The Initiation (Filthy Rich Americans 1)

Macalister’s irritation swelled to outright anger. “That’s the exact offer I just proposed.”

A tremble worked its way up my legs but was thankfully hidden beneath the table. Outwardly, I tried to match his merciless personality. I said it before I lost the nerve.

“And also, ten million dollars.”

SIX

A DEAL IS DEEMED GOOD when neither side is happy at the end of negotiations, and right now Macalister Hale looked very, very unhappy.

I could relate.

My parents gaped at me. A stunned, short laugh came from Royce and hung awkwardly in the air.

Macalister’s question was deadly quiet. It was scarier than if he’d shouted it at me. “Are you out of your mind?”

Obviously, I was, because I was considering this absurd deal. I had no desire to be married at twenty-one, and even less interest in becoming Mrs. Royce Hale. But what choice did I have? My entire family was broke, soon none of us would be employed, and it was likely my sister had a baby on the way.

I risked angering him further, and my voice warbled with a tremble. “Ten million isn’t that much to you.”

“No.” Rather than storm away from the table, he leaned over it, getting closer to me. “Understand something. I’m already forgiving a huge mortgage. I’m not stupid enough to extend your parents another loan.”

“It wouldn’t be a loan.” I scrambled to come up with something. Anything to leverage. How deep did our money troubles run? What if my parents had years’ worth of back taxes outstanding? Beneath the table, I balled my hands into fists. “Think of it as a reverse dowry. You’d be buying my silence and . . .” I choked it out, “loyalty to Royce.”

Meaning I was essentially selling myself to him.

Macalister’s eyes went thin as he evaluated it, and he made me wait a lifetime before speaking. “Five hundred thousand.”

Relief and terror mixed inside my stomach. I was a freight train, barreling along much too fast and locked in on a path with one destination. Negotiations had started, and there was no turning back. I needed as much money as I could get. “Eight million.”

His sneer cut me in half. “You think I’d be willing to pay that much? It’s insulting.”

“No more than your counteroffer.”

The corner of his eyes crinkled. He was surprised I hadn’t backed down, and perhaps intrigued. “I want this done. Two.”

I was terrified to push my luck but went for it. “Five.”

There was no emotion on his face. No hint of what he was thinking or what would happen next. He could laugh, he could curse, or he could walk away and leave us with nothing. I waited with painful anticipation.

“Five million dollars, Marist Northcott,” he said, “and you better be the perfect, dutiful wife. You will look and act exactly how we tell you to. A paradigm of class, the girl who everyone looks up to and wants to be.”

Oh, God. It was impossible to breathe. How was a nobody like me supposed to accomplish that?

“If you don’t receive approval from the board, this offer is revoked. The house, the money, everything evaporates. You understand?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded.

“Then, we have a deal?” It was more statement than question from him.

“Marist.” My mother’s voice was a ghost. “We’ll figure something out. You don’t have to do this.”

Who was she fucking kidding? Of course, I did. Up until now, my life had been easy. I’d been protected. My parents had spoiled Emily and me and given us anything we’d ever wanted. They’d ensured I’d never had to sacrifice or struggle.

I peered across the table at the man who looked a lot like his father but hadn’t gained as hard of an edge yet. I traced the lines of Royce’s fingers with my gaze and couldn’t help but think about how he’d made me come. How he’d shattered me so completely with that same hand when he’d push me against the bookcase and jammed it inside my panties.

I could still smell the dusty, oaky scent of the library even now.

Agreeing to this was hard and unfair . . . but there were worse things than having to marry into one of the wealthiest families in the country. Becoming a Hale wasn’t exactly a death sentence.

It wouldn’t be—as long as I didn’t lose who I was along the way.

“Yes.” I said it so softly it was impossible to hear, so I cleared my throat and strived for an even, sure tone. “I agree.”

Royce’s unexpected smile made my heart stumble. Was I reading him right? He looked pleased at my answer, like he wanted this. What kind of sense did that make?

His father’s reaction was far more muted. Macalister was relieved to have an unpleasant task completed. He rose from his seat, reached across the table, and extended his hand. I smoothed my palms down on my skirt as I stood, wiping the sweat from them, and took the first handshake Macalister had ever offered me, sealing the deal.