Paper Princess: A Novel (The Royals Book 1)

  It’s impossible to answer. My eyes dart toward the doorway that leads upstairs. The other door is behind me, but I don’t want to turn my back to Easton if I need to run for help.

  He catches the fear in my eyes and starts to laugh. Just like that, his hand slides out of his pants. “Aw, look at that, Reed. She’s scared of us. Thinks we’re gonna hurt her.”

  Reed laughs, too. From his perch on the counter, he smirks at me. “Not our MO. We have no problem getting laid.”

  Sexual assault isn’t about getting laid, it’s about power, I want to say, but I can see now that I was afraid for nothing. They don’t need to hurt me. They already have power. This…whatever this was…it was intimidation. A game. They wanted to make me uncomfortable, and they succeeded.

  As our gazes lock in a three-way stare-down, Callum walks into the room. He frowns when he notices Easton standing so close to me and his other son lurking at the counter. “Is everything all right?”

  The Royal brothers watch me, waiting for me to tattle on them.

  I don’t. “Everything’s awesome.” I take another bite of yogurt but my appetite is gone. “Your sons and I are just getting to know each other. Did you know they have a stellar sense of humor?”

  Easton’s lips twitch. When his dad turns away, Easton’s palm grazes his crotch again.

  “Did you enjoy the party last night?” Callum asks.

  Reed cocks an eyebrow at me. Waiting again, this time to see if I’ll tell their father about the way they deserted me on the side of the road. I keep that to myself, too.

  “It was great,” I lie. “Super fun.”

  Callum joins me at the table, trying to provide a buffer between me and the guys, but his attention only draws sneers from Reed and Easton, who make no effort to hide their feelings.

  “What would you like to do this weekend?”

  “I’m fine. You don’t have to entertain me,” I answer.

  He swivels in his chair. With an upward tip of his chin, he asks, “What about you two?”

  The subtext is what are we going to do with Ella. It makes me cringe and a tightness that I’m beginning to call the Royal Pain appears between my shoulder blades.

  “We got plans,” Reed mutters and walks out of the room before Callum can even open his mouth again. He turns to Easton, who raises both palms and blinks innocently.

  “Don’t ask me. I’m the middle child. I do what everyone else tells me.”

  Callum rolls his eyes and despite the tension, I snort softly into my bowl. Easton does what Easton wants. No one made him put his hand down his pants and proposition me. That’s a game he enjoyed playing and one he did without prompting. It’s convenient for him to pretend like Reed is his leader, absolving Easton of responsibility.

  “Well, maybe you can let me know what Reed’s plans are for you later,” Callum grinds out.

  Easton flushes. It’s one thing for him to cast Reed as a leader and another thing for their father to imply Easton’s a puppet.

  “You never cared what I did on the weekends before.” He shoves the OJ carton back into the fridge. With a glare at his father that is hot enough to turn the hair on Callum’s head entirely gray, he walks off as well.

  Callum sighs. “I’m not winning any father of the year awards, am I?”

  I tap my spoon against the table a few times because I know better than to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong. But in this case, Callum is dragging me right into the middle of a messed-up dynamic and the collateral damage could get real bad if he doesn’t rein it in.

  “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, Callum, and obviously you know your kids better than I do, but does it really make sense shoving me down their throats? Honestly, I’d rather they ignored me. It doesn’t hurt my feelings that they aren’t happy I’m here, and the house is big enough we could all go for days and not see each other.”

  He scrutinizes me as if he’s trying to figure out if I’m being sincere. Finally, he smiles sheepishly. “You’re right. It wasn’t always like this. We used to get along fine, but ever since their mother’s death, the whole family hasn’t been right. Unfortunately, these boys are spoiled. They need a dose of real life.”

  And I’m that dose?

  I scowl. “I’m not an afterschool lesson. And you know what? I’ve experienced real life and it sucks. I wouldn’t force real life on the people I love the most. I’d try to protect them from that.”

  I push away from the table and leave him behind.

  Outside the kitchen, I find Reed lurking in the hall.

  “Waiting for me?” I’m not even remotely sorry for the snide edge that’s crept into my voice.

