Deceit (Gallows Hill #1)

13. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Skyla

I woke up the next morning to my phone ringing. I blink my eyes blearily as I pat around for my phone, glancing at the screen quickly. I immediately sit up right, clearing my throat as I run my fingers through my hair, as if he could almost judge my appearance straight through the phone.

“Good morning, Father,” I say in my most polite tone.

“Your presence is required tonight at Putnam manor.”

My mouth pulls into a grimace and my shoulders slump.

“Is it really necessary?” I ask, letting it slip out before I can stop it.

He is silent for several seconds, either out of shock that I would even slightly question him or in anger and he wants me to squirm in punishment. Either way, I’m on edge when his icy voice rumbles through the phone.

“If I say so, then it is. Be there, accompanied by your fiancée at seven o’clock sharp,” he says, ending the phone call immediately after.

A text message from an unknown number comes through, causing me to roll my eyes as I read it.

Unknown: We have to go to a party at my dad’s house. Wear something nice and stuffy like you normally do and don’t forget the ring.

My eyes lock on the black box, hiding the massive diamond ring inside. I haven’t been sheltered by life’s luxuries by any means, but the thing is downright massive. It’s a beautiful cushion cut with encrusted smaller diamonds wrapping around the band. Maybe, if it had been given to me by someone I love, someone that loves me, it would be more special. Instead, it’s more like a noose, tightening around my neck with each impending day.

Since it’s Saturday, there are no classes today and I take full advantage of staying in bed extra-long, catching up on some schoolwork. I even tried to sneak into the pool, but unfortunately for me, it was locked. When I waited for Ronan to come open the door much like last night, I was met with disappointment.

My mind flicks to the handsome, inappropriately too old and clearly off limits man. I don’t think it’s all in my head, I think he feels it too. I swear he was about to kiss me in the shower last night, or at least he wanted to. I know I sure as hell wanted him to.

Is it really so bad to lust after your fiancé’s uncle, if said fiancé is a grade A asshole? Maybe, but I can’t seem to stop myself all the same.

I spend the day working on my English lit paper and some homework for history until I can hardly see straight. Thankfully, after a ridiculously late lunch, it’s time to start getting ready. I’m just, honestly looking forward to getting this night over as soon as possible.

Due to the time of the event and my inferring of how similarly these people live their lives to my father, I decide a sophisticated dress is the perfect option for tonight. I decided on a black floor- length gown. One sleeve is full-length, ending just at my wrist while the other side is strapless. It does have a thigh slit that goes up to stop a few inches below my hip, but the overall modesty of the top makes it an even balance. That’s what I told myself when I bought it, at least. We will see if my father has a conniption when he sees me in it.

I accompany the gown with a modest pair of black heels and pearl teardrop earrings, sliding on the gaudy diamond ring last. I almost cringe at it knowing my fate is sealed, all because of this five-carat gem.

A text message comes through in the next moment.

Asshole Fiancé: Outside. Hurry up or I’ll leave you.

And they say chivalry is dead.

Rolling my eyes, I grab my black clutch and put my things inside, going out of my way to remember my room key before I leave. As soon as I step outside my dorm building, I notice a black Maserati parked in the walkway, literally. He’s parked cockeyed and blocking the main entrance of the building. It’s the type of arrogance that says, I’m too lazy to park in the parking lot and walk like a normal person.

When I get closer to the car the door opens, swinging up instead of out. Tucking the long skirt of the dress behind myself, I slide into the leather seat easily before the door comes back down, officially locking me inside.

Asher is in the driver’s seat, his brown hair perfectly styled, not a strand of hair out of place while wearing a crisp black Armani suit. He looks like he stepped right out of a magazine and I’m not sure how to feel about it. On one hand, I wish he would be as ugly on the outside as he clearly is on the inside. On the other hand, if I have to marry anyone at least it’s someone who is pleasing to the eye I suppose.

His eyes rake over me, an unimpressed sneer pulling at his lips before he puts the car into drive and takes off down the walkway. Granted, there are no pedestrians right now, but what if there were! He’d run them over dead and not lose a wink of sleep, I’ll bet.

As we speed down the road I scoff to myself, smoothing out my slick bun in the side mirror as he turns at a light. I don’t have time to brace myself and I smash my face against the window before shooting him a lethal glare.

“What is your problem?” I ask.

“Currently, you,” he snaps curtly, as he sails down the road.

“Okay, can we drop the bullshit at least for tonight? Please. I don’t know what your dad is like, but my dad is expecting us to be loving and affectionate towards one another.”

“You always do what daddy tells you?” Asher asks, with an unimpressed brow.

“Always, as I’m sure you know. He’s a hard man to say no to and before you judge me, you’re the one in the monkey suit picking me up at my door. If I had to guess, I’d say you’re just as trapped as I am.”

He lets out a hollow laugh, shaking his head as he turns away from me.

“You and I are nothing alike.”

I nod in agreement on that when my eyes snag on something. A perfectly shaped red pair of lips are pressed against his neck, just barely visible past his collar.

“Seriously? You couldn’t even wash off your whore’s lipstick before you picked me up?” I scoff.

Asher looks in the rear view mirror, turning his head so he can see his neck before he shrugs. He is clearly unbothered.

“Someone’s gotta suck my dick and I know it’s not gonna be you.”

Embarrassment flushes through me at his callousness and I grit my teeth together before speaking.

“Let me out.”

He keeps driving, blatantly ignoring me and I lose it. I take my clutch and begin smacking his arm with it, shouting over and over again.

“Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!”

“Ow, fuck! Stop,” he snaps, as he tries to continue driving while holding back my arms.

