Ronan Astor hated you.

He loathed you.

You were his fiancée.

He didn’t want to be married or engaged. Bloody hell, he was only eighteen. But here you had come and crashed all his plans.

Now, he was stuck with you.

He watched you from the sidelines. Dancing. It was his party at his mansion and his fiancée was letting another man touch her.

He passed his drink to Xander. No way in hell was he letting you be touched by someone other than him.

You were his. His to ruin, his to destroy.