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He pulled the ring from the box, and his face was full of determination. “It’s yours. You will wear this.”

“No, I won’t. Take it back.”

Confusion was something I rarely saw in him, and it played out on his face, creasing his forehead. His voice went uneven. “I can’t. I believe she would have wanted you to have it.”

I froze, allowing the meaning to sink in. He wasn’t talking about Alice because he’d used the past tense. “This was Royce’s mother’s?”

“It was an early wedding gift from me. She’d said she wanted something blue to wear.” His chest expanded on a heavy breath. “Now it will be my gift to you. I’m sure it comes as little surprise that I’m not a sentimental person, but . . . I don’t give this ring lightly. It’s one of the few things of hers I’d kept just for myself.” He glanced down, examining the stunning piece of jewelry in the light streaming from the nearby window, making it throw rainbows around. “But then I thought if I did this, perhaps a part of her could be with Royce today.”

This was the man I’d seen in the library, clutching a tumbler of scotch as he mourned the death of the woman he’d loved. I was all sorts of emotional today, and unexpected tears leapt into my eyes, but I blinked them back.

“I need you to wear this ring.” And then he said the word he’d probably only used genuinely a few times in his life. “Please.”

It came from me in a rush. “Yes, of course.”

When I took it from him, our fingers brushed and—had he just let out a sigh? I slipped the ring onto the third finger of my right hand, where it fit perfectly, although it was heavier than I had expected.

We admired it together for a long, quiet moment, and I found the courage to speak.

“You did a nice thing,” I whispered. He was at war with his son, but this felt like an overture toward a truce. It was encouraging to see him care about someone other than himself.

“Your influence, I’m sure.” His gaze locked onto me and refused to let go. “When I brought you into my home, the plan was to mold you into how I thought you should be. Instead, you’ve changed me.”

My heartbeat went into double-time, and trepidation inched up my spine. I sensed it before it happened but was unable to stop him. Macalister clamped a cold hand around mine and stepped into my space, taking all the air with it. His head was tipped down so he could peer into my eyes, searching them like a missing figure was hidden inside and he just had to look hard enough.

“I have tried harder than anything else in my life to keep my distance from you. I’ve told myself I don’t care, nor do I want to change the way you feel about me, but no amount of lies will drown out the truth.”

I tried to shake off his hold, but he responded by threading a hand between my back and the veil, and when his fingertips skimmed across my bare skin, lightning sparked, and his eyes clouded with dangerous, reckless desire.

“Macalister,” I whined in a sharp, low voice so no one in the hall would overhear and come in.

“At first, my attraction was purely sexual in nature. I was consumed by the desire to get what I was owed and what you had denied me.”

His hand on my back was a tool of torture. If I tried to move away, it forced me closer to him, putting us chest to chest. The full skirt of my wedding dress crushed between us.

“Say what you mean,” I hissed. “You just wanted to win.”

There wasn’t a drop of shame in him. “Yes. But as time went by, the way I longed for you shifted and grew deeper. We have a connection, Marist. You cannot deny it. Perhaps you think I’m not good enough for you, but I know with absolute certainty Royce isn’t.”

His thumb swept across the ridge of my spine, causing me to tremble. His lips hovered so close, it’d take no effort for him to close the space and press his mouth over mine. “I understand you think you love him, but I’m only trying to protect you.”

It was my wedding day, and I was only minutes from walking down the aisle. Anger erupted inside me and spilled out, making me spit each word as a bullet. “How dare you?”

My castigation glanced off him and fell harmlessly to our feet. He was immortal and impervious.

“You’ll marry him,” he decreed. “We’ve come too far for any other outcome, but you don’t have to love him. Behind closed doors, you can be with whomever you choose, such as a man who strives for perfection, who never gives up trying to be better.” His expression was resolute. “My persistence means you and I are inevitable. We are inevitable, because I love you.”


Tags: Nikki Sloane Filthy Rich Americans Billionaire Romance