling with each breath I pulled in. All of our money was . . . gone?

Macalister spread his hands and placed his fingertips on the tabletop. “The only thing you currently own worth any value is your name and reputation.” His statement was laced with a threat. We were all acutely aware he could take those just as easily as he could take the house. A single word from him and we’d be shunned.

“I’m going to make an offer,” he said. “Only a fool wouldn’t accept it.”

I dragged my gaze from Macalister, unable to look at him. I didn’t want him to see the panic swamping in my eyes. Instead, I turned my attention to his son.

Royce sat perfectly still, one hand on the table, his fingertips resting against the edge of his folded napkin. The way he was unnaturally frozen in this casual position made me think it was for show. That inside he was tense and uncomfortable, and worried if he moved, he might give that away.

Macalister straightened in his chair, drawing my attention back to him. “When a new member is welcomed to the board, a woman plays an important role in the tradition.”

My parents’ shame had left them unable to speak, so I had to. “What kind of role?”

“She becomes his wife.”

Oh, my God. The Hales had always been old-fashioned, but this was . . . archaic.

“Marriage is an important partnership,” he continued. “And it’s one the board needs to approve.” He didn’t notice the shock rippling through me. “Your parents were terrible with their finances, but they did a sufficient job raising their daughters. Obviously, Royce isn’t going to marry Emily now, but your family name has enough status that, even though you’re young, this pairing makes sense. And a Hale marrying a Northcott is what Royce’s mother always wanted.”

My shoulders rose and fell as I struggled to catch my breath. “You mean, Royce and I—?” My gaze flicked toward the man seated across from me. He hadn’t moved, but there was an edge of excitement in his blue eyes.

An unwanted flash of heat coursed through me, when it should have been disgust.

“You will marry my son,” Macalister stated flatly. “In exchange, I’ll forgive your parents’ mortgage and they can keep the house that’s been in your mother’s family for four generations. For appearances’ sake, your father will continue at the company, but his finances will be taken over by a manager of my choosing.”

Because he wouldn’t want any scandal with his daughter-in-law’s family, and more likely, because he preferred having total control.

My voice was hollow. “If I don’t?”

“Charles will have to find employment elsewhere.” Macalister’s expression was a storm, and he dropped the pretense. “I’ll foreclose on the house, and everyone will know how your parents squandered their money. When I’m done, you won’t even have your reputation. You’ll be left with nothing.”

My mother burst into tears, and my heart tore down the middle. One side ached for her and this humiliation, and the other side was hot with anger. They’d seen this coming for years and purposefully kept it from my sister and me. They hadn’t scaled back or tightened their belts. How could they continue living like nothing was wrong? Was it avoidance? Or pure denial?

I sucked in a breath through my teeth as another idea took shape. Perhaps they had a plan and had just been biding their time. Maybe they’d been counting on Emily marrying Royce and bailing them out.

It was the anger that gave me strength, although it couldn’t be heard in my voice. I’d been told Macalister was a ruthless negotiator, but I was about to find out firsthand. “I . . . have a counteroffer.”

His shoulders snapped back like I’d asked if his Cartier watch was a fake, but I sensed he was simply posturing. He probably enjoyed this sort of thing. “My offer was more than generous.”

I ignored him. “If I agree to marry Royce,” hysterical laughter bubbled in my throat, but I tamped it down, “we keep the house, my father keeps his job and agrees to the financial planner.”