Deceit (Gallows Hill Book 1), page 5
“Anything else I can get for you, Mr. Putnam?”
Any pleasantries on my face die in a fiery burn as my eyes swing to his face. He gives her a scathing look like she outed him, which she did, before brushing her off.
“Putnam? Please don’t tell me you’re Asher’s father,” I balk.
Oh my god. If I’ve been, not so secretly, flirting with my fiancé’s dad and having him flirt back with me, I will die. I swear.
He shakes his head. “Of course not. I’d have been ten when I had him.”
“So, what? You’re his brother?” I guess.
“Uncle,” he corrects.
Awesome.
I move to slide out of the booth while grabbing my phone, when his hand reaches for my wrist, holding me back half a step.
“It’s not what you’re thinking.”
I let out a hollow laugh as I peer down at him.
“Really? It seems as though you were being kind to me to gain my trust. Worming your way past my defenses, to do god knows what, either at the bidding of my fiancé or maybe even his father. Hell, maybe for your own vendetta. Either way, I would very much appreciate it if you would take your hand off of me.”
He lets me go instantly, and I take a step away from him when he speaks.
“I didn’t know who you were at first.”
I pause, casting a disbelieving eyebrow towards him.
“How? Everyone on this bloody campus seems to have known who I am, from the moment I arrived.”
Ronan shrugs, his eyes on mine as he continues.
“Do I seem like the type of man to keep up with the latest gossip?”
No, but still.
“You do seem to know enough.”
“Just enough,” he agrees.
Something in his words rings true, as ignorant as it might be of me to believe, I decide having an ally through this mess might not be such a bad thing. Flirting is most definitely off the table now. Damnit. He was the only blip of light apart from Maggie, in this school and this town.
“Okay,” I say, taking a seat in front of him. “If you really don’t mean any harm, then tell me what I can do to handle Asher. What can I do to make sure he never humiliates me like this again?”
He’s silent for a moment, his body language unwavering and I go to stand yet again. Of course he’s not going to turn on his own nephew. Not even if he thinks it’ll buy him brownie points with the young college student he was most definitely interested in, at least at first.
“Ignore him,” Ronan says. “I know it’s probably not the revenge you want, but Asher is just like his dad. He feeds on attention and power, the more you give him, the more insufferable he becomes. He may spiral from lack of attention, but him coming for you and you not reacting is like attacking a dead animal. It becomes boring after a while.”
He’s right, that’s not what I wanted to hear, but it is what I suspected. Asher seems to have every bit the arrogance and controlling nature that my father possesses. So though he’s, in a sense, a new enemy, this is an old game. One I’ve been playing my whole life.
I nod. “I haven’t met him before– your brother. What’s he like?”
Ronan’s jaw tenses and he takes several seconds before speaking.
“Didn’t I just tell you?”
“You told me the downsides of his personality. Are you really telling me that’s all there is to him? To both of them? You’re the only good Putnam man around?”
I say that last part teasingly and he seems to pick up on it, a self-deprecating laugh escaping him before he shakes his head.
“Who said I was any good?”
“Fair. You were trying to coerce a nineteen-year-old student,” I agree.
His jaw drops and he looks outraged.
“I did no such thing,” he defends.
“You would have in a heartbeat,” I challenge with a laugh and a ‘don’t lie to me’ look.
He opens his mouth to argue before he snaps it shut, shaking his head as if he were trying to hide his smile before his blue eyes peek up at me.
“I’m not sure how much coercion you would have taken, Miss Parris.”
True.
I don’t agree, obviously. Instead, I shrug my shoulders as I look across the bar.
“Do you want something?” he asks.
“What do they have?” I ask.
“Food, beer, liquor,” he rattles off sarcastically.
I roll my eyes at him, but don’t hide my smile.
“Well, since I’m only of legal age for one of the three, I will stick with food.”
“You’re in Salem now, Skyla. You can have whatever you want,” he says with an easy shrug, as he takes another drink of his beer.
“Surely the drinking laws aren’t different here?” I scoff.
“They are when your last name is Parris, soon to be Putnam.”
I laugh at him, because he must be kidding, but I decide to test his little theory. I catch the waitress’s eye and she walks over to us with a smile.
“Can I get something for you, hun?”
“Could I please get a chicken salad and a glass of pinot grigio?”
