Page 76 of Demise

I grit my teeth together as I nod.

“Sure.”

“It’s a nice party, black tie. You’ll definitely need to change…that,” she says as she gestures to my outfit.

“Oh, of course.” I play along. “Asher loves it when I dress like his dirty little slut before he fucks me in closets around campus.”

“Oh,” Annie says, clearly surprised by my lack of discretion. “Well, I suppose whatever it takes to keep your man satisfied. You wouldn’t want him to stray,” she says, her nails digging into Ronan’s arm, a clear territorial move on her part.

“No, we certainly wouldn’t want that,” I agree before I turn to leave. “Sorry to interrupt, I’ll see you bothtonight,” I bite out.

Ronan doesn’t try to follow me, nor do I expect him to. Each step I take feels hollow, numb. I’m barely able to pull my shirt down and take my hair out of the pigtails before I stumble, dropping to my knees. I sit there for several seconds, only able to hear the sound of my heart beating.

“Skyla? Are you okay?” Maryia asks, coming over to me in concern.

I look up at her, handing her my phone with a shaky hand.

“Can you call my husband? I need to go home.”

She nods quickly, finding Asher’s number and calling him. Within minutes, Asher, Liam, and Maggie are all surrounding me, asking me what’s wrong, but when I insist that I just want to go home, they concede. Asher lifts me up into his arms and carries me to the car while Liam follows closely behind. Liam unlocks his car, climbing into the driver’s seat while Asher sets me into the back and slides in beside me. He hauls me into his chest and begs me to talk to him, but I don’t want to talk. I don’t know what to say. So, I just sob instead.

Chapter Twenty Five

Ronan

I’m holding a neat scotch that I haven’t touched all night. Quite the opposite to my very inebriated fiancée. This is her sixth or seventh dirty martini, and it shows. I’m not sure why she feels so untouchable. Maybe because she is engaged to a Putnam, or maybe it’s because she’s a Williams. Elder family or not, there is no room for embarrassment in the Brethren, and she is most definitely an embarrassment.

Annie tries to stand up straight but ends up crashing into me, her drink spilling over her glass as she giggles.

“Ooopsies. Sorry, fiancéééé,” she drags out, giggling once more.

I swear to Christ, I’ve never met anyone that giggles as much as this woman. She knocks back her glass before signaling one of the servers. I catch her hand, though, lowering it to her side.

“That’s enough,” I say lowly.

“Pfft, I’ve only had two.” She defends.

“No, you’ve had six, possibly seven. You’re drunk, sloppy, and embarrassing me and your family. Go to the bathroom, sober up,and come out like the respectable woman you are expected to be,” I snap before shoving her away from me.

Hurt flashes in her eyes, but I really don’t give a fuck. In the small increments of time I’ve spent with Annie Williams, I’ve learned several things. She’s extremely self-centered, her condescension knows no bounds, and she’s honestly just a fucking bitch.

“Move!” she snaps at a woman and man in front of her, shoving the woman several feet away.

See? Bitch.

My eyes scan the room, in search of that beautiful head of blonde hair and those piercing green eyes. I don’t doubt she’ll be here. It would look bad for her and Asher if they didn’t. After all, we’re family. If they don’t arrive soon, people will talk, and Christopher will not be happy about that.

Speaking of Satan himself, he slithers across the room, holding out his hand for me to shake as if we aren’t fucking blood.

“Ronan, congratulations,” he says with a head nod.

“Thank you,” I say stiffly.

Christopher’s eyes roam over the crowd before he faces me.

“Where has your fiancée run off to?”

“Bathroom,” I say curtly.

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