“Please, have a seat,” Mr. Lynch said. He’d been the one to carry the portfolio in, which made sense. He was the chief financial officer at HBHC and the man Macalister worked the closest with.
I smoothed a hand down the back of my dress, lowered into the chair, and opened the portfolio.
Paragraphs of text filled the top half of the page, followed by ten signature lines beneath. My name first, and the nine who would make up the board after we were done in this room.
It was nearly impossible to read and comprehend the document as the men towered over me, waiting. I read through it halfway, set down my champagne flute, and tried again from the beginning. Whenever I found myself rushing, the promise I’d made to Alice echoed in my mind.
Take as much time as you need. Don’t sign what you don’t understand.
Macalister shifted his weight impatiently from one foot to the other. “Is there an issue?”
He was wondering what was taking me so long. A contributing factor was how it was all there, spelled out. It said I’d willingly consent to the board witnessing Royce and I during sexual intercourse. That since I was on birth control and Royce had submitted to a physical proving he was free of any sexually transmitted diseases, there was no need for a condom to be used.
And that I agreed to this while not under any kind of duress.
It was true. No one was making me do this.
But if I walked away, I’d give up everything. There’d be no college degree from Etonsons. No chance to save my family from social and financial ruin. And definitely no Royce Hale.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, and the necklace bobbed with it. “Can you explain this line?” I read aloud from the document. “Each board member will have an equal opportunity to evaluate the participant.”
A cold hand slipped onto my bare shoulder. “You will be naked.”
I shuddered. Perhaps I should have been grateful for Macalister’s grip because it kept me from bolting out of the chair, but his touch was unexpected. So different than his son’s.
Like everything else about this day, I’d held out hope that what I suspected wouldn’t be true. I’d feared this but expected it, especially with the insisted grooming I’d had to endure at the salon.
My voice was a ghost, too quiet to disturb the flames burning on the candles nearby. “Why?”
The fingers clenched tighter. Not enough to cause pain, just enough to remind me they were there. “So they may evaluate you visually.”
“And other ways,” Royce commented.
My blood turned to slush as Macalister tensed. The mood in the room was like the stock market had suddenly plummeted six hundred points.
“What other ways?” I demanded.
He gave his son a pointed look, irritated Royce had spoiled the fun. “Each member may use their hands and mouths.”
Hands and . . . mouths?
I went wooden, and the word came out drenched in horror. “What?”
My gaze traveled the room, as much as it could with my shoulder pinned under Macalister’s hand. The men staring back at me watched my reaction with curiosity. I was resigned to my fate with Royce, but this? Letting the rest of the board touch me? Kiss me? Just the idea of Macalister’s mouth pressed to mine made panic crawl all over me.
As he released me, his fingertips traced a line along my back. “I know you have questions, but I think everyone will feel more comfortable once you’ve signed. I can explain when that’s done.”
“No,” I blurted out. “You can explain right now.”
He didn’t like being told what to do, and certainly not by me. “If I don’t?”
I closed the portfolio and went to stand, but this time, Macalister’s grip was more forceful. “This tradition goes back a century, and it’s one you already agreed to.”
I turned under his hold so I could see Royce. He stood beside his father, wearing an unreadable expression.
“You’re all right with this?” I was filled with disbelief.
He was already okay with his dad and boss watching us together, so maybe additional stuff wasn’t that big of a deal to him. Or maybe he’d had his whole life to get used to the concept.
Or perhaps this was a cost he was willing to pay to get the seat he wanted.
Candlelight flickered over him as Royce glanced at his father, and—was that malice echoing through his expression? His gaze landed back on me, and he emptied of emotion. “I’d rather my father not be involved.”
I let out a tight breath. Removing Macalister from this part might make it . . . bearable. I tried not to look fearful as I peered up at him. “I agree with Royce.”
Everything from his expression to his words were absolute. “I am the chairman of this board. It’s my responsibility to protect its members, and therefore, my vote counts more than anyone else’s.”