The Initiation (Filthy Rich Americans 1)

The space was gorgeous and romantic.

Royce was a vision as he sat there beneath the fountain in his tuxedo, his elbows resting on his knees and his head hung. It stole my breath.

“The man of the hour,” I said softly.

He lifted his head and his intense, hungry eyes focused in on me. As he rose deliberately to his feet, his expression was ravenous, and excitement surged inside my chest. We were alone, and there was magic all around us. It hummed in every drop of water that rained down in the fountain. It sang in each flame burning in the ring of candles surrounding it.

And it lived in every shallow breath Royce and I took together.

“Come here.” He spoke quietly, as not to break the spell. “I want to ask you something.”

There was rustling as my dress train dragged over the pebbled path. I was nearly to him when his hand slipped into his pocket. This time, the black box he held was much smaller and the world slowed to a stop.

EIGHTEEN

ROYCE WAS NERVOUS as he propped open the box and knelt by the edge of my skirt.

“Oh, my God,” I cried. My hand flew to the center of my chest, perhaps to stop my heart from getting ahead of the rest of me.

I hadn’t expected anything like this. There’d been no stipulation laid out for Royce to get down on one knee and propose. I’d half expected Alice to present me with a ring this afternoon, let me know when the engagement was going to be official, and when I was supposed to slip it on.

Mostly, I hadn’t expected to feel this way. As if this proposal were real.

Like we were real.

As fucked up as today had been, the initiation had accomplished at least one of its goals—I felt bound to Royce. We’d survived and gotten each other through it.

The ring was beautiful. The center was a huge, cushion-cut solitaire, bordered all around by smaller diamonds, and a fading beam of sunlight made it glitter wildly against the black velvet box. The Costolli logo was imprinted on the inside of the lid, and I pictured Mr. Costolli sweet-talking Royce into buying the engagement ring when he’d come in for the necklace.

“I know,” Royce started, “this looks like I’m asking you to marry me, and I am.” His heart seemed to be racing as fast as mine was, given how quickly his chest moved.

Didn’t he know I was going to say yes?

His eyes were as clear as the diamond he was presenting to me. “I’m not stupid, Marist. We both came into this arrangement with goals that have nothing to do with each other, or love, but I’m an ambitious man. Eventually,” his words had gravity, pulling me under, “I will want it all.”

The only thing moving in this world were the glowing fireflies around us, sparks and flashes of brilliance in the summer night.

“This ring is yours no matter what. You can take it and the necklace and the check for five million and run. I’ll understand if that’s the choice you need to make.” He took a deep breath. “Or you can stay, and every day you wear this ring I’ll know you’re still with me.”

“Royce,” I breathed, reaching for him.

But he drew back, and his expression shuttered. “Wait. You need to understand what you’re agreeing to. I’m playing the long game here, Marist. Today was probably only the beginning.”

That gave me pause. “What?”

“My father’s like me—he’s a different person behind closed doors. He’ll use us against each other. He’ll do it if it helps him get what he wants, or even if he just thinks it’ll be fun.” He drew the ring from its perch in the box and held it up. “So, I’m asking you to marry me. But also to trust me, and when it’s all over, to give us a chance to have . . . more.”

He was Hades, wanting to take me to the underworld and be his bride, and this ring was the pomegranate seed that would make me stay. I chose to go with the version of the myth where Persephone took it willingly.

“Yes,” I murmured.

Both our hands were trembling as he slipped the ring onto my finger, and then he was on his feet, his arms wrapped around me, and his mouth covered mine. The kiss had barely begun before the disembodied voice of the announcer asked people to find their seats. Dinner would be served shortly.

Royce laced our fingers together and led us back to the start of the maze, knowing exactly which turn to take, and I wondered if he could run the whole thing in his sleep. We tried to sneak out without anyone noticing, but Alice once again was waiting to ambush us. Only this time, it was with her phone. She snapped pictures of us and my new ring, promising to post our “fairy tale engagement” as soon as Macalister’s toast was over.