Deceit (Gallows Hill Book 1), page 1
Copyright © 2024 by Katelyn Taylor
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
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Trigger Warning
As always, please protect yourself and your mental health when opening a new book. Some of the triggers included in this book are, but not limited to:
Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Scenes, Forced Medical Intervention (BC), Bullying, Cheating (Not on the FMC) Spanking, Graphic Torture, Dismemberment, Sharing, Branding
Dedication
To the spooky babes who want an extra three helpings of cock, this one is definitely for you.
Prologue
Welcome to Gallows Hill University.
The history of Salem, Massachusetts is not what we are known for, it is who we are.
Born in the ashes of evil, a society was formed, impassioned to protect the righteous and holy from the vengeance of the sentenced and their descendants.
Prove your loyalty, and you shall be given the world. Betray our trust, our secrets and our sacrifices and you will follow the path of the wicked; charred and beneath the dirt.
We look forward to your membership and cooperation.
Chapter One
Skyla
“I’m taking the airwrap as a sign of protest!” I shout down the hallway.
My aunt Steph shouts back to me as she makes her way down the hall.
“The hell you are! That was my birthday present from you,” she laughs before peeking inside the doorway.
Her blonde hair is only a few shades darker than my own and her eyes aren’t the same as mine or my mom’s. Instead of the deep emerald green I inherited, she got my grandfather’s hazel eyes that look absolutely mesmerizing against her creamy skin.
“What can I say, I have excellent taste,” I tease before my smile slowly dims.
I turn away from her, bending down as I rifle through the bathroom cabinets, knowing I’ve grabbed everything that is mine. I just don’t have it in me to turn around and let her witness me fall apart for the ninth time this morning alone.
She bends down beside me, rubbing a soothing hand up and down my back. It helps a little, balming the hurt from what comes next, the only way a parent should be able to. Aunt Steph is so much more than that, though. She isn’t my biological mom, but she might as well be in every sense of the word.
I was three when my mom passed away. Boating accident, I guess. Though I only have one or two hazy memories of her, Steph tells me stories about her often. Steph was her younger sister and to her, my mom hung the moon.
When it was time for me to start boarding school here in London my father had no qualms about sending me away without a single friend, family or even parting look. Aunt Steph wouldn’t allow it, though. She was somehow able to convince him to allow her to move with me.
From three-years-old to nineteen, I’ve lived in this flat just down the road from my school. All of my friends are here, my memories. Every Christmas and birthday started around this brick fireplace and every batch of diet breaking cookies were baked in this kitchen. The flat was nothing compared to the mansion that awaited me back home in Massachusetts, or what most kids were living in when they were on break here in London, but it was ours and it breaks me that I have to leave it all behind.
“You’ll visit often, it’ll be okay.” Steph smiles through watery tears.
I swallow roughly, shaking my head as I speak.
“Why won’t you just come with me? Please? All you ever do is complain about England anyways, ‘It’s too cold, it’s too busy. The beer is warm, and the food is weird,’” I say, in my best imitation of her whining.
She rolls her eyes but pushes my shoulder to the side with a smirk.
“I do not sound like that.”
“You most certainly do,” I laugh.
Smiling sadly, she shakes her head.
“We’ve talked about this, Sky. I just got that new job at the firm. I’ve worked really hard to get here, I don’t want to throw that away.”
I knew I was being selfish by wanting her to come with me, but who can blame me? It’s like I’m losing a parent all over again, one I actually remember.
A sharp knock comes from the front door, sending my stomach plummeting before we share a look. Without a word, we move into the living room where my half a dozen bags are packed. My entire life being stuffed into a luggage set, destined for its new home at Gallows Hill University.
It was always the plan that once I graduated I would attend there, I just didn’t realize how fast everything would go by. Maybe I’d feel less devastated by it all if my father and I were closer or friendly in any meaning of the word.
He’s not a cruel man, he’s just…aloof. Unbothered by pretty much anything that doesn’t have to do with his precious company or the stock market. It’s how he made his grand fortune, and he loves them like one would love a child, or more so in our case.
Now, I know I sound like the typical dramatic nineteen-year-old with daddy issues, but who could blame me? The man only shows up once a year, every year, on my birthday. He takes me to dinner, makes uncomfortable small talk about my studies and then he’s gone the same night. I didn’t understand it as a kid, I didn’t get why he didn’t want to spend time with me, why he didn’t love me like the other kid’s parents did. Eventually, I accepted it and now, I’m indifferent altogether.
Obviously, indifference isn’t a fantastic feeling when I’m going to be living with the man. Maybe this will be what we need to have a functioning relationship, though I’m not holding my breath.
