“Hello,” I answer. “Ronan,” my brother greets curtly. “Where are you?” “At the university, about to head home.” “Perfect. Annie Williams will be meeting you there at seven o’clock sharp.” Fucking hell. I’m so sick of this. Ever since everything happened years ago, he’s been hell bent on marrying me off, like I’m his prized pig or something. I’ve repeatedly expressed my disinterest, but he’s not really a man that you say no to. Then again, Annie Williams is a beautiful woman, an appropriate woman. Maybe all I need is a night full of debauchery, with anyone that isn’t Skyla Parris. Who knows, if
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