“What about my sister? It sounds like you got what you wanted.” So much for him claiming she wasn’t for sale. He’d sell her body and soul right now if I handed him back the keys to his kingdom.
“I want Adair to be happy. If she wants to be an editor, let her. If she wants to have her own place, let her. You don’t own her.”
“And you do?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Because you came here asking to buy her. You said you’d trade the company for her. Does she know that?”
“Yes,” I lie.
Now I have to find Adair before he does. I need time to explain my plan before she hears it from him. Blood may be thicker than water, but MacLaine blood runs hotter than whiskey. My only chance of keeping this under control is to be the first person she hears this from.“Your father liked to think he owned people,” I continue. “He was so obsessed with holding power over people that he never saw the bigger picture.”
“What’s that?”
“Power, wealth, control—none of it means shit when you’re dead.”
A muscle in Malcolm’s jaw ticks. “I think maybe you should leave.”
“There’s nothing I want here, anyway.”
“Really? You came back for a reason. Obviously, my father didn’t pay you off well enough,” Malcolm snarls.
So he doesn’t know what happened. That’s how meaningless I was in Malcolm’s eyes. I assumed Adair felt the same until recently. Now? I’m no longer sure. What I do know is that there is no amount of money or status or power that his son can offer me to change my mind now. I may love Adair, but I hate the MacLaines and I always will. “He didn’t pay me at all.”
“Is that the problem? Is that what it will take for you to leave my family alone?”
“That depends.” There’s nothing he can offer me, but I’m curious what it’s worth to him. “Are you lumping Adair into your family? She seems to have abandoned you.”
“Adair will come back. She’s a MacLaine.” He sounds so sure of himself. It’s the misplaced confidence of someone who hasn’t heard the word no enough in his life.
But I know two things: Adair doesn’t want to come back here and I won’t let her. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“She understands that her family is the most important thing—”
“Don’t bother selling me the lies you’ve tricked her into believing,” I interrupt before I can hear more of his egocentric bullshit. “I’m going to help her see that she has more—that she deserves more—than being held down by the MacLaine name.”
“Adair will never burn that bridge,” he says. “Neither will you.”
“I’ll help her light the match and then I’ll pour gasoline on your funeral pyre. Don’t fuck with me.” I take two steps, bringing myself nose to nose with him. Adrenaline pumps through me. He thinks he knows me, because he thinks I’m like him: desperate to hold on to my wealth and my power. I took a risk coming back here, but the reward will be worth it.
Ginny waltzes past with a bouquet of freshly cut roses. She stops in her tracks when she spots us. There’s a moment of hesitation — panic flickers over her face — but just as quickly she’s composed and back to being a Stepford wife. “Why are you shouting?”
“It’s none of your business,” Malcolm snarls at her.
She winces but recovers quickly, lifting her chin in the air. Hatred burns in her dark eyes. Maybe she’s not as beholden to him as I thought. “What happens in this house is my business.”
“This is between myself and Mr. Ford,” he says a bit more gently.
But she shakes her head. “If it has to do with this family, then—”
“Ginny, when I want your opinion, I will tell you what it is!” he roars.
“Is that so? Then you can run the whole house!” She shoves the roses into his arms, petals falling to the floor from sheer force, and storms away.
“Maybe she should burn some bridges, too,” I say dryly.
“My wife is as loyal as my sister. I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand loyalty,” Malcolm says. “Foster kid. College drop-out. Discharged from the Marine Corps. Most of your file is sealed, which means you did something wrong.”
“All that work and the investigator didn’t tell you I was at your wedding. You need better people.” I flash him a smug smile. It looks like someone finally did his homework. He knows who I am — or what I let the world know about me, at least. Most of it is public record. Anyone can find out my mother is dead, and that I dropped out of school. That’s only part of the picture, though. No one gets to see the rest. They don’t get to know why I am those things, and they definitely don’t get to know how much of my true identity resides there.
“At least I have people. At least I understand the importance of family.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Malcolm. If you want to know the importance of family, ask a man who’s never had one. I know what it’s like to have no one, which means I can recognize a man who’s alone in the world, no matter how many people he surrounds himself with.” I edge closer to him and lower my voice so
