All The Lies (Lies & Truths Duet #1) - Rina Kent Page 0,14

he asks.

“An engagement ring?”

“You heard me, where is it?”

“I…don’t know.” And I really don’t. Now that I think about it, I should have one but I don’t.

Asher says nothing as we go into a large bedroom—scratch that, a princess bedroom. There’s a queen-sized bed with pink and beige sheets and a desk, on top of which sit countless pictures of me in a cheerleading outfit. Said outfit is hanging on the door of an open walk-in closet.

No kidding—it’s a whole walk-in. There are a few plaid skirts, white button-downs, and black jackets, on which there’s a golden symbol. My uniform from high school, I assume.

Private school. Of course I went to a private school. It fits the whole snobbish image.

Reina Ellis.

Captain of the cheerleading squad.

Doesn’t go out without makeup.

Heir to Daddy’s fortune.

And engaged to a jerk who couldn’t care less about me.

I really want to sit down with Old Reina and discuss her options. Surely she could’ve done better.

And yes, I’m judging myself. It’s my only option to vent.

“Let me go, Asher,” I spit out.

He throws me on the bed. I groan as my bruised hipbone hits the mattress.

What the hell? That hurts.

When I glare up at him, he gives me an indecipherable expression and places both his hands in his pockets. “You said to let you go.”

“Why do you hate me so much?” If you do, why the hell are you engaged to me?

“Might have to do with how much of a bitch you are.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I smile. “Did I steal your title, asshole?”

He pauses, head tilting to the side. “What did you just call me?”

“A-S-S-H-O-L-E.” I continue smiling, taunting him. “Do you want me to spell it for you again—”

My words cut off when he’s at my face, kneeling on the bed in front of me. His hand wraps around my throat like a shackle. He’s not squeezing, but the firm grip is enough to restrict my air supply and my thoughts.

A frightening chill forms goosebumps along my skin as I stare at his darkened, merciless eyes.

The sense of bravery I gained a few seconds ago evaporates into thin air. My shoulder blades snap together as if telling me I should be scared.

This is a scary person.

He’s fucking terrifying.

The need to run away from him hits me again, clawing under my skin and pumping in my blood.

“You seem to be taking your amnesia game way too seriously, so let me remind you of how it goes.” His thumb rubs my jaw like a lover’s caress when in fact it’s a Grim Reaper’s kiss.

It’s cold.

Everything about him is freezing.

My pulse roars in my ears like a distant thunderstorm.

He’s invading my space like a natural disaster, impossible to stop or prevent.

Still, I manage to choke words out. “You think this is a game? What type of person pretends to have lost their memories?”

“The type who doesn’t want people to know what they’ve done.”

“What I’ve done?”

“Shhh. Don’t talk.” He presses his thumb to my lips, and I can’t help the pulses taking flight under my skin. “When I speak, you listen.”

Despite the shivers of fear bursting through my system, my temper flares. Who the hell does this asshole think he is?

It takes effort, but I tell him point-blank, “You’re not my keeper, Ash.”

He pauses, and his hold loosens on my throat a little as if I’ve caught him off guard. The lapse lasts for a fraction of a second before his mask is strapped back on his face and his clutch tightens.

“It’s Asher. You don’t call me that. Ever.”

I want to taunt him, but that would be stupid with his hand around my throat this way. I’m seriously starting to think he’s a psycho, and psychos don’t think twice before suffocating their victims.

Or snapping their necks.

“Shouldn’t you be in England?” My vocal cords strain with the effort it takes to say the words. “Alex said you study at Oxford.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Not anymore.”

“Not anymore?” What the hell is that supposed to mean? I was only enduring his jerk ways because he’s supposed to fly to another continent.

As if reading my mind, his lips twitch in a smirk as he strokes my jaw with his lean thumb. “I can’t leave my fiancée alone, now can I?”

Screw him to the darkest pits of hell.

We both know that’s not the case. He’s only staying here to torment me and turn my life into a nightmare.

More than he already is.

“Don’t take the help’s side over mine.” All his good—or fake—mood disappears, replaced by