  Reed gives me the onceover, his gorgeous blue eyes lingering on my bare legs. “Just wondering what your game is.”

  “I’m trying to survive,” I tell him honestly. “All I want to do is to make it to college.”

  “And take a chunk of Royal money with you?”

  I bristle. This guy just won’t let up. “Maybe with a few Royal hearts in my pocket, too,” I say sweetly.

  And then, with a forced boldness, I lift a finger and trail it slowly across his naked pecs, my nail scraping across his smooth skin. His breath hitches, almost imperceptibly, but it’s there.

  My heart leaps to my throat and blood begins to pound in places that I absolutely do not want to be associated with Reed Royal.

  “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he rasps out.

  Don’t I know it. Still, I can’t let Reed see he’s gotten to me. I pull my hand away, folding the fingers into a fist. “I don’t know any other way to play it.”

  That bit of truth stuns him and I slip away. I’d like to think I won that round, but I feel like every encounter with Reed chips away at something vital inside me.

  * * *

  I spend the day exploring the house and the grounds. Beside the pool is a pool house made almost entirely of glass, which holds a sofa, some chairs, and a tiny kitchen. A stairway leads to the shore, but with all the rocks, there really isn’t anything you could call a beach, at least not unless you walk farther down the shoreline. Still, it’s beautiful, and I can see myself sitting down here with a book and a mug of hot cocoa.

  It’s hard to believe this is my life now. If all I have to do is endure two years of insults from the Royal boys, it’ll still be a cakewalk compared to everything I’ve gone through in the past. No worrying about having enough to eat or wondering where I’m going to sleep. No moving from town to town, looking for a quick score. No sitting by my mom’s bedside watching her shake and cry from pain but being too poor to afford the medication that would put her out of her misery.

  A sharp bolt of grief slices through me at those memories. Like Callum, Mom wasn’t the best parent in the world, but she tried hard and I loved her. When she was alive, I wasn’t completely alone.

  Here, with the big endless ocean rolling away from me and not another person as far as I can see, the solitude hits me hard. No matter what Callum says or tries to do, I’m never going to be a Royal.

  Maybe I’ll do my reading inside.

  The big house is quiet. The guys are gone. Callum has left a note that says he’s working and provides me with the Wi-Fi password, his cell phone number, and Durand’s number. Under the piece of paper is a small white box. Cue heavy breathing. I lift out the smart phone like it’s made of sugared crystals. My old phones were disposable flip phones that sent and received calls. This one…I feel like I could hack a database with it.

  I spend the rest of the afternoon playing with the phone, looking up random shit and watching really terrible YouTube videos. It’s wonderful.

  Around seven, Callum calls to tell me that dinner is ready. I find him and Brooke out on the patio.

  “Mind if we eat out here?” he asks.

  I stare at the delicious-looking food and the beautifully lit patio area, and try not to roll my eyes because who in their right mind would hate this? “It’s perfect.”

&nbsp
; During dinner, I get a chance to see a different side of Brooke. A strange, vulnerable one where she ducks her head and bats her eyelashes at Callum. And Callum? The man who heads up a corporation that builds planes for the military? He eats it up like candy.

  “Can I get you more wine, honey?” Brooke offers. Callum’s glass is almost overflowing already.

  “No. I’m perfect.” He smiles easily. “I’ve got the two most beautiful ladies sitting down to dinner with me. The steak is cooked perfectly and I just closed a deal with Singapore Air.”

  Brooke clasps her hands together. “You are just amazing. Have I told you how amazing you are?”

  She leans close, her breasts squashing against his arm, and plants a wet kiss against his cheek. He casts a quick glance in my direction before gently moving away. Brooke makes a small noise of disappointment but settles into her chair.

  I dig into my steak. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a piece of meat so juicy before.

  “Steak is very fattening. All red meat is,” Brooke informs me.

  “Ella doesn’t need to worry about that,” Callum says brusquely.

  “Not now, but later you’ll regret it,” Brooke warns.

  I look down at the succulent piece of meat and then over at Brooke’s willowy frame. I think I get where she’s coming from. Like me, she’s poor. She relies on Callum’s