15. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Skyla

A s we walk up the stairs, my arm looped through Asher’s and Steph’s, I can see her shaking beside me. You wouldn’t be able to tell though by looking at her. Her head is held high, eyes focused and hardened. She looks like a picturesque vision of poise. Yet I can feel the deep seated fear radiating from her. Hopefully, I’m the only one that will.

Per usual, the front door opens just as we reach the top, one of Christopher’s butlers bowing as we enter. My steps slow for a moment when we enter the foyer, flashes of what it looked like last time. My eyes move to the crown molding against the floor. I remember staring at it. Fixating on it as I held onto Asher with everything I had. It was that white crown molding that held me through each lash.

“Stephanie Thompson,” Christopher booms with a smile so fake it would make a car salesman cringe. “It’s been years. You certainly have grown up,” he says as he leans in, pressing a kiss to either cheek.

She returns the gesture, though hers hold a significant amount of disdain to them.

“You‘re looking as fabulous as ever, Christopher. If only Giselle could see you now.”

His smile drops at my mother’s name, and his eyes flash for a moment. It’s a dangerous look, one filled with warning. There was a glimmer of something else in them, though. Sadness? Sorrow?

“Already bringing up the sister you’ll never be?” my father says, stepping into the room beside Christopher.

“Just keeping the memory alive of the wife you never loved,” she spars back to him.

Asher and I trade unnerved looks. I’ve never heard anyone speak to my father this way, or Asher’s father, for that matter. With how terrified she was, you’d think she would cower, play dead, something.

My father doesn’t react like Christopher did. Instead, he gives her a bored glance before turning to face me.

“Skyla,” he says with a head dip.

“Father,” I say in return.

He reaches his hand out for Asher, and he takes it, shaking my father’s hand tightly before releasing it.

“A pleasure as always, Henry.”

My father nods but doesn’t say a word as he looks back to Stephanie.

“Why did you come?”

“I invited her, Henry. Don’t scare off my dinner guest just yet.”

I hear my father grumble something under his breath as he turns and moves to the dining room. Christopher’s eyes move from Stephanie to me, that plastic smile back in place.

“And how is my favorite daughter-in-law doing?”

“I’m good, thank you for the invitation,” I smile politely.

“I’d guess less than good. Being kidnapped by a deranged psychopath has to be less than pleasing.”

My lips part in surprise. “How did you know?”

Christopher laughs like I told a joke before shaking his head.

“Sweetheart, you really think a member of my society can kidnap my daughter-in-law, burn down a property, and I wouldn’t know about it?”

“I burned the place down,” Asher interjects before Christopher stops him.

“No, you didn’t. It was Corwin, understand?”

Asher stares at him for a moment before nodding. Christopher nods as well as he claps his hands together.

“Good, let’s eat.”

We all move into the dining room and take our seats, me in between Asher and Steph while Christopher takes his place at the head of the table, and my father takes his place across from Asher. I feel Asher’s hand come to my knee, squeezing it softly in comfort as Christopher speaks.

“Though I will say, I’m pleased to know my son’s affections have grown for you. We’ve come far from screwing whores and calling out Skyla’s name, haven’t we son?”

Asher freezes at that, and my brows knit together.

Christopher makes a face of mock surprise as our plates are set in front of us by the waitstaff.

“Oh, did you not know? I’d have thought you’d heard. If the Elders were hearing about my son’s little tryst with the Lewis girl, I’d assumed you knew.”

“When was this?” I ask before I can help myself, hoping to God it was so long ago that it doesn’t matter.

Asher is staring at his food before his eyes come to me, his words clear but soft.

“Shortly after our ceremony…before we…made up,” he says cryptically.

Hurt stabs through me. Lewis? Mercy Lewis? He fucked her? Before or after the whole fork incident with Bridgette? Come to think of it, it had to have been before. Mercy was glaring at me with straight up contempt that day. No wonder she did. Asher was inside of her, calling out my name. Maybe that should give me some kind of peace, and to be fair, we weren’t together…still, though. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.

Reaching down to my knee, I push Asher’s hand away and he looks up at me, hurt passing over his face before he lowers his head and nods.