Her eyes briefly flick to Ronan, as if she were asking him for permission before he gives her a quick nod. She smiles brightly at me and nods before walking back to the computer to ring up the order. I watch her go, completely bewildered. I won’t lie, that was something I was disappointed about when I was forced to move back to the US. The drinking age in London is eighteen. I had just started being able to order a glass of wine at lunch or dinner with Aunt Steph when I was forced to move back here and now have to wait another two years before being able to do that again. Though apparently, not in Salem.
I’m not sure I understand this city yet. It’s not that small and yet, it’s as if everyone knows everyone or at least everyone is connected to each other in a way. It’s an odd dynamic that I’m still trying to wrap my head around.
My food and wine arrive in the next few minutes and Ronan gets another beer. We spend the next hour or so just talking about anything and everything. I told him about my time in boarding school, my Aunt Steph and my love of swimming. He told me how he went to Gallows Hill University himself and actually went on to join Team USA in the Olympics. He placed Bronze in the freestyle 100 meter two games in a row.
I was floored with that bit of information. I was about to start drilling him with question after question, but a sad look flickered across his face when the topic was brought up so I thought it was best to let it lie.
When we’re done, Ronan hands the waitress his card.
“Let me cover my share,” I say, earning a disapproving look from him as he continues holding his card out for the waitress.
I move my hand away from my wallet, lowering my head softly.
“Thank you,” I say with a small smile.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, causing a flutter to run through me.
There has been absolutely no flirting or sexual tension until this very moment. Obviously, him being a swim coach and over thirteen years older than me was enough of a no-no. Add in that I’m engaged and it’s really inappropriate. Sprinkle in the fact that he is my fiancé’s uncle. Yeah, it's a hard no. Unfortunately.
Neither one of us speaks, our eyes locked on one another before I force myself to look away. My eyes land on his hand, something familiar catching my eye.
“Hey, that looks just like my dad’s ring,” I say, leaning over to take a closer look at it.
He stiffens as soon as my fingers touch the cool metal. A cursive letter B is embossed on the front of the silver ring, with similar Latin script carved around it.
I look up at him expecting him to say something, but I only find Ronan staring at me intently, his jaw tight and eyes focused.
I let his hand go and he seems to relax almost immediately, which I can’t lie, kind of bugs me. Is my touch really that off putting? That repulsive?
Clearing his throat once, he gestures towards the door, and I nod my head. Silently yielding to whatever get out of this moment free card he wants to use.
“Where did you park?” Ronan asks, as we step out into the parking lot.
I cringe softly as I shake my head.
“I walked here.”
“You walked?” he scoffs. He looks down at me, towering over me by nearly a foot before he shakes his head.
“C’mon,” he says as he hits his key fob, unlocking a sleek, black BMW.
I don’t follow him, weighing my options. I probably shouldn’t ride with him. Having lunch with him was bad enough, right? Then again, my feet are practically begging me to say yes because I can’t imagine walking another fifty steps, let alone miles.
“Please,” Ronan adds from the side of the car. “It will make me feel better to know you aren’t wandering the streets alone.”
The soft tone in comparison to his normally rugged voice is enough to sway me, and I nod my agreement as I move towards him. He holds open the passenger door for me and I dip my head in thanks before sliding inside. The plush leather seats are like butter, and I sink into them as Ronan shuts my door and walks around to his side.
When he starts the car, he pauses for a moment staring at me for half a beat longer than I’d expect.
“What?” I ask, suddenly feeling self-conscious as I smooth down my hair with my hands and wipe under my eyes. Did I miss some makeup? Is my hair now also feeling the wrath of the hot-mess express I am on the inside?
“Nothing,” he says with a shake of his head, before firing up the car and backing out of the parking spot.
Chapter Seven
Ronan
You will not touch her thigh. You will not touch her thigh. You will not touch her thigh.
My grip on the steering wheel is practically punishing as we make our way back to campus. This was a bad idea. I didn’t like the thought of leaving her there stranded, but I’m reconsidering my decision now.
The fresh smell of oranges, vanilla and something uniquely her practically fills my car and makes it fucking impossible to focus on anything other than the girl next to me. She’s wearing a plaid skirt and a ribbed sweater. Though her thighs are covered with a pair of black tights, it doesn’t make me want to grab her soft flesh any less.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me, and I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t flirt with students, I don’t even entertain the idea, ever. She is not even close to the first student to try to gain my attention, but she sure as shit is the first that’s succeeded. Fuck, she has more than just my attention.
