In the dining room.
“Are you feeling all right?” the saleswoman asked, worried. She’d noticed my pale face, and perhaps the cold sweat dotting my brow.
“I’m fine,” I said as my stomach twisted into knots.
She put me in a short, rose gold dress that had an open back and a beautiful drape. It was business formal—not dressy enough for a wedding, but much fancier than anything I’d wear to dinner with my own family. It looked nice and sophisticated, though, and hopefully it would give me the confidence I’d need to get through this evening.
Royce made good on his promise. When I returned from my afternoon meetings, there was a deadbolt installed just above the knob on my bedroom door. It was brass and matched the décor perfectly, barely looking out of place. Only its shine gave away its newness.
I wondered if the same could be said of me in this house.
At six-thirty, there was a short knock. “Marist,” came Royce’s voice from behind the door. “It’s time for dinner.”
I balled my hands into fists, shook out the tension through my fingers, and strode to the door.
He was wearing a stone-gray suit with a charcoal colored tie. Like yesterday, he’d come straight from the office and hadn’t changed, but this time he hadn’t relaxed his look. The knot in his tie was sharp and perfect. Everything was buttoned down and polished.
Except for the way his hungry gaze roamed over me. It started at my nude heels and worked its way up, flowing over the pink hued fabric until finally finding my face. His blue eyes hinted at his indecent thoughts, and I did my best to pretend I didn’t care, nor was I having similar thoughts about the way he looked.
My exaggerated tone was sugary sweet. “How was your day, darling?”
He didn’t rise to take the bait. Instead, his appreciative gaze swiped over me once more, before landing on the engagement ring I wore. “Better now.”
Damn him. Unwanted warmth bloomed in the center of my chest. I went to push past him, but he put his arm on the doorframe and blocked my exit.
“Grab your phone,” he said. “You’re going to need it.”
That was strange, but I didn’t question it. I just did as I was told.
We walked together in silence through the hall, down the grand staircase, and as we approached the ornate wooden door to the dining room, trepidation turned my legs into unmovable cement. Panic bubbled in my stomach like over-carbonated cheap wine.
“Wait,” I whispered.
Royce’s warm palm pressed against the bare skin on my back. Not to push me forward, but to connect and calm. “Hey.” He matched my quiet voice. “It’s okay.”
Nothing was okay, though. Behind that door was the long dining table and flickering candelabras and nine men in tuxedos waiting for me—
I’d gone rigid, and Royce’s expression hung. “I, uh, can tell him you’re not feeling well.” He’d done his best to sound convincing, but it was pointless.
“Right. Because that worked out so well for Emily.”
Six weeks ago, my sister had tried to get out of lunch with the Hales, but Macalister hadn’t allowed it. He’d pushed until she’d made an appearance—one that ended with her throwing up all over his hand during their handshake.
Even if Royce told his father I was sick and that worked, it was only putting off the inevitable. I’d be right back in this situation again next week. Better to face it now and get it over with than live with another week of dread.
I swallowed a deep breath, forcing confidence into my body. “I’m fine. I can do this.”
I said it more for me than for him, but Royce nodded. “Yes. If anyone can, it’s you.”
He pushed the door open, and my lungs squeezed painfully tight.
The room looked so different than it had during the initiation. The curtains were open, and bright sunlight poured in from the oversized windows, chasing away shadows. The candelabras had been shelved on a side table. Even the impressive crystal chandelier overhead seemed transformed. It was elegant and regal, sparkling proudly rather than glinting sinisterly in the darkness.
The table had been set at the end closest to the door, opposite the side where I’d lain naked a little over a week ago and lost my virginity. I tried not to stare at the spot or think about that night. I needed to focus, anyway. The rest of the Hales were already seated, and, judging by Macalister’s irritated expression, they’d been waiting for us.
He sat at the head of the table, Alice to his right and his younger son Vance beside her. I worried for a moment the empty seat next to Macalister was for me, but Royce pulled out the farther chair and gestured to it.
“Thank you,” I uttered automatically, dropping down into the seat.