Page 16 of Backlash

“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 that he has to strain to hear me. It will make it all that much harder for him. “You’re mistaking loyalty for abuse. You don’t think of your wife, your sister, even your daughter, as anything more than possessions. That’s why you treat them the way you do, because they aren’t worth the upkeep. But objects can be lost, Malcolm. They can be taken.”

His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I’ve managed to shock him into silence. Even the great Malcolm MacLaine has no retort, no snide order, no cutting aside. I’ve found his weakest point and buried a knife into it. He wants to see the women in his life as commodities, investment pieces, and bargaining chips, just like his father. They’re not his family, they’re assets on a list.

And what happens when a sister stops falling in line with the conditions of being a MacLaine? Or when a wife shows her true colors in front of a business associate? What happens when an asset becomes a liability?

“Don’t worry. I’ll show myself out.” I leave him to piece back together the shreds of his worldview. He won’t get far. I came here to destroy the MacLaine family. Now I understand there’s no point in doing that. They destroyed themselves a long time ago, devoured themselves from within and left the rest to rot. All that’s left now is to root out their poison from this place, this city, and the woman I love.

I just have to find her first.

Adair

The Past

I could kill Poppy. First, she can’t take a hint and plans this stupid party. Then, she makes me open presents for an hour while Sterling apparently drank with Cyrus, and now, she brought up his present!

“But my dad’s out of town,” I say to him gently. “I thought you would stay the night…” I hope the implication is clear. My offer still stands. I wish he hadn’t been drinking, but I can’t exactly blame him. Plus, I’ve been pumping myself up for this all week. Poppy knows this. I confided as much to her when I decided I was ready to sleep with him.

There’s a long pause. Sterling stares fixedly at me without saying a thing.

“Sterling—” I begin.

“Don’t bother,” he slurs the last words. “I think I better go, Lucky. You have enough new toys to play with.”

“I don’t want those,” I coax, wrapping an arm around him and pressing my body against his. “Let me make it up to you.”

His angry look turns blank, like his processing time has slowed, then he shoots me a crooked grin. “That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

“It can still be like that,” I promise.