Deceit (Gallows Hill #1)

14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Skyla

I quietly follow Asher up the front steps of his father’s mansion. When we get to the top, we’re greeted with two large doors that are at least fifteen-feet tall. They appear to be hand carved wood and are absolutely stunning. I wait for Asher to push the doors open, or maybe I should? I steal a glance to see him staring at them blankly, like if he tries hard enough he could suddenly become invisible and slip away. It’s the most vulnerable I’ve seen him, his cocky ‘I rule the world’ aura gone, and not the least bit sorely missed. Still, it is a little odd to see him so off.

He closes his eyes, letting out a near silent breath before offering his arm for me. I slip my hand through the crook of his elbow, allowing it to rest as he pushes one of the doors open. Immediately, we are greeted with the sound of classical music playing throughout the mansion, accompanied by nearly one-hundred people all donned in striking suits and luxurious gowns.

Familiar faces are recognized everywhere. My eyes roam around the room before landing on Liam, his cheesy smile looking a lot more plastic than usual as he speaks with an older man and woman. In the corner I see Vincent sulking, which is no surprise there, but he is wearing a nice tuxedo so that’s definitely a shift from his typical punk style. I even see Andrew from my history class. He’s with a kind looking couple and making small talk with a few men when his eyes catch mine. His cheeks pink up as he looks at me and gives a discreet wave, before turning back to the man in front of him.

Unfortunately, the next person my eyes land on is my father who looks unbelievably irritated.

Lovely.

Asher smoothly walks us towards him, a man in front of him turning to face us with a slow smile.

“Ah, you’ve finally arrived,” the man says, his mouth moving in a way that makes my skin crawl.

Asher is practically a carbon copy of him, just twenty-five years younger. There is something else about him though, something that turns my stomach and tells me to flee far and fast. Unfortunately I can’t, instead staying perfectly silent as Asher speaks.

“Apologies for our tardiness, father. You know how women can be about being ready on time.”

I shoot him a side-eye that I hope burns him to his core while my father’s face pinches up in disgust as he steps closer to me, a dangerous air surrounding us as he does. Asher’s dad just laughs though, turning to face me as his eyes take in every inch of me. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, and I want more than anything to squirm under his gaze. I resist though, doing my best to keep my head held high and a demure smile on my face.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” I say with a nod.

He holds out his hand to me and I hesitate for a moment, until I feel a sharp pinch come from my side. I know it’s my father and I know what he’s saying.

Let him take your hand, do not embarrass me.

I slip my palm into his as he lifts it up to his mouth, before he presses his lips against my knuckles and smiles as he speaks.

“Please, call me Christopher. After all, we are going to be family.”

I give him a soft smile and wiggle my fingers in an attempt to pull my hand away, but he doesn’t seem ready to allow that to happen.

“You’re even more beautiful than your pictures,” Christopher muses, almost to himself.

My smile doesn’t slip as I nod my head once more.

“Thank you. Your home is lovely. When was it crafted? Mid-eighteenth century?” I ask.

“Early,” he says, something like interest flickering in his eyes as he tilts his head to the side. “How could you tell?”

“The architecture reminds me a lot of this home back in London. It was built in 1705, but I assumed being across the pond it would take a little longer for similar influences to reach here.”

Christopher’s smile curls, practically taking over his entire face as he speaks.

“Salem has been blessed with the finest craftsmen for some time. Have you made it down to the town museum? I’m sure you’d find it absolutely fascinating.”

History was never my passion, by a long shot, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate a beautifully built home. In my opinion, I found the way of life in England from the seventeenth to twentieth century much more interesting than America’s, but maybe I’m biased because that’s all I was taught for practically my whole life.

“I have not. I’ll have to do that.”

“Asher will take you soon.”

Christopher smiles with a cutting look to his son.

Asher nods dutifully, a lot like the way I do with my father as he speaks.

“I’d be honored.”

“Wonderful,” Christopher says, before finally releasing my hand.