From the moment I saw her step through my doors, I was frozen in place. I watched her for ten minutes at least, peacefully swinging her legs in the water, mesmerized by the patterns her skin cut through the pool. My pool. Okay, it’s not my pool but I’m the one that paid for the school to put it in during my sophomore year, so it’s basically mine.
When I finally decided I needed to stop being a fucking creep and abandon the cameras, I had a million scenarios flickering through my mind. I was hopeful that she was a new teacher, an employee of some kind, fucking anything. Obviously I knew none of those could be possible. She was very clearly a student, and I did my best to come off abrasive and rough. A feat that is normally just my personality. It was hard to stay that way with her, though.
Before I knew it, she was leaving and I was desperate to keep her there for as long as I could. I couldn’t even remember the last time I felt so…calm.
The next time that I saw her, I promised myself I’d put some distance between us, maintain a professional boundary with her. I couldn’t be caught lusting after a student, especially not one from Gallows Hill. All the women are spoken for, either now or will be soon. Inserting myself would not only create problems now, but it could be the end of my life if I wasn’t careful enough.
Well, that plan was shot to hell when I watched her body glide through the water as if that was where she truly belonged. She moved like the water brought her peace and a little sense in this world. I never related to someone more than in that moment.
I was tempted to say to hell with all the rights and wrongs in the world, lay her down right there and bury myself inside her. We could talk later. We could worry later. All I knew was there was something about this woman that I needed, that I craved.
Unfortunately for me, the worst word that could possibly spill from her lips did in the next moment– Parris. She’s my nephews fucking fiancée. How about that coincidence.
I struggled to push her from my mind over the last few days. It drove me even crazier when I’d get to the pool extra early each morning and she wasn’t there. I decided I wasn’t going to wait around today and went to my favorite bar in town. The beer is cold, people leave me alone and my brother doesn’t have any spies in there that are too loyal to him.
Then, she just had to show up.
Out of all the restaurants in Salem, she had to come into mine.
I can’t fucking believe Asher. No, I can, but fuck I’m pissed. I’m going to tear his ass apart and then, his father no doubt, will do the same. I actually hope for his sake that my brother doesn’t find out about this. A disrespect like this, against his own betrothed? Christ, I don’t think he realizes how badly he’s just fucked up.
“What dorm are you in?” I ask.
“Parris,” she says softly, her meek voice practically crooning into my ear.
Goddamn, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a sound as sweet as her voice before. I want nothing more than to listen to her pant and shout my name from now until the end of time. As slyly as I’m able, I adjust myself so that she doesn’t see the way she affects me. I’m fucking gross. If you take a step back and look at the situation before us, I’m a gross predatory man and I fucking hate it.
The way she looks up at me with those big green eyes though, it doesn’t make this thing feel gross. She looks at me like she wants me more than I want her, which I know is impossible. Fuck. This girl has been in the states for less than a week and she’s already consuming practically every thought of mine. This is bad, bad, fucking bad.
I pull up to the entrance near her dorm, braking with a harsh stop before I throw the car into park. I have to physically bite my tongue so I don’t do something stupid, like offer to walk her to her room. That’s a temptation I know I couldn’t resist, her bed only fifteen-feet from me…fuck that. I’d cave in a heartbeat and not only would I burn in hell for it, I’d be signing my own death certificate in the process.
“Thank you,” she says softly as she shifts in the seat, her sweet voice begging me to look at her. I can’t, though. I keep my eyes forward and my hands firmly on the steering wheel as I give her a jerky nod.
I can feel her eyes on me for several seconds, but I know better than to look. It doesn’t make it feel any better when a soft sigh of disappointment escapes her, and she pushes open the car door before slipping out of it.
My car stays parked as I watch each graceful step she takes through those wrought iron gates. It’s an odd thing, seeing such a light soul walk into such a dark place. She won’t be that way for long, not here. A part of me is actually saddened by that fact. That someone will taint her innocence, her fire. If Asher has it his way, I’m sure he’ll stomp it right out before their wedding day can even come, and I really fucking hate that.
A buzzing comes from the center console and I groan to myself, wiping my hand down my face before answering.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Ronan,” my brother greets curtly. “Where are you?”
“At the university, about to head home.”
“Perfect. Annie Williams will be meeting you there at seven o’clock sharp.”
