I had no idea if he meant what he’d said . . .
Or if it was a lie.
He could be in his prince persona, only saying it because if he didn’t, the repercussions would be disastrous. Sophia would start a whisper campaign within the hour that our fairytale wasn’t exactly as it seemed.
“You two are adorable,” she said. “I just came by to say ‘hi’ and tell you I love your mask, Marist. Can we grab a picture together?”
“Uh . . .”
Like last time, she didn’t wait. She pushed in between Royce and me, held her phone up, and prepared to take the selfie. “Smile!”
The version of myself on her screen looked normal, but beneath my dress, my knees knocked together. She captured all three of us smiling, the fireworks lighting up behind us. Satisfied, she lowered the phone, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. A blast of cold hit me like someone had opened a freezer door, and although I didn’t want to, my attention was pulled that direction.
Macalister was on the balcony, coming toward us like he was on the hunt. Or perhaps he was the Minotaur, even though his mask was pushed back on his head, revealing his full face. All the conversations going on around us ceased. Every pair of eyes was on him instead of the bursts of gold in the sky. They lit him in warm flashes.
“See what I mean?” Sophia whispered seductively before floating away. She was gone by the time Macalister reached us.
“Why are you hiding out here?” he asked.
Royce’s lips pressed into an irritated line. “We’re not hiding, we’re watching the fireworks.”
That was the moment Macalister Hale realized there were fireworks going off over the harbor. Maybe he didn’t know about them beforehand, as Alice had been responsible for the gala planning. He gazed up at them and watched the grand finale with a critical eye, but when it was over and the crowd who’d gathered to watch gave their applause, he looked pleased.
It was as if the show had given him more power. “Marist, may I have a dance?”
“No,” Royce said.
His voice was cold and deadly. “I don’t recall asking you.”
Before Royce could say anything else, I put a calming hand on his arm, and my tone to his father was firm. “No, thank you.”
Macalister’s expression was hard to read. Was he angry? Or just disappointed? “Very well. In that case, you two should make your final rounds. Royce, you’ll be needed after. Since most of the board is here, it’s the perfect opportunity to discuss an acquisition I think is in HBHC’s best interest.”
Royce made a face. “You think we should try to acquire someone now? With the stock already down?” He was skeptical. “That’s going to be a tough sell. Who’s the target company?”
There was no mistaking Macalister’s insidious smile. “Ascension.”
Oh, shit.
He knew.
TWENTY
MY HAND RESTED ON THE RAILING, and instinctively it clenched. Macalister had figured out Royce was planning to buy Ascension, and he was cutting his son off at the knees. Without that company, Royce had no shot at taking over HBHC. All those years he’d toiled to bring this into fruition, and now it was . . .
Gone.
A sickening feeling overwhelmed me. I was sinking into the bay. I didn’t know how Macalister had figured the plan out. That information certainly hadn’t come from me, but . . . would Royce believe that?
I hadn’t been wearing his ring when I’d asked him about Ascension.
There was no reaction from him. The revelation had turned him into a statue. He didn’t blink and didn’t seem to be breathing either. My heart was beating fast enough for both of us.
Finally, he sighed, but it felt forced. Like he was trying to act natural. “The rest of the board won’t go for it.”
“You’re underestimating how convincing I can be.”
Royce narrowed his gaze. “You want to tank our shares even more, go right ahead. You’ll have a revolt on your hands, and as the second largest shareholder, keep in mind I’ll be leading the charge.”
Macalister waved the comment off. “We’ll discuss it, but I’m thinking about the long-term. This is a smart move.”
There was so much subtext there, he might as well have come out and said he wanted to buy Ascension simply to prevent his son from doing it. I despised how smug he looked about the whole thing. Pleased with himself.
He glanced at his watch. “We have fifteen minutes before we’re due in the business office. I had the team set up in there.” He tugged at his shirt sleeves, straightening the shirt beneath his jacket. “Marist, I’ve called a car for you. When I return home later, we can replay our game of chess since we didn’t get a chance to finish our last one.”