Steph opens the front door, and two men that I recognize as my father’s personal security step inside before he files in after them. I’ve asked him a few times why he never goes anywhere without them, it’s not like he’s the president or anything, he’s never answered, though. Either he doesn’t want to answer, or he doesn’t feel I’m worthy of the wasted breath, either way I stopped my interest in really anything to do with him a long time ago.
“Stephanie,” he says, in a superior tone as he lifts his chin to her.
“Henry,” she responds, in a tone that is equally respectful but holds a touch of contempt.
He doesn’t appear to hear it or doesn’t care before he faces me, his eyes raking over me like he’s looking for a single hair out of place. He won’t find one, though. I know how he is. The man takes OCD to a new level and appearance is everything to Henry Parris.
My white shorts come down to my mid-thigh and my pin-striped dress shirt is tucked into them. There isn’t a wrinkle out of place on this balmy London day, my hair perfectly smoothed and straightened.
I stand still, awaiting his evaluation to be complete when he finishes with a satisfied nod and a stoic face.
“The plane is waiting,” he says, turning on his heel and walking out the door, his security carrying my bags as they follow after him.
A ripple of defiance stirs inside of me and though I know it will implode my life itself, I want nothing more than to tell him to leave without me. That I have no intention of getting on that plane and will proceed to live my life the way I and only I desire. Of course, I don’t say or do any of that. Like the good daughter I am, I keep my mouth shut, lower my head and walk out the door after him. I only stop for half a moment, turning and hugging Steph with everything I have. She holds me tighter, whispering that she will call soon, and I hold onto that, desperately.
I don’t know exactly what awaits me back in Salem, but I know it won’t be nearly as wonderful as the life I’ve lived here.
We are in the air, slicing through the early morning sky like a hot knife through butter when my father sets down his phone, his signature gaudy silver ring glinting in the light as he looks up at me across from the coffee table between our chairs.
“You’re getting married.”
I don’t think I hear him correctly, so I wait for him to continue whatever sentence he was actually trying to say. He doesn’t say a word, though. Instead, he just stares at me like I’m the one who is supposed to respond.
“I beg your pardon?” I ask, in the most demure voice I can muster.
“You’re engaged to be married. The date has been set, June twenty-third.”
I blink at him slowly, doing my best to keep my tone light and my question simple.
“And, who am I expected to marry?”
“Asher Putnam.”
“Who is that?” I practically scoff, biting my tongue as soon as I do.
The impartial mask he was wearing slips away as he narrows his eyes at me.
“Your fiancé. That’s all you need to know.”
Well, I’ve already upset him. Might as well bring it home.
“I’m too young to get married. I’m only nineteen. I just turned nineteen. I can’t get married, especially to a man I haven’t even met.”
“I’m aware, Skyla, which is exactly why you will spend as much time with him during your time at Gallows Hill. I’ve arranged your schedules to coincide as much as possible, and his father has ensured he will stay on campus so that you two can get to know one another.”
I pause at that.
“Wait, I’m not staying at the house?”
He rolls his eyes like I’m being stupid.
“Of course not. You will be staying in a dorm, same as all of
“I just assumed that because Aunt Steph and I—”
“The only reason I allowed you to live off-campus was because of Stephanie’s insistence and my disinterest over the subject. However, Gallows Hill University is my alma mater, all eyes will be on the both of us and it is crucial that we do not disappoint,” he says, his meaning clear.
That you don’t disappoint. Henry Parris could never disappoint anyone, he’s perfect. I’m the daughter he’s practically hidden away since birth.
I’ve done enough research on Gallows Hill to know that it is an elitist school. Invitation only and it churns out some of the most influential and important people to America’s society over the last three-hundred-years. Two presidents, five governors, one tech mogul and countless prestigious judges, lawyers, scientists and doctors. All circling back to this university. It’s the best of the best and I have to go there. No, get to.
“I won’t disappoint you,” I promise, lowering my eyes as a form of respect that he seems to enjoy.
He nods, reaching his palm out and patting the back of my hand twice.
“Good. Be the respectable young woman you were raised to be, get to know your fiancé and trust no one else. The Putnam men are good people. They will protect you.”
Nodding my head, I turn to look out the window. I assume he means Asher’s father as well, since this is very clearly an arranged marriage. I don’t know why I’m so surprised. He has hinted at the idea of an arranged marriage for quite some time. I just always thought he was joking or at least I had hoped. The man doesn’t have a joking bone in his body, though, so this is really on me.
My cage must look so pretty to others on the outside, all gilded and shiny. Make no mistake, though, bars are bars. I’ll never be free to make my own choices, to live my own life. My fate was sealed the moment I was born, and my birth certificate signed with the last name Parris.
I’ve talked with Steph about it for years, spoke about running away, begged her to come with me. Each time I did though, her face would pale, and she made me promise I would never say those things again, that I would never do those things. If it wasn’t for her, for fear of never seeing her again and maybe for fear of what my father would do to her if I did disobey him, I’d have been gone a long time ago.