He begins talking with Asher about his grades and I tune out slightly, allowing myself to people-watch. I stop on Maggie, or at least I think it’s Maggie. No way is my all black, all the time edgy, friend wearing a Pepto Bismol pink dress. Her red hair clashing with the dress as hard as her fake grin is cracking.

A good looking man and woman are on either side of her, introducing her to a handsome guy around our age. I think I have economics with him, actually. His name is Seth or Sean, something like that. He leans in, pressing his lips to her cheek in a greeting kiss and I don’t miss the way she practically cringes. Oh no, are her parents trying to set her up? With a man, no less? Do they not know? No, they have to know. She wears it loud and proud.

My brows furrow and I take a half of a step to move towards her when her eyes catch mine, subtly shaking her head as if to call me off. I frown but nod, turning back to see my father and Christopher deep in discussion. Their eyes swing to Asher, seemingly sizing him up, before Ronan steps into the group.

“Excuse me, brother. I wonder if I might show Skyla the gardens.”

Christopher grins, like it’s the best idea he’s ever heard before he nods.

“Excellent idea, Ronan. Thank you.”

I watch as Christopher turns away from me brushing me off dismissively before he begins speaking to Asher in hushed tones, my father sending me a withering glance before he’s listening and speaking as well.

I take a few steps with Ronan, before my feet slow as curiosity gets the best of me. I want to stay and listen to what they’re saying. Based on Asher’s face, it doesn’t look good. A warm strong hand is pushing me forward, though.

“Keep moving, face forward,” Ronan says as he continues walking, practically dragging me along with him.

I do as he says, turning around as we weave through the large home. A few people greet Ronan, but he’s quick to dismiss them until we make it out to a balcony at the back of the house. My breath is nearly stolen when I see a maze of rose bushes expanding over a large chunk of the backyard. You can see just the tip of what looks to be a large fountain, before everything else is hidden in the privacy of the bushes.

Ronan’s hold on me continues as he ushers us down the stairs and to the front of the maze. We enter wordlessly and he doesn’t speak until we take our first turn.

“Are you okay?”

My brows dip at that, my heels slightly sinking into the grass as we walk.

“Yes, why?”

“I told you not to be interesting.”

I look up at him as I shake my head.

“I wasn’t.”

“You were, I could see it in his eyes. He’s intrigued by you already and that’s not a good thing.”

Shrugging, I take the left turn in front of us first, moving us deeper and deeper into the garden.

“Well, I don’t know what to say. He seems…nice enough.”

Ronan stops in his tracks, his face stoic and unmoving as he speaks.

“No, he doesn’t.”

I smile sadly, shaking my head as I continue walking.

“No, he doesn’t.”

His steps continue after me, and we don’t speak again until we stop in front of the fountain. I move over to the ledge, sitting down on it before turning to watch the water flow. Ronan takes a seat beside me, his eyes on me the entire time.

My gaze moves from the fountain to him, watching as his forearms rest against his thighs.

“So, what’s this party for anyways?” I ask.

His eyebrows furrow at that as he tilts his head to the side.

“No one told you?”

I shake my head.

“This is your engagement party.”

My stomach flips and irritation rolls through me. Wow, should I honestly expect anything different? This entire arrangement has been absurd from the start. I wouldn’t be surprised if I went out to breakfast one morning and stumbled into my wedding. Apparently, I’m not important enough to be filled in on little details like this.

We’re silent for several seconds before Ronan speaks.

“He doesn’t deserve you. He never should have left you like that tonight and shouldn’t be treating you like he has.”

I shrug, breaking eye contact with those hypnotic blue eyes as I stare out into the laurel greens and pops of color woven between them.

“When my father told me I was betrothed, I didn’t anticipate meeting the love of my life or anything, but I’ll be honest, I expected to be treated with the minimum amount of respect,” I laugh bitterly, shaking my head as I do.

His palm slips underneath my chin, tilting my head to face him as he cups my face tenderly.

“You deserve so much more than that. You deserve…everything.”

I smile sadly, sinking into his touch.

“Even if I did, I’m not sure that’s in the cards for me.”