Fucking hell. I’m so sick of this. Ever since everything happened years ago, he’s been hell bent on marrying me off, like I’m his prized pig or something. I’ve repeatedly expressed my disinterest, but he’s not really a man that you say no to.
Then again, Annie Williams is a beautiful woman, an appropriate woman. Maybe all I need is a night full of debauchery, with anyone that isn’t Skyla Parris. Who knows, if I like Annie enough, maybe I’ll marry her to get my brother off my back. And have something to distract me from the fact that my nephew will be marrying the first woman, in a very long time, who has captured my attention.
“Fine,” I agree, as I put the car in drive and take off.
“Really?” he asks, a heavy tone of surprise in his voice.
“Well, I don’t have a choice, do I?” I ask.
“No, no you don’t. I just expected you to put up more of a fight.”
“Not today, big brother. I’m not in the mood.”
I hang up without a word, not giving a fuck if it pisses him off. He has bigger things to concern himself with, and the fact that I’m submitting to his wishes means I’m as good as off the hook. For now.
Chapter Eight
Asher
The damp musty odor of the tunnel permeates my nose instantly. A familiar and unwelcome feeling settles inside my stomach, turning and tightening its grip on me much like it did as a child. The stone walls at my sides feel as if they are closing in already, and I just got here. You can hardly see a hand in front of your face, the only light guiding us being the dim glow of the lit torches lining either side of the walls every six feet exactly.
I make sure not to let my discomfort show in the slightest as I raise my head high, pushing my shoulders back and stride through the ancient tunnel as if I own it. I mean, I do. We are on University property. My family owns everything here. Hell, we own everything, everywhere. I suppose that’s the one and only perk of the Putnam name.
Liam lazily trails behind me, his fingers moving across his screen like lightning. Yours would too if you had four regular hookups, three situationships and a handful of girls and guys on the line, waiting to be reeled in. My boy has options, just like all of us, the problem is he can never just choose one. He can’t make decisions to save his life, so instead of picking one or two he picks them all.
As long as he wraps it up, I don’t see an issue. He does need to hide where he parks his car though, since it gets keyed about every other week. Hell hath no fury like a scorned woman. He hasn’t had any of the guys he’s been with flip out quite like the women, yet. Not sure if it’s a personality thing or if that shit is something only a psycho female brain can come up with.
Any pleasantries on my face die in a fiery burn as my eyes swing to his face. He gives her a scathing look like she outed him, which she did, before brushing her off.
“Putnam? Please don’t tell me you’re Asher’s father,” I balk.
Oh my god. If I’ve been, not so secretly, flirting with my fiancé’s dad and having him flirt back with me, I will die. I swear.
He shakes his head. “Of course not. I’d have been ten when I had him.”
“So, what? You’re his brother?” I guess.
“Uncle,” he corrects.
Awesome.
I move to slide out of the booth while grabbing my phone, when his hand reaches for my wrist, holding me back half a step.
“It’s not what you’re thinking.”
I let out a hollow laugh as I peer down at him.
“Really? It seems as though you were being kind to me to gain my trust. Worming your way past my defenses, to do god knows what, either at the bidding of my fiancé or maybe even his father. Hell, maybe for your own vendetta. Either way, I would very much appreciate it if you would take your hand off of me.”
He lets me go instantly, and I take a step away from him when he speaks.
“I didn’t know who you were at first.”
I pause, casting a disbelieving eyebrow towards him.
“How? Everyone on this bloody campus seems to have known who I am, from the moment I arrived.”
Ronan shrugs, his eyes on mine as he continues.
“Do I seem like the type of man to keep up with the latest gossip?”
No, but still.
“You do seem to know enough.”
“Just enough,” he agrees.
Something in his words rings true, as ignorant as it might be of me to believe, I decide having an ally through this mess might not be such a bad thing. Flirting is most definitely off the table now. Damnit. He was the only blip of light apart from Maggie, in this school and this town.
“Okay,” I say, taking a seat in front of him. “If you really don’t mean any harm, then tell me what I can do to handle Asher. What can I do to make sure he never humiliates me like this again?”
He’s silent for a moment, his body language unwavering and I go to stand yet again. Of course he’s not going to turn on his own nephew. Not even if he thinks it’ll buy him brownie points with the young college student he was most definitely interested in, at least at first.
