The Deception (Filthy Rich Americans 3)

“I can’t believe he fucking threw a chair.”

His laughter was kind of contagious. A much-needed release. “And you climbed over the table.”

The arms around me tightened, and as he finally got his laughter under control, his eyes filled with love. “Because the thought of losing you scared the shit out of me.”

The elevator doors slid open with a mechanical grind, interrupting what likely would have been a kiss. Instead, he took my hand again and pulled me out into the hall.

I’d never been on the top floor before. It was only the C-level executives and their assistants’ offices, plus a private kitchen and meeting spaces. Royce knew exactly where we were going. Our first stop was the kitchen, where every day a chef prepared a full lunch for the executives. I rested a hand on the prep table while Royce pulled two bottles of Evian out of the fridge. He made a joke about needing something stronger, but it was nine in the morning.

We’d celebrate later.

Bottles in hand, we went farther down the hall. “My dad’s office is there,” he said, gesturing to the door at the end. The shades were down over the glass, making it impossible to see inside. What was Macalister doing in there right now? Sitting at his desk while the guards stood nearby? Was he already plotting how he was going to get control back?

Before we reached Macalister’s office, Royce turned to the left and pushed open a heavy paned glass door. I blinked against the bright sunlight as I followed him outside. It was a garden balcony cut into the building with potted trees and surrounded by living walls of greenery. Like the house in Aspen, the railing was glass so it didn’t obstruct the view.

The harbor and the city stretched out at our feet.

“This is beautiful,” I said.

“It was Alice’s idea. She thought my dad would like a space close by that didn’t feel like he was trapped in the office.”

I understood. Running a multibillion-dollar international company was not an easy job. We rarely saw Macalister, and when we did, he was usually on the phone. My gaze drifted from the morning traffic down below to the balcony door that connected straight to Macalister’s office.

“What happens now?”

He followed my gaze. “With my dad?” Royce unscrewed the cap of his water and took a sip. “He’ll keep his office and stay on as president. It’s a figurehead position—no real power. An advisory role, if he accepts it.”

Because Macalister was still a Hale and an integral part of the company.

“What about you?” I asked.

“I expect Allen will be CEO for the next few years, and I’ll be the chief operating officer.” He was talking about Mr. Burrows. “When I’m ready, I’ll step in.” When surprise flooded my eyes, he gave me an easy smile. “I’ve spent my whole life preparing for this, but I think everyone would be more comfortable if I had a little more experience. I’m twenty-six, and patient. I know my time will come.”

A pang of relief warmed my chest. Being COO of HBHC was still a demanding job, but not as bad as the role at the very top, and this meant he might not spend every waking minute in the office for the next few years. It’d give us more time together.

Below us, rush hour was winding down, and as the streets grew quiet, the sun overhead became more intense. I took a long drink of my water and set my gaze on him.

“How does it feel?” I asked softly. “All your planning is over.”

He set a hand on the glass railing, looked out over the city, and hesitated. “It feels . . . different than I expected. I dunno. Maybe it hasn’t sunk in yet.”

I heard exactly what he wasn’t saying. As much as he disliked his father, he still cared about him and there wasn’t joy in destroying him. “You know your dad’s going to be okay,” I said. Macalister wasn’t the type to sit around and lick his wounds. “He can focus on the Federal Reserve now.”

Royce turned toward me, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back against the railing. “True.”

The door to the hallway swung open, and we tensed as the tall blonde strode toward us, her Jimmy Choos beating out a swift, urgent tempo. Her expression was stricken.

“Is it true?” Alice asked. “Macalister’s out?”

“Alice.” Royce straightened, and his shoulders lifted with a reluctant breath. He felt compelled to explain. “He knew how bad Ascension was, and he bought them anyway.”

She didn’t care about the why, only the outcome, and her head snapped toward me, full of anger and disgust. “I heard Liam made you his proxy, and you used it as the deciding vote against Macalister.”

Was I supposed to feel guilty? Because I didn’t. I lifted my chin and looked defiant. “Yes.”