“I made a mistake, an embarrassing one.”

“That’s all you ever do is make mistakes,” Christopher tuts. “Let’s hope that it will be the end of them, hmm?” he asks, none of us missing the threat in his tone.

Asher nods jerkily, which seems to satisfy Christopher because he turns his sights on Steph.

“Stephanie, now that you’re back in the States, we must get you matched. Trenton Richards is newly available. His poor wife lost her life a few months ago, pregnant with their son as well. I believe you were in the same year as him?”

“Yeah,” Stephanie answers. “He still knocking women around? What was his wife’s cause of death exactly?”

Christopher gives a forced smile, the facade cracking by the moment.

“I’ll be honest, I think all that time abroad has soiled your couth. It’s a good thing you’re home now and won’t be returning,” he says, his smile vanishing by the end of his sentence.

Steph gulps roughly but doesn’t speak as Christopher yet again switches targets. Lucky me, I think I’m next.

“So, Skyla. If it’s not too traumatic for you, I’d like to talk about what happened with Corwin.”

“I don’t think that’s nec—” Asher starts but is silenced with a bang of Christopher’s fist against the table.

“I don’t believe I addressed you, boy ,” he spits.

Asher’s nostrils flare as he lowers his head. Unwanted images flash through my head, and I grimace before facing Christopher and nodding.

“What do you want to know?”

“What was his reasoning?” my father asks sharply.

“For taking me?” I ask.

He nods.

I shrug. “He said that I looked just like Mom. That they used to date—”

Christopher scoffs. “He wished.”

“And that me coming back was like a second chance,” I continue. “He told me that she started dating my father and then…you.”

My mouth opens to mention the whole ‘him saying my father is the one that killed her’ thing, but for some reason, I don’t. Call it nerves or preservation. I mean, who in their right mind would accuse someone of murder right in front of them with no evidence? Someone looking to disappear, that’s who.

“Anything else?” Christopher asks.

I scramble in my head, trying to come up with more to tell him.

“He was about to rape me,” I say, the words coming out sharp as a knife, an awkward hush falling over the room. “He was stripping me naked and was going to rape me and then dress me in my mother’s clothes when…Asher came in,” I say, altering the story. Based on how Christopher and Asher spoke, they made it sound like Asher was the one to find me, alone. Not Vincent or Liam or Wesley or even Ronan.

Christopher watches me closely, like he’s searching my face to sniff out the lies before he speaks.

“Well, I’m very sorry you had to endure that, and I’m glad that the son of a bitch is burning in hell.”

I nod but don’t say anything, my throat feeling suddenly hot and tight. I attempt to clear it but when that doesn’t work, I reach for some water, taking a small sip.

“Your mother and I were together. We shared her, together. Most bond brothers do, as you know,” he says, setting me on edge.

Asher looks to me, nodding.

“He knows about Liam.”

Liam. Just Liam.

I force my shoulders to relax as I nod.

“Yes, please relax, sweetheart. There is nothing to be afraid or ashamed of. Walcott is not promised to anyone, nor is he married. Even then, permitting Asher gives his blessing, it wouldn’t be uncommon for you two to spend time together. A bond between brothers is…it’s special, holy. Trivial things like right and wrong could never sever the tie.”

I’m confused by his speech and by his acceptance. The way everyone made it seem, Christopher should be furious, disgusted. He should want to kill us all. Unless this is for show.

“Your mother was a very special woman,” Christopher says as he begins cutting into his steak. “I think I can speak for everyone in that room that night when I say, I don’t blame Walcott for wanting to spend time with you as well. You are…exquisite,” he says as he stares at me with a longing in his eyes, picking up his bloody steak piece with his fork before resting it on his tongue.

It makes me squirm in my seat, and I do my best not to look away. He doesn’t break our eye contact as he chews, a sinister smile playing at his mouth before he turns to my father and begins talking about business. Asher reaches for my knee again, but I scoot out of his reach. I don’t know what to think, or how to feel right now. I need space, to process, to think, and most of all, I just want this dinner done and over with.