In desperation, I do the only thing I can, and I sink my teeth into his wrist. He lets out a rough curse and yanks his arm away from me before whipping the wheel to the side. We pull over with a screech as he turns to face me, a wild look of rage in his eyes.

“Get the fuck out!”

“Gladly,” I shout with a toss of my hands, pushing my way out of the car and onto the pavement in the next second.

I’m barely out of the car before he takes off, the door slowly lowering as he speeds down the road. Good freaking riddance. Letting out an irritated breath, I shake my head before looking around. Damnit. I don’t know where I am, and I don’t know where I’m going. Even if I order a ride, it’s not like my driver is going to know where Putnam Manor is.

My heels begin clicking against the paved road as the sun dips low, bathing the city in darkness. I’m not sure what direction to head in but straight seems like a good bet, at least for now. Maybe I’ll just call my father. He won’t be happy, but maybe he’ll take his anger out on the one that rightfully deserves it– my manwhore fiancé.

Several cars pass me by, veering uncomfortably close before one slows down altogether. A rush of fear pangs through my body as I subtly look over my shoulder. The passenger window rolls down before a familiar voice calls out to me.

“Skyla?”

My head whips around to see Ronan watching me with a pinched look. In the next moment, he’s shutting off his car and jogging around the front of it to stand beside me. His eyes roam over me from head to toe, heat licking at my skin in their wake. When his blue eyes settle on me, they’re practically on fire. I watch as he closes them, squeezing hard, before seemingly shaking off whatever he’s thinking as he looks at me with concern.

“What are you doing out here?”

I roll my eyes and shake my head.

“Asher took off.”

“He just left you,” Ronan asks sharply, blinking slowly like he can’t be hearing me right.

“To be fair, I told him to let me out when I saw the smeared lipstick on his neck,” I shrug, with a defeated sigh.

Ronan doesn’t say anything again before I speak.

“It’s an arranged marriage, obviously we don’t love or even like each other, but I have a problem with arriving at an event on the arm of my supposed fiancé, who is donning another woman’s lip shade. It’s disrespectful and embarrassing. It looks like I’m not enough to hold a man’s attention. I just—”

A large hand cups my own, his thumb brushing against my knuckles before stopping on the ginormous rock on my left hand.

“You’re more than enough. Asher is rebelling and taking it out on you. It’s not fair but I hope you know it’s not personal.”

For some reason, his words help a little, I guess. Maybe I’m too much of a people-pleaser, hardwired to crave the acceptance of those around me. I’m sure my life would be easier if I didn’t care what anyone thought of me. I’m still working on that part.

“C’mon, we’re going to be late,” he says, as he rests his hand on my lower back, ushering me towards his car.

I nod and accept the gesture before sliding inside. The familiar scent of leather and something musky and delicious wraps around me as he slides into the driver’s seat. He gives me a small, almost reassuring smile before taking off down the road.

“Did Asher prepare you?” Ronan asks after a minute or so.

“Prepare me for what?”

“Tonight.”

I shrug, shaking my head in response. Ronan nods, his knuckles tightening slightly as he speaks.

“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, Salem is…different. We have a hierarchy of sorts and Asher’s dad is at the top.”

“Does that mean you are too?” I question.

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t quite work like that. It’s like the royal family. It’s always going to be the king and the heir that’s of the most importance, yeah?”

I nod.

“My brother can be…challenging, and first impressions are everything. Be respectful but silent. Only speak when spoken to and don’t seem too interesting.”

“Why not?” I say, with a raised brow.

Ronan’s eyes come to my own, a hollowed look entering them as he speaks.

“Because he loves people who are interesting.”

Something about the way he says that sends a chill down my spine. My head moves up and down in acceptance as we ride the rest of the way in silence.

When we arrive, we pull up a long paved driveway, surrounded by large bushy trees. The front gate has the name Putnam carved into it, like it has been here for generations before Ronan parks in the looped driveway. A valet hurries over to us, taking the keys as Ronan opens my door for me and takes my hand to help me out.

“Thank you,” I say, as he dips his head and releases my hand.

A figure leans up against the large stone column outside the grand staircase, a lit cigarette in his fingers as we close the distance between us and him. When Ronan speaks, I’m taken back by the pure anger in his tone.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” he snarls. “You leave your fiancée stranded on the side of the road?”

Asher rolls his eyes, taking a long drag of his cigarette as he does.

“It’s not my fucking fault. She wanted to get out. What was I supposed to do, drag her ass back kicking and screaming?”

“No,” Ronan snaps, smacking the cigarette out of his hand and crushing it beneath his heel. “You’re not going to lay a goddamn finger on her unless she has given verbal permission.”

Once again, Asher’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he pushes away from his uncle.

“Whatever.”

Ronan is fast to stop Asher, clasping his shoulder tightly as he speaks.

“I’m serious, Asher. I can only protect you for so long. With…” he pauses for a moment, his eyes coming to me before he continues in a more hushed tone. “Everything, aligning the way it is, you have to be better.”

“Maybe, I’m tired of it,” Asher draws out.

“You don’t get to be, and you know that. So throw your little fit later. When you’re here, you are respectful, you will display an insurmountable level of couth and you won’t fight with your fiancée .”

Ronan grits that last word out, like it tastes bitter on his tongue before he looks at the both of us. He nods, asking if we are good, before he straightens his suit jacket and begins his ascent up the stairs. Asher and I don’t move an inch, though. We are both staring at each other, not talking, not moving before he blows out a breath and wipes a hand down his face.

“C’mon,” he says, almost defeatedly. “We’re already late.”