The cavernous space of the grand entryway was empty except for me. Its vaulted ceilings and ornate chandelier which was so old it probably predated electricity and had been wired since, exaggerated the feel of loneliness. This house had held generations of families, but now it was a mausoleum.
After parking my Jaguar beside the sprawling garage, I’d dashed through the light rain to the front door and hurried to punch in my access code. I wiped the damp from my face as I stepped inside, pulled off my coat, and hung both it and my purse in the closet. It’d only taken me twenty minutes to change and get here. With the rain, the typical thirty-minute drive home from Boston might take Macalister’s driver longer.
I took my phone from my purse and sat on the second step of the staircase, putting my arms around myself for warmth. Not only did this house feel like a tomb, it was as cold as one too.
There were several messages I’d missed from Penelope during my drive over. She’d wanted my approval on the best picture before posting it to Instagram, but when I’d gone radio-silent, she’d gotten anxious and made the call without me. Of the three images she’d sent, there was a clear winner, and she’d picked the correct one.
The caption she’d used was innocent. Look who I caught kissing in the rain. She hadn’t tagged Macalister in the post, but the hashtags she had used would help put it on the right people’s radar, and I amplified the signal by reposting it.
Penelope’s side hustle was photography, and she’d gotten a seat at the window in the coffee place next door to Marquee. She’d patiently waited two hours to grab that picture, and she hadn’t disappointed.
But I didn’t know how to feel about the image. Wasn’t I supposed to be happy? This was my plan, and he’d executed it just as I’d asked him to. But a spike of jealousy stabbed into my chest while my gaze traced his fingers on Evangeline’s waist, his mouth pressed against her skin.
Penelope’s timing must have been a fraction off. She’d missed the actual moment of their kiss, but the image was close enough. People discussing business did not say their goodbye this way.
As the notifications began to roll in, I could feel the buzz down in Cape Hill like a current. Look at that Macalister Hale, they were saying. Already out prowling for another wife to kill off.
Headlights glanced through the front windows, and a car rumbled up the circle drive, making me shoot to my feet and leave my heart behind on the stairs. A figure in black moved up the steps outside, the security system chirped its response, and the front door burst open.
My lungs constricted until I couldn’t breathe.
If the rain had touched Macalister, I couldn’t tell. It was more likely the raindrops were too frightened to dare fall on him, because the only gleam in his hair were the faint strands of silver. He was still dressed how I’d styled him this afternoon in the gorgeous black suit and fitted white shirt. The undone buttons at his neck relaxed the look, giving him just enough ease to not seem stuffy.
He shut the door behind him with a bang that made me flinch, but my gaze didn’t break from his. His dark, furious eyes were like gravity. He was sexiest when he was displeased with me, but the outraged expression he wore now was so hot, my knees softened.
And then he lifted a hand and pointed one long, sharp finger at the couch in the front room, shouting his order without saying a word. I wasn’t sure he would have been able to. The muscles across his jaw looked strained to their breaking point.
My heart raced along at a faster clip than my feet could match, but I reached the couch and sat obediently on the edge of it, trying not to think about how he’d kissed me in this exact spot last night. A sane person would have been terrified in this situation, but I was obviously broken because I went giddy with excitement.
It made me reckless. “How was your date?”
Macalister’s heavy footsteps slapped against the hardwood floor as he strode into the room and stood over me. “You committed me to that auction without my approval.”
I swallowed a breath. “Yeah, because if I had asked you, you would have said no. But this is good for you. It got me to close the deal with her, and—”
Color rose in his neck. “I understand your reasons. My issue is the lack of communication, which will end right now, Sophia.”
He brushed back the sides of his suit coat and put his hands on his hips. It was an assertive, confrontational posture, but all it did for me was flaunt his trim waist and powerful frame. It hinted at the curves of muscle packed beneath his expensive clothes.