Page 32 of Deceit

“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 thedistance 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 yourfiancée.”

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.”

Chapter Thirteen

Skyla

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