Page 17 of Deceit

“Hm?” I ask.

“You were crying, obviously. Why?”

The reminder of this morning hits me in full effect, and just like that, I’m furious all over again.

“My lovely fiancé just decided my Saturday needed to start off with a heavy dose of public humiliation.”

His brows knit together at that.

“What do you mean?”

I bite my lip and turn my head away, refusing to go into detail. It’s bad enough that without a doubt, the whole school is literally laughing in my face right now. I don’t need it from the staff as well. I feel a thumb press against the side of my chin, gently turning my face back to him, as he leans across the table a little more and watches me intently.

“What did he do?”

Something about the way he is looking at me, the way he is touching me, is forcing all of my walls to drop simultaneously. So, with a shaky hand, I pass my phone to him. It’s open to the personalized message I got from Asher this morning, along with the photo.

Ronan removes his hand from my chin, before looking down at the phone. His jaw ticks, as he stares at it for longer than I’d care before he looks back up at me.

“I’ll take care of this.”

I shake my head. “Please don’t, it will only egg him on. For whatever reason, he’s trying to make my life miserable, despite me wanting nothing more to do with this situation than him.Feeding into it only gives him the attention and control he’s clearly so desperate for.”

He stares at me, seemingly speechless for several seconds before he speaks.

“You’re a hell of a lot more intuitive than your meek demeanor portrays.”

I shrug. “You notice a lot when you stay quiet.”

Ronan nods and is about to say something when the waitress comes up beside him and smiles.

“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.”

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