“Ignore him,” Ronan says. “I know it’s probably not the revenge you want, but Asher is just like his dad. He feeds on attention and power, the more you give him, the more insufferable he becomes. He may spiral from lack of attention, but him coming for you and you not reacting is like attacking a dead animal. It becomes boring after a while.”
He’s right, that’s not what I wanted to hear, but it is what I suspected. Asher seems to have every bit the arrogance and controlling nature that my father possesses. So though he’s, in a sense, a new enemy, this is an old game. One I’ve been playing my whole life.
I nod. “I haven’t met him before– your brother. What’s he like?”
Ronan’s jaw tenses and he takes several seconds before speaking.
“Didn’t I just tell you?”
“You told me the downsides of his personality. Are you really telling me that’s all there is to him? To both of them? You’re the only good Putnam man around?”
I say that last part teasingly and he seems to pick up on it, a self-deprecating laugh escaping him before he shakes his head.
“Who said I was any good?”
“Fair. You were trying to coerce a nineteen-year-old student,” I agree.
His jaw drops and he looks outraged.
“I did no such thing,” he defends.
“You would have in a heartbeat,” I challenge with a laugh and a ‘don’t lie to me’ look.
He opens his mouth to argue before he snaps it shut, shaking his head as if he were trying to hide his smile before his blue eyes peek up at me.
“I’m not sure how much coercion you would have taken, Miss Parris.”
True.
I don’t agree, obviously. Instead, I shrug my shoulders as I look across the bar.
“Do you want something?” he asks.
“What do they have?” I ask.
“Food, beer, liquor,” he rattles off sarcastically.
I roll my eyes at him, but don’t hide my smile.
“Well, since I’m only of legal age for one of the three, I will stick with food.”
“You’re in Salem now, Skyla. You can have whatever you want,” he says with an easy shrug, as he takes another drink of his beer.
“Surely the drinking laws aren’t different here?” I scoff.
“They are when your last name is Parris, soon to be Putnam.”
I laugh at him, because he must be kidding, but I decide to test his little theory. I catch the waitress’s eye and she walks over to us with a smile.
“Can I get something for you, hun?”
“Could I please get a chicken salad and a glass of pinot grigio?”
Her eyes briefly flick to Ronan, as if she were asking him for permission before he gives her a quick nod. She smiles brightly at me and nods before walking back to the computer to ring up the order. I watch her go, completely bewildered. I won’t lie, that was something I was disappointed about when I was forced to move back to the US. The drinking age in London is eighteen. I had just started being able to order a glass of wine at lunch or dinner with Aunt Steph when I was forced to move back here and now have to wait another two years before being able to do that again. Though apparently, not in Salem.
I’m not sure I understand this city yet. It’s not that small and yet, it’s as if everyone knows everyone or at least everyone is connected to each other in a way. It’s an odd dynamic that I’m still trying to wrap my head around.
My food and wine arrive in the next few minutes and Ronan gets another beer. We spend the next hour or so just talking about anything and everything. I told him about my time in boarding school, my Aunt Steph and my love of swimming. He told me how he went to Gallows Hill University himself and actually went on to join Team USA in the Olympics. He placed Bronze in the freestyle 100 meter two games in a row.
I was floored with that bit of information. I was about to start drilling him with question after question, but a sad look flickered across his face when the topic was brought up so I thought it was best to let it lie.
When we’re done, Ronan hands the waitress his card.
“Let me cover my share,” I say, earning a disapproving look from him as he continues holding his card out for the waitress.
I move my hand away from my wallet, lowering my head softly.
“Thank you,” I say with a small smile.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, causing a flutter to run through me.
There has been absolutely no flirting or sexual tension until this very moment. Obviously, him being a swim coach and over thirteen years older than me was enough of a no-no. Add in that I’m engaged and it’s really inappropriate. Sprinkle in the fact that he is my fiancé’s uncle. Yeah, it's a hard no. Unfortunately.
Neither one of us speaks, our eyes locked on one another before I force myself to look away. My eyes land on his hand, something familiar catching my eye.
“Hey, that looks just like my dad’s ring,” I say, leaning over to take a closer look at it.
He stiffens as soon as my fingers touch the cool metal. A cursive letter B is embossed on the front of the silver ring, with similar Latin script carved around it.
I look up at him expecting him to say something, but I only find Ronan staring at me intently, his jaw tight and eyes focused.
I let his hand go and he seems to relax almost immediately, which I can’t lie, kind of bugs me. Is my touch really that off putting? That repulsive?
