The Obsession (Filthy Rich Americans 2)

“Yes, and you understand what happens if I win. I believe I explained it to you the last time we spoke on the phone.”

As he forced me to recall his filthy fantasy, trembles shook my knees, but hopefully they were hidden beneath my flouncy skirt.

I stared at him, unable to move, as he extended his hand. “Agreed?”

“Marist.” Royce’s twisted, tortured word shot straight to my core, and then he uttered the same phrase I’d pleaded the night he’d sold me. “Don’t do this.”

Couldn’t he see there wasn’t any other way? We’d both sacrificed too much to have him end up with nothing. I gazed at him, trying to convey it was going to be all right. I was going to save us both, I just needed him—for once—to trust me.

I set my focus back on Macalister and grasped his hand before I lost the nerve. His powerful shake was firm and aggressive, and I pulled my hand free before he wanted to let me go.

His head swung toward his son. “Leave us.”

Royce’s shoulders shook. He seemed to be vibrating with barely controlled rage and I had to avert my eyes, unable to bear the sight of it. Stones ground together as his feet brought him closer, and each measured footstep mirrored the slowing thump of my heartbeat.

When the sound stopped, I lifted my timid gaze to him.

If looks could kill, Macalister Hale would have been struck dead in the center of his hedge maze, killed by his own son like King Laius in the Oedipus myth. Royce’s fury was so powerful, it seared right through his father’s icy shell and cracked inside.

“A day is going to come,” Royce seethed, “when I’m going to make you regret this, and you should know . . . that day is coming very, very soon.”

Was that fear edging into Macalister’s eyes? He blinked, and it vanished. “I’m more powerful, experienced, and intelligent than you’ll ever be, Royce. Don’t be foolish and throw away everything I’ve given you over someone we both know you won’t care about by the time you walk down the aisle.” He pointed to the exit. “Leave without another word, or I’ll lose my patience and be forced to do something drastic. Something that would include our attorneys.”

It wasn’t clear if he meant HBHC’s attorneys or his personal ones, but the threat was too real to ignore. Royce cast a final glare at his father, then turned his eyes toward me. The fire of violence in them extinguished, leaving behind only the beautiful sapphire blue and all the unspoken words he wanted to say to me.

With his tongue shackled and the order from the king handed down, there was nothing else for him to do but leave. I watched my fiancé go, even after he disappeared behind the wall of evergreen and the sound of his despondent footsteps trailed off to nothing.

Every inch of my body was aware of the man who lurked at my back, waiting on me. When I turned to face him, I was shocked to find the pained expression he wore. Did he feel actual emotion?

Was he regretting his decision?

“Why are you doing this?” I asked.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in a sign of frustration. “Because this thing between us is unhealthy.”

Well, there was an understatement. “Yeah, no shit.”

Down came his hand, and his eyes popped open, pinning me under his turbulent gaze. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I didn’t want to get involved. I only wanted to put distance between the two of you.”

I didn’t believe him for one second. There were too many times he’d looked at me with carnal thirst or outright desire. There was the day I’d interviewed with the board and stood up to him. The time we’d waltzed together after the initiation. And of course, the evening when he’d bought me.

“I feel infected,” he accused. “Thoughts of you take up time I don’t have to spare. And you cloud my judgement to the point it has become a serious issue. You’ve denied me, and more than once, which I believe is the root of the problem. Once we put it right, I can move forward.”

My pulse thundered through my body. He was a spoiled brat determined to get his way on an epic scale. I glared at him, dumbfounded. “You seriously believe if you get your ‘two minutes’ with me, you’ll—what? Get me out of your system?”

Had the man never watched episodic television or seen a movie? Because if he had, he’d know that preposterous idea didn’t work.

He grew angry, inching toward the edge of his control. “You’re a relentless distraction. I spend all day, every day thinking about the moment when I’ll see you next. Are you aware I was needed in Helsinki earlier this week for a face-to-face? I pushed the meeting to video conference so I could stay here, with you. Which is entirely unacceptable.” His gaze left mine, and he stared at the fountain as he searched for the right way to express himself. When he found it, disgust cascaded down his face. “This thing . . . this fucking obsession is beneath me.”