The Initiation (Filthy Rich Americans 1)

He leaned forward in his chair. “Are you waiting for marriage?”

“No, sir. I mean, I wasn’t intentionally.” My mouth had gone dry, and I eyed the water glass in front of me longingly, watching a drop of condensation trail erratically down the side. But I knew if I reached for it, they might see how I was shaking. “Honestly, I didn’t date much in high school or college, and when I did, it just . . . never went that far.”

Mr. Lynch, who was seated to Macalister’s right, turned his stunned gaze to his boss and said it with awe. “She’s a virgin.”

Macalister wasn’t having it. “You’re a gorgeous girl from a wealthy family. You really expect us to believe no one has touched you?”

With everything he’d said, it was his compliment that threw me the most. “I didn’t say no one has touched me, but I haven’t—”

“I see. What exactly have you done?” The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. It screamed, gotcha.

My gaze dropped to the blank notepad before me and the pen with the HBHC logo printed on its side. There was no point in lying. Macalister had nearly caught me with Royce’s dick in my hands.

I was supposed to play my part and be what Macalister wanted, but it seemed like what he wanted most was to tear me apart. To break me down and prove I wasn’t worthy of entry into his family.

Alice had won him over by standing up to him. It was incredibly risky, but if I was going to lose, at least I could say I went down swinging.

I filled my lungs with air, using it to inflate my confidence. From this point on, I needed to be unsinkable. “I’ve been intimate with two guys.”

His lips parted, probably to ask for specifics, but I cut him off before he could.

“Hands,” I said, “above and below the waist. That kind of thing.”

Mr. Lynch didn’t seem to be aware this conversation was truly between Macalister and me and interrupted. “No oral sex? Ever?”

My gaze was locked onto Macalister as I answered his lackey. “No, sir.”

In my peripheral vision, I saw the rest of the board members exchange looks with each other.

“Who were the boys?” asked Mr. Shaunessy.

“Do you really want their names?” It was clear they did. “Well, Royce. And, um . . . Richard.”

Mr. Shaunessy flinched. “My son?”

The king, sitting on his throne, stared at me. He didn’t care about who, only why I was still a virgin. To him, I was a puzzle to solve. “Are you not interested in sex?”

“No, I am.” I wasn’t going to play his game and let him embarrass me for something that wasn’t shameful. “Very interested, actually.”

“Is that so?” His eyebrow arrowed upward. “Then, I assume you masturbate?”

A few of the board members gasped. Mr. Geffen coughed as he choked on his own spit.

Inside I was dying, but I refused to show it. Be unfazed. Besides, I read the challenge in Macalister’s words and would meet it head-on. My voice was loud and strong. “Nearly every day.”

Some of the board stirred in their seat. But Macalister? The shift was subtle, barely noticeable. His lips parted and heat flared in his eyes. It wasn’t judgement or disgust causing it—this fire was something far more insidious.

Arousal.

My heart thudded to a stop.

His broad shoulders tilted as he leaned on one armrest of his chair, and his lips peeled back into a smile. “I’m sorry if you find my questions frank, but I believe sex is an important aspect of a healthy marriage. Most girls your age have already had some experience with it.”

“I am not like most girls.”

His smile widened, stretching into his eyes. “No. No, you’re not. I see that now.” He thumbed the underside of wedding band on his finger. “You’re attracted to Royce? Sexually?”

I would have thought that was clear, but I humored him. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s good. However, I’d prefer if the two of you don’t go any further until we’ve finished this approval process.”

Yet another instance of Macalister trying to assert absolute control, but it wouldn’t work. Royce had already told me he wouldn’t take my virginity until we were engaged. “I’ve waited a year for him, I think I can wait another . . .” Shit! What was I doing? “I mean, I’ve waited this long, it’s fine.”

My attempt at backtracking was futile. Macalister latched on, intrigued. “What was that?” When I said nothing, he prodded, “Go on. You said you waited a year for him. What did you mean?”

My hesitation wasn’t helping, but it was hard to admit. “Last year, Royce . . . he asked me not to sleep with anyone.”

His expression didn’t change, but behind his eyes I could see him working through it. “He wanted to be your first.”