Clearing his throat once, he gestures towards the door, and I nod my head. Silently yielding to whatever get out of this moment free card he wants to use.
“Where did you park?” Ronan asks, as we step out into the parking lot.
I cringe softly as I shake my head.
“I walked here.”
“You walked?” he scoffs. He looks down at me, towering over me by nearly a foot before he shakes his head.
“C’mon,” he says as he hits his key fob, unlocking a sleek, black BMW.
I don’t follow him, weighing my options. I probably shouldn’t ride with him. Having lunch with him was bad enough, right? Then again, my feet are practically begging me to say yes because I can’t imagine walking another fifty steps, let alone miles.
“Please,” Ronan adds from the side of the car. “It will make me feel better to know you aren’t wandering the streets alone.”
The soft tone in comparison to his normally rugged voice is enough to sway me, and I nod my agreement as I move towards him. He holds open the passenger door for me and I dip my head in thanks before sliding inside. The plush leather seats are like butter, and I sink into them as Ronan shuts my door and walks around to his side.
When he starts the car, he pauses for a moment staring at me for half a beat longer than I’d expect.
“What?” I ask, suddenly feeling self-conscious as I smooth down my hair with my hands and wipe under my eyes. Did I miss some makeup? Is my hair now also feeling the wrath of the hot-mess express I am on the inside?
“Nothing,” he says with a shake of his head, before firing up the car and backing out of the parking spot.
Chapter Seven
Ronan
You will not touch her thigh. You will not touch her thigh. You will not touch her thigh.
My grip on the steering wheel is practically punishing as we make our way back to campus. This was a bad idea. I didn’t like the thought of leaving her there stranded, but I’m reconsidering my decision now.
The fresh smell of oranges, vanilla and something uniquely her practically fills my car and makes it fucking impossible to focus on anything other than the girl next to me. She’s wearing a plaid skirt and a ribbed sweater. Though her thighs are covered with a pair of black tights, it doesn’t make me want to grab her soft flesh any less.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me, and I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t flirt with students, I don’t even entertain the idea, ever. She is not even close to the first student to try to gain my attention, but she sure as shit is the first that’s succeeded. Fuck, she has more than just my attention.
From the moment I saw her step through my doors, I was frozen in place. I watched her for ten minutes at least, peacefully swinging her legs in the water, mesmerized by the patterns her skin cut through the pool. My pool. Okay, it’s not my pool but I’m the one that paid for the school to put it in during my sophomore year, so it’s basically mine.
When I finally decided I needed to stop being a fucking creep and abandon the cameras, I had a million scenarios flickering through my mind. I was hopeful that she was a new teacher, an employee of some kind, fucking anything. Obviously I knew none of those could be possible. She was very clearly a student, and I did my best to come off abrasive and rough. A feat that is normally just my personality. It was hard to stay that way with her, though.
Before I knew it, she was leaving and I was desperate to keep her there for as long as I could. I couldn’t even remember the last time I felt so…calm.
The next time that I saw her, I promised myself I’d put some distance between us, maintain a professional boundary with her. I couldn’t be caught lusting after a student, especially not one from Gallows Hill. All the women are spoken for, either now or will be soon. Inserting myself would not only create problems now, but it could be the end of my life if I wasn’t careful enough.
Well, that plan was shot to hell when I watched her body glide through the water as if that was where she truly belonged. She moved like the water brought her peace and a little sense in this world. I never related to someone more than in that moment.
I was tempted to say to hell with all the rights and wrongs in the world, lay her down right there and bury myself inside her. We could talk later. We could worry later. All I knew was there was something about this woman that I needed, that I craved.
Unfortunately for me, the worst word that could possibly spill from her lips did in the next moment– Parris. She’s my nephews fucking fiancée. How about that coincidence.
I struggled to push her from my mind over the last few days. It drove me even crazier when I’d get to the pool extra early each morning and she wasn’t there. I decided I wasn’t going to wait around today and went to my favorite bar in town. The beer is cold, people leave me alone and my brother doesn’t have any spies in there that are too loyal to him.
Then, she just had to show up.
Out of all the restaurants in Salem, she had to come into mine.
I can’t fucking believe Asher. No, I can, but fuck I’m pissed. I’m going to tear his ass apart and then, his father no doubt, will do the same. I actually hope for his sake that my brother doesn’t find out about this. A disrespect like this, against his own betrothed? Christ, I don’t think he realizes how badly he’s just fucked up.
