The Obsession (Filthy Rich Americans 2)

What if it took him less time to harden into cold, unmovable stone?

What if he’s become his father already?

Macalister was dark everywhere except for his pale eyes. “Someday, you’ll see how I saved you. You may even thank me for what I did.”

Fucking doubtful.

Yet the scariest thing of all was it looked like he truly believed what he’d said. He imagined himself my savior.

I couldn’t stand still under his inspection another second. I opened my hand and looked down at the figure in my palm. The carved black piece was intricate and beautiful.

“Would you like to play?” he asked.

“No, thank you.” I didn’t want to spend any more time in this library than was necessary. “I don’t know how.”

This idea offended him more than anything else I’d ever done, and he scowled. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not,” I said quickly. Was this really that impossible to believe? My sister hated games. My father didn’t have time for them, and my mother only played cards. “No one ever taught me.”

His focus fell to the piece in my hand before returning skeptically to me. Behind his eyes, he seemed to be considering something, and a feeling of unease grew in my chest.

“Then I’ll teach you.”

My pulse sped tumbling along. “No, that’s all right. I don’t—”

The words died as he held up a hand to silence me. “The piece you’re holding is the king.” He spoke it heavy with meaning. “When he cannot escape the threat of capture, the game is over.”

My mouth went dry. Was he implying he was the evil king and I’d captured him? I hurried to set the piece down on the board. “I’m sure there are things you’d rather be doing than teaching me a board game.”

His eyebrow arched so high it was a miracle it didn’t knock down the chandelier. “Chess is a sophisticated game of strategy and tactics. You will enjoy it very much.”

If he was going to be my partner? Again, fucking doubtful.

He wouldn’t be dissuaded, even when I’d made it clear I didn’t want to play. He didn’t care, knowing he’d get his way. As he picked up the board and carried it to the desk, I stood rooted to my spot and looked longingly at the door. As long as I was here, I had to follow his orders. There wasn’t a way out, but perhaps I could get something for my misery.

He wanted something, but I did too.

“I want a job at HBHC,” I said.

He was arranging the board and paused, his fingertips still on a figure of a horse’s head. “Excuse me?”

“Royce doesn’t have an assistant. I was thinking I could be his until my semester starts.”

“No.” He didn’t bother to consider it. He just resumed his task, as if it were that easy to shut me down.

“I need something to do, rather than sit around the house all day, waiting for Alice to summon me.” Like I’d done today.

This time when he paused, he wore his irritation like his expensive suit. “It wouldn’t look good to have you working for him. If you need help occupying your time,” his tone threatened, “I’ll find something for you.”

I kept my voice soft and pleading, not wanting to challenge him. “You could call it an unpaid internship.”

His irritation climbed to the top of the bookshelves. “Why would you want that?”

“Experience,” I choked out.

Oh, I was going to have to get much better at lying if I was going to survive the Hale family.

Macalister’s jaw set. “That’s an acceptable answer, but it’s not your reason. Tell me now before I lose my patience with you.”

I went with a vague version of the truth. “Royce shuts me out to the point I don’t know who he is. You had me move in so we could get to know each other better, but he’s at the office so much . . . I thought this could help.”

What it would really do was help me figure out what Royce was planning. I’d have total access to his schedule, see who he was meeting with and talking to. I had no qualms about spying on my fiancé to discover all the secrets he wouldn’t tell me.

Macalister ran a hand over his jawline. “You understand you’ll be around him the majority of your day, and at the house in the evenings, in addition to all the events and obligations he has.”

“Yes.”

He didn’t smile with his lips, but it lurked in his eyes. “Royce won’t like that.”

“No,” I said, “I don’t suppose he will.”

He straightened abruptly as if it had been settled. “I will allow this on two conditions.”

My hands hung at my sides, hidden in the folds of my skirt, and I bunched my fingers into fists, bracing for impact.

“First, because you two will be working so closely and living together, I think a little distance is needed. You’ll refrain from physical contact except when it’s necessary. For instance, if you’re in public and some display of affection is required, that’s acceptable. But there’s no need for it in my house.”