Ronan’s eyes flick back and forth between my own before they move down to my lips. I feel myself moving closer to him, inch by inch, and he doesn’t stop me. In fact, when I’m just a hair’s breadth away from him, his grip on me tightens before he closes the remaining distance between us.

All at once it’s like fireworks and ecstasy tearing through my body, as his pillowy soft lips press against my own. His hand adjusts, forcing my head to tilt back and he takes full advantage of the new position, deepening the kiss as his tongue swipes against mine. I can’t help but moan against him, my hands blindly reaching for him.

With each stroke of his tongue my pussy begins pulsing. Before I know it, I’m being lifted up and over him, settling down on top of his lap. My thighs easily straddle him and the slit in my dress allows me a lot more freedom than other dresses would.

I whimper when I feel his hard cock rub against my quickly dampening panties. Ronan’s hands grip my hips, guiding my movements as he begins grinding me against him. Soon I don’t need his guidance though, as I continue to lose myself in our kiss and use his body exactly how I want, how I need.

He breaks away from our kiss, cursing roughly as he speaks into my neck.

“Christ baby, you’re fucking soaking my pants.”

“I’m sorry,” I pant as I continue my movements, angling myself so my clit is perfectly stimulated against his cock.

“Don’t be,” he practically growls. “It’s so hot. Ride me, baby. Make that pretty little pussy come all over my suit.”

I feel myself spasm as I increase my motions, another moan slipping out of my mouth. Ronan cups the back of my head with one hand, crushing our lips together once more. His other hand grabs my ass, forcing me to grind against him harder and faster. Just when I think it can’t possibly feel better than this, I see white. Literally, my vision flashes and for a moment I’m completely blind.

Pleasure rips through my body like a hurricane, and the only saving grace in containing my screams is Ronan’s tongue that is currently tangled around mine. That euphoric feeling pricks against every inch of my skin, all the way from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I can hardly even catch my breath as our movements stop and he slowly pulls away from me, lust clouding his normally bright blue eyes.

Confliction passes across his face, and he opens his mouth to say something before we hear the sound of the door open from the balcony. We both still before I quickly scramble off his lap. Ronan goes to stand, quickly wiping at his mouth to remove my smeared lipstick. I lean over to look into the reflection of the fountain, using it as a makeshift mirror, as I clean up my makeup and reapply some more lipstick.

When I’m finished Ronan is watching me with a look that is significantly colder than before. I go to open my mouth and ask him what that was about? What does it mean? What happens next? But I don’t get the chance.

“You should get back to the party. You’ve been gone for too long. After all, you’re the guest of honor.”

Hurt stabs through me that he’s very clearly trying to brush me off, but I don’t let it show. Instead, I raise my head a little higher. Stridding back in the direction that we came from, not giving a damn if I get lost in the process.

Surprisingly, I make it out of the gardens easily enough as I slip inside the party. The noise is overwhelming with sounds of music, laughter and the clinking of glasses in cheers. My eyes land on Bridgette and a few of her friends. I’ve already had a less than stellar day and I’d rather not have an encounter with them.

There is a door to my left and I quickly dip inside before they can see me. I glance over my shoulder relieved when no one follows after me, until I hear a breathy moan. My head whips around, meeting the eyes of Liam. He’s leaning up against a large kitchen island with his hands braced against the counter, pants around his ankles and not one, but two mouths latched around his cock.

For a moment, I’m frozen in place. A woman in the caterer’s outfit is on her knees beside a man in a matching outfit. I can’t tell who is enjoying themselves more. All three of them look to be having the best time. My eyes come up to Liam only to find him watching me with a knowing smirk, before his eyes roll into the back of his head. He drops a hand to the man’s head, pushing on it encouragingly before doing the same to the woman.

For some reason, instead of being embarrassed and ashamed of walking in on such a private moment, I’m incredibly turned on. A part of me wonders how long I could stay here and just watch them. According to Liam’s smile, I’d probably guess the entire time.

Logic wins though, when I consider what my father would do if he found me in here. If anyone found me here, they’d assume I was part of this. The rumor mill would run rampant. So, I quickly turn on my heel, not giving them a backwards glance, as I slip back out to the party.