So instead, here I am flying away from the only home I have ever truly known, to an unknown man and an unknown place.
I’m thrilled.
Chapter Two
Skyla
Istayed at my father’s home last night when we landed, but first thing the next morning, my bags were packed in the car and I was being chauffeured across the city to my new home. As soon as we arrived something rippled through me. It wasn’t necessarily fear. It was almost something… foreboding. A feeling of being unwelcomed. Then again, that could just be my unease with this entire situation.
The campus is breathtaking, though. Large grand buildings that look more like cathedrals than university buildings line either side of the courtyard. Large pillars stand on either side of each entrance, an obvious display of wealth and history. My eyes skate up the sharp peaks and steep rooflines of my dorm building, practically black stained glass windows adorning each ridgeline.
My father assured me that Asher would be waiting in my dorm to welcome me and introduce himself. I can’t lie that as I stand in the elevator, watching as each level lights up, my anxiety ratchets. What will he be like? Is he kind? Does he want to be in this engagement or is he being forced like I am?
When the elevator reaches the last floor, level seven, I step out of it and walk until I find my room. The door is wider than others and it’s at the very corner of the hallway. Taking out the keycard that my father gave me this morning at breakfast, I wave it against the card reader much like a hotel before pushing it open.
My eyes widen and my mouth drops at the sight before me. I expected your average dorm room with a few extra amenities inside. After all, my father went here, as well as my mother and aunt Steph. She told me a lot about the school, how it was grand in ways other schools could never be. I assumed she meant the historic gothic architecture of the buildings outside that more closely resemble a castle, or maybe the sprawling land it sits on that seems to go for miles. I had no idea she was talking about plush leather couches, full kitchens and what looks to be an en suite to my left.
I also didn’t expect to walk into my new dorm and find a naked woman bent over a queen sized bed as a man’s bare ass thrusts into her savagely. The noises she’s making has me shifting uncomfortably as he slaps the side of her ass and continues. I’m not a prude by any means, but I’d also be lying if I said I was experienced. Being forced to attend an all-girls boarding school and not being allowed out of an adult’s supervision at all times made the whole engaging with the men thing virtually impossible.
The girl turns her head to look around the man, giving me a satisfied grin that makes my stomach turn. I spin on my heel as I head for the door. Obviously I was given the wrong room number. I’m stopped in my tracks almost immediately though, when a deep voice calls out to me.
“Where are you going?”
I don’t turn around, continuing to stare at the doorway as I speak.
“Sorry. I must have the wrong room. I’m Skyla Parris.”
I hear a deep groan and a breathy whimper come from behind me and I take another step to leave when he speaks again.
“Stay,” he practically commands. “You,” he says, as I glance behind me only to find him staring at the girl beneath him. “Get dressed and get the fuck out of here.”
She does as he says happily, smiling the entire time she slips on her dress and heels. Running a hand through her hair, she leans in to press a kiss to his lips, but he easily dodges her, gripping her arm in his hand as he escorts her to the open doorway, slamming the door in her face.
Wow, harsh.
His pants are securely fastened by now, and his forehead is dotted with small beads of sweat as he turns to look at me. His short dark brown hair and matching brown eyes are nearly the same color, his sharp jawline looking like it was carved from marble.
I watch as his full pink lips twist up into a scowl as he speaks.
“Why are you staring at me?”
I startle at his question, fastening my eyes to the floor as I respond.
“I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment before he begins circling me, much like a predator does to his prey.
“So, you’re the Parris princess.”
I frown at that, my eyes tracking him as he continues to slowly circle me.
“What? I’m not a princess. I’m—”
“You are on this campus, Princess, and I’m the king.”
Tilting my head to the side, my face pinches in confusion.
“So, on this campus, I’m your daughter?”
He pauses for a moment before his face is slashed with irritation.
“Fucking smartass. My father told me you were a good girl. Quiet, obedient. Guess he was wrong.”
His father? So this must be—
“Asher?” I question.
“Is that a question?” He asks with a lifted eyebrow.
My eyes roam over him, his wide shoulders and lean muscles a stark contrast from who I expected. I’m not really sure what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t…him. His smug attitude is really starting to irritate me though, and before I can stop myself, I speak.
“Disappointed more so. What can you do? Life is full of them,” I shrug.
Fire rages in his chocolate brown eyes before he reaches into his pocket, throwing a jewelry box at my chest. I make no move to catch it, allowing it to fall to the ground as he sneers.
“Put it on and don’t take it off,” before he’s storming out of my room, slamming the door shut with a shake that rattles the walls around me.
Irritation rises inside of me, before I close my eyes and let out a ragged breath. And that is the guy that I’m supposed to be marrying in less than nine months? What an asshole.
