THIRTEEN
SHOCK MADE ME GO BONELESS. My knees softened into nothing, and as I sagged, Macalister was there to keep me upright, his hands cold and splayed across my back.
“No,” I cried in a horrified whisper. “You can’t.”
“And yet, I do.” He looked confident as ever, saying it the same way he’d tell me money was green and his last name was Hale.
My hands were balled into fists with my forearms pressed to his shirt, and my muscles ached to move and beat my fists against his chest. It was so exceptionally cruel, I couldn’t breathe. I’d longed to hear one Hale tell me those words and mean it, and instead the universe had sent me another.
A tear spilled out and rolled down my cheek, but I was too shaky to do anything about it. Macalister moved to cup my face and hold me steady, and to my horror, he leaned in until there was no space left. He kissed my cheek, tasting my tear.
I finally found my strength and shoved him away, tripping over my long skirt and nearly falling over. I didn’t give a fuck who heard me now, and the sharp, angry word burst from my lips. “No. Get out.”
Beneath my skin, his kiss burned and stung, and I wiped at my cheek, trying to soothe the invisible mark away.
He straightened, and something like hurt flitted over his expression, but then it hardened. “He doesn’t love you. You’re nothing more than a cog in his master plan.”
“Get the fuck out.”
Oh, Macalister didn’t like that at all. His face soured, and aggression flared in his eyes. “If you don’t believe me, I suggest you ask him about his relationship with Dr. Galliat.”
I flashed back to the awkward reaction Selene’s father had when Royce appeared in Emily’s hospital room. The coincidence was hard to ignore. Was there a kernel of truth to what Macalister was saying? I shook my head, shutting down and trying to prevent an even worse overload. This was calculation. A strategic move he’d made to try to win the game of my heart, and I wasn’t going to allow it. Instead, I exacted a dark, cold demeanor and spoke in a language he understood.
“If you don’t leave this room right now, there will be serious and devastating consequences.”
It was subtle, the way he flinched and began his retreat. “I am sorry if hearing the truth upset you.” He gave me a final look, noting how I was shaking with adrenaline and a wide range of emotions, the strongest one being rage, and tipped his head to me in farewell. “I’m leaving this room, but you are smart enough to know I’m not going anywhere.”
I stood like a statue as he opened the door, walked out, and pulled it closed behind him. My blood was thundering in my ears, but I heard him tell my waiting family I needed a minute to compose myself. At least he’d done me that favor. It gave me time to drag air painfully into my lungs and press my shanking hand to my throat and the diamond necklace there.
They said the fall from heaven was painful, but I didn’t know going up to join the gods was going to be as well. Was I even going to survive it?
At some point, the door creaked open, and Emily peeked her head in. She gave me a once-over, her eyes widened, and she pushed into the room, announcing to everyone in the hall that I’d be out in a minute.
Seeing me in whatever state I was in made my sister go white. “What’s wrong? Is it something with Royce?”
I was still struggling to catch my breath. “No.”
“What did Macalister say to you?”
“He . . .” I couldn’t tell her. There was too much, and my shame was too great. I closed my eyes and set my fingertips to my forehead.
She gasped. “What is that?”
When she seized my right hand, I understood what she was asking about. Her stunned gaze traced the huge blue stone and the half-moon diamonds on either side.
“It was Royce’s mother’s.”
“Oh,” she said wistfully. “That’s wonderful.” She looked at me with an understanding look, like she believed this was why I was so emotional.
And like a coward, I let her.
My father and I stood in the sunroom at the back of the Hale house, sweating despite the air conditioning. It would only get hotter when we stepped out onto the patio and began the long walk down the stone stairs into the garden, and then up the aisle to where my groom waited. And there’d be five hundred pairs of eyes on us as we did it, which was likely why my father looked ill.
At least I’d had some practice. Not only had I broken in my Manolos going up and down the steps numerous times the last week, but I’d been at the top of that same staircase nearly a year ago with Royce and withstood the scrutiny of Cape Hill’s high society when I was a nobody.