Page 80 of Deceit

My phone buzzes in my clutch and I pull it out quickly, unable to stop the smile that comes to my face.

Liam: Is he treating my girl alright?

Me: Surprisingly, he’s been mute.

Liam: Good. Just keep your head down tonight, and come home to me. I’ll be in your room waiting.

Shaking my head, I scoff as I reply.

Me: You need a key to get into my room, remember?

Liam: Babygirl, the fact that you assume I haven’t already duplicated your key is adorable.

What a little shit. I’m typing out my reply when my phone is ripped from my hands and tossed onto the floorboard.

“Fuck around with my best friend all you want, but if my father finds out, you’re gonna get all three of us fucking buried. Use your last remaining brain cells, and have some goddamn common sense!” Asher snaps, before pushing his way out his door.

He storms around to my side, ripping the door open just as I unbuckle my seat belt before his hand is wrapped around my bicep, yanking me to my feet.

His dark brown eyes are practically on fire as he sneers down at me, his grip on me beginning to shake as if he were barely restraining himself.

“We are going to walk through those doors, and you’re not going to say a goddamn word unless you are directly asked. Do you understand me? You will be silent. You will be demure. You will be a fucking wallflower.”

“The fact that you think I need a reminder of how to behave in front of men like our fathers is astounding. You’re not the only one who grew up like this. I’m not some ill-mannered degenerate. I believe that title goes to the man who is currently leaving bruises on his fiancée’s arm,” I grit out, as my arm begins to ache in pain.

Surprisingly, he releases me in an instant, those molten eyes coming down to the reddening area before coming back to my eyes. He doesn’t apologize and I don’t expect him to. Instead, he gives me a terse nod, offers his arm and we begin walking up the front steps of Putnam Manor together.

We don’t even make it to the front door before a butler is opening it for us, bowing slightly, as if we were royalty while we step in. Asher doesn’t even make eye contact, but I give him a small smile of appreciation as he ushers us through the foyer and into the grand dining room.

My father and Asher’s are seated at the table, amber colored drinks in crystal glasses before them. Their eyes snap to us, likelions stalking their prey, and a sudden urge to flee takes over me. However, I push that fear away and proceed to put on the song and dance Asher and I have agreed upon.

Christopher is seated at the head of the table, with my father on his left. Asher pulls out my seat beside him while he takes the seat on his father’s right. Gently taking my seat, I make eye contact with my father and give him a soft smile and submissive head dip that always seems to please him. He nods approvingly before my eyes meet Christopher’s.

He is watching me with a barely there smile, his eyes full of intrigue as he stares at me.

“She really is a spitting image of Giselle, isn’t she?” he asks, assumingly speaking to my father but his eyes never leave mine.

My father hums his agreement, but doesn’t speak. I have the urge to ask him how well he knew my mother. I’d assume very well, since they obviously went to school together. Aunt Steph told me as much as she could about her, but that’s only one person’s perception of her. I want the whole image, the whole person. I do the smart thing though and bite my tongue, staying still and silent as Asher is handed a glass of the same scotch our fathers are drinking.

“How have things been?” Christopher asks after a heavy moment, finally looking away from me and turning to face his son.

Asher is stiff and rigid, though his words are as smooth as honey.

“Very well. I’ve been making excellent headway in my studies as well as fortifying new friendships that will be beneficial to us all.”

The cryptic meaning behind his words are plain as day, I just don’t have a clue what it is yet. That’s the point though, I’m sure. Nothing about these men, this society, screams subtle. They arevery proud of themselves and whatever business they conduct, they just simply won’t give you the exact details.

A small garden salad is placed before each of us, and I practically jump out of my seat with excitement to focus on anything other than the stiff conversation the three of them begin to make. Happily busying myself with my food, I take small delicate bites, intending on stretching out my attention over each course to avoid my father’s permanent disapproving stare or Christopher’s wolfish gaze that sends chills down my spine.

I’m disappointed Ronan couldn’t be here tonight. He told me he tried to casually receive an invitation, to which he was promptly rejected. It would have looked weird if he insisted but I could really use him right now. He always knows how to put me at ease, make me feel comforted and supported. It’s as if he can sense what I need before even I do. God, I wish he would unexpectedly walk in here right now.

Unfortunately, I know that isn’t an option considering he had to head to New York on an errand for the Brethren. That’s what he told me, at least, and obviously I didn’t pry. I haven’t heard from him since he left this morning, and he told me that he wouldn’t be back for a few days. He did promise to facetime with me tonight once I’m home, so at least I can look forward to that.

My thigh is squeezed suddenly, sharply, and my head whips up from my empty salad plate to find Asher’s eyes on me, his jaw tense as he flicks his eyes to his father who is already watching me. Placing my fork down quickly, I give him all my attention no matter how it rolls my stomach.

“My apologies.”

“No apologies needed, my dear,” Christopher says, with a patient smile that looks anything but. “Your father and I have been discussing wedding plans and seeing as you and Asher havegotten along so well, we thought it would be best to move up the nuptials.”

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