“What dorm are you in?” I ask.
“Parris,” she says softly, her meek voice practically crooning into my ear.
Goddamn, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a sound as sweet as her voice before. I want nothing more than to listen to her pant and shout my name from now until the end of time. As slyly as I’m able, I adjust myself so that she doesn’t see the way she affects me. I’m fucking gross. If you take a step back and look at the situation before us, I’m a gross predatory man and I fucking hate it.
The way she looks up at me with those big green eyes though, it doesn’t make this thing feel gross. She looks at me like she wants me more than I want her, which I know is impossible. Fuck. This girl has been in the states for less than a week and she’s already consuming practically every thought of mine. This is bad, bad, fucking bad.
I pull up to the entrance near her dorm, braking with a harsh stop before I throw the car into park. I have to physically bite my tongue so I don’t do something stupid, like offer to walk her to her room. That’s a temptation I know I couldn’t resist, her bed only fifteen-feet from me…fuck that. I’d cave in a heartbeat and not only would I burn in hell for it, I’d be signing my own death certificate in the process.
“Thank you,” she says softly as she shifts in the seat, her sweet voice begging me to look at her. I can’t, though. I keep my eyes forward and my hands firmly on the steering wheel as I give her a jerky nod.
I can feel her eyes on me for several seconds, but I know better than to look. It doesn’t make it feel any better when a soft sigh of disappointment escapes her, and she pushes open the car door before slipping out of it.
My car stays parked as I watch each graceful step she takes through those wrought iron gates. It’s an odd thing, seeing such a light soul walk into such a dark place. She won’t be that way for long, not here. A part of me is actually saddened by that fact. That someone will taint her innocence, her fire. If Asher has it his way, I’m sure he’ll stomp it right out before their wedding day can even come, and I really fucking hate that.
A buzzing comes from the center console and I groan to myself, wiping my hand down my face before answering.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Ronan,” my brother greets curtly. “Where are you?”
“At the university, about to head home.”
“Perfect. Annie Williams will be meeting you there at seven o’clock sharp.”
Fucking hell. I’m so sick of this. Ever since everything happened years ago, he’s been hell bent on marrying me off, like I’m his prized pig or something. I’ve repeatedly expressed my disinterest, but he’s not really a man that you say no to.
Then again, Annie Williams is a beautiful woman, an appropriate woman. Maybe all I need is a night full of debauchery, with anyone that isn’t Skyla Parris. Who knows, if I like Annie enough, maybe I’ll marry her to get my brother off my back. And have something to distract me from the fact that my nephew will be marrying the first woman, in a very long time, who has captured my attention.
“Fine,” I agree, as I put the car in drive and take off.
“Really?” he asks, a heavy tone of surprise in his voice.
“Well, I don’t have a choice, do I?” I ask.
“No, no you don’t. I just expected you to put up more of a fight.”
“Not today, big brother. I’m not in the mood.”
I hang up without a word, not giving a fuck if it pisses him off. He has bigger things to concern himself with, and the fact that I’m submitting to his wishes means I’m as good as off the hook. For now.
Chapter Eight
Asher
The damp musty odor of the tunnel permeates my nose instantly. A familiar and unwelcome feeling settles inside my stomach, turning and tightening its grip on me much like it did as a child. The stone walls at my sides feel as if they are closing in already, and I just got here. You can hardly see a hand in front of your face, the only light guiding us being the dim glow of the lit torches lining either side of the walls every six feet exactly.
I make sure not to let my discomfort show in the slightest as I raise my head high, pushing my shoulders back and stride through the ancient tunnel as if I own it. I mean, I do. We are on University property. My family owns everything here. Hell, we own everything, everywhere. I suppose that’s the one and only perk of the Putnam name.
Liam lazily trails behind me, his fingers moving across his screen like lightning. Yours would too if you had four regular hookups, three situationships and a handful of girls and guys on the line, waiting to be reeled in. My boy has options, just like all of us, the problem is he can never just choose one. He can’t make decisions to save his life, so instead of picking one or two he picks them all.
As long as he wraps it up, I don’t see an issue. He does need to hide where he parks his car though, since it gets keyed about every other week. Hell hath no fury like a scorned woman. He hasn’t had any of the guys he’s been with flip out quite like the women, yet. Not sure if it’s a personality thing or if that shit is something only a psycho female brain can come up with.
