He keeps touching his tie, which means he’s nervous as fuck. He probably thinks I talked to Dad or something. I play a dick card and let him think that.
Be nervous, Ed.
I hope you stay nervous until the end of your miserable life.
I retrieve my phone discreetly under the table. There are text messages from my friends. I changed the group chat’s name to The Four Fuckers, like we’re four musketeers. Xan said there are only three musketeers and Cole just changed the name back to The Fuckers.
He has no imagination.
I try to pretend I’m interested in their texts, but I’m not, so I go straight to Teal’s messages.
Nothing.
Empty.
Nada.
She hasn’t acknowledged my existence since that night. Okay, so maybe throwing my childhood trauma on her all at once wasn’t my brightest moment.
And okay, admitting I have no pride when it comes to her is frowned upon in Ron Astor the Second’s playbook, but she’s not any girl.
She’s Teal.
I can’t fight the need to be with her every waking moment. I want to hold her, and maybe if I do so tightly enough, she’ll eventually open up to me, too.
Maybe she’ll feel safe enough to tell me why she puts up walls after we have sex or when she sleeps in my arms.
It can’t be the depravity — she loves that as much as I do. It’s a game we play, and it’s a damn good one at that. I hope to hell it’s not the performance, because Ron Astor the Second and his legendary size would take a rope to his neck, and that’d be a fucking tragedy.
Maybe I need to kidnap Knox and torture the answers out of him.
Or not.
Kidnapping and torturing your future brother-in-law is frowned upon in ninety-nine per cent of cultures.
Besides, I want her to be the one who tells me, not him.
But if she thinks she can run away from me by skipping school, she must not know me.
I’m an Astor. We don’t stop.
My great-great-grandfather brought his wife from Africa. When his family didn’t agree, he kind of gave them the middle finger and married her anyway. Or rather, he pestered her until she agreed to marry him.
I’m that type of Astor.
He camped out all the way in Africa — I’m lucky I just need to camp out in front of the Steel household.
“Ronan.”
I lift my head from my phone at Dad’s voice, realising I’ve been staring at the lack of texts for way too long.
“No phones,” Lars whispers. “How hard is it to follow that simple instruction, young lord?”
I glare at him and he feigns nonchalance, staring at Dad.
I grin, sliding the phone in my pocket. “Please, proceed. I apologise for my inadequate behaviour.”
Dad must sense the sarcasm in my overly posh tone, but he brushes it off. “We’re here because your mother and I need you to know a few things.”