The Initiation (Filthy Rich Americans 1)

Once I’d slipped into the new top and tucked it into the skirt, I shifted back to face her and awaited approval.

She nodded. “Yes, that works.” She brightened abruptly. “How did you do with your assignment?”

It was a foreign feeling to not put my best effort forward. I was suddenly the kid who forgot to turn in their homework. “I might need another day or two.”

Her expression was pointed. I knew what she wanted, so I unlocked my phone and reluctantly handed it over. She wasn’t going to be happy with my feeble attempt. As I sank into the chair, Alice scrolled through my album.

“Oh. What’s the story with this necklace?”

I’d forgotten that was in there. I frowned. “It was my mother’s.”

She glanced up from my phone. “Was?”

“I mean, it is. I took it Costolli’s to be”—I searched for something other than the truth—“appraised.”

Her eyes softened with understanding. Her attention went back to the screen, and as she scrolled, each picture seemed to increase her irritation.

“What are these at the end?” she asked. “The fountain downstairs?”

“I thought it was pretty.”

Her look was pointed. “Okay, but this doesn’t work. It still doesn’t tell me who you are, Marist.”

I bit my tongue so hard it was a miracle my mouth didn’t fill with blood. The problem was she actually wasn’t interested in me. I had no desire to live a carefully curated life of picture-worthy moments, hoping to impress others. The real me posted random shit of mythology and pretty plates of food.

“Don’t slouch,” she said, correcting me like a schoolmarm. I straightened my posture, and she pressed her lips together, considering. Her tone was conversational, rather than adversarial. “Maybe you think all this is silly or pointless, but I need you to understand . . . this is important to Macalister.”

“Why?” I wished instantly I hadn’t said it, but she didn’t seem offended by the question.

“Because he’s trying to improve the dynasty that is the Hale family. He has a legacy to protect, sure. But he’s also thinking bigger. He wants to be a recognizable, elite brand. Part of America’s new royal class, like the Kennedys.”

My pulse quickened. “He’s considering politics?”

“Macalister? God, no.” The thought was humorous to her. “But Vance will have a degree in political science next year, and his father has big expectations.”

Oh, I bet he did. If Vance was going into politics, his father would want to see a President Hale in his lifetime.

Alice had said the magic words when she’d told me this was important to Macalister. I hoped she’d believe my eagerness. “I can try harder.”

“Good. Tomorrow you’ll have better shots, I’m sure. Today you’ll post the picture of the necklace and tag Costolli’s in it.” She took her seat behind the desk, opened a drawer, and passed a folder to me. “Before we get started, this is a nondisclosure agreement. It’s standard stuff. Anything said or witnessed when you’re with the Hales is confidential.”

I flipped open the folder and was assaulted by a dense contract. My eyes glazed over just scanning the first paragraph. There was no sound in the office other than Alice absentmindedly tapping the edge of the pen she’d picked up against her blotter while I looked over the NDA. I hurried through the reading, not wanting to keep her waiting. I selected a pen from the holder, uncapped it, and leaned over to sign—

“Stop,” she said abruptly. Her hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. “Marist, did you read all of it?”

I parted my lips to say something, but she already had her answer from my reaction. I hadn’t.

“You’re so young.” Her voice went soft. “I’m going to give you some friendly advice I wish I’d gotten, and it’s advice you’re going to need. Read everything before you sign. Take as much time as you need. If you don’t understand, you ask questions.” She gently squeezed my wrist. “Promise me.”

“I promise.” I nodded, and when she was satisfied, she released me.

After reading it line-by-line, I picked up the pen and signed. I understood that I couldn’t discuss anything with anyone outside the family, and there would be steep fines and legal recourse if I did. Alice made a copy for me, and I slipped it in my purse.

“All right,” she said, tucking a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear. “Do you know how many board members there are here?”

“Nine.”

She looked pleased with my correct answer. “Do you know any of them?”

“No, not really. I’ve met Mr. Shaunessy a few times. I went to prom with his son.”

Alice’s expression was strange, like she’d swallowed wrong—but the feeling seemed to pass quickly. “Okay, then, we’ll start there.”

It took nearly an hour to go through the file of Liam Shaunessy that was stored completely in Alice’s head. First, it was his basic history. Where he went to school, how he came to HBHC, his ascension to the board. Next came the personal. He was married with two kids, both boys, which I already knew. He lived in Cape Hill and enjoyed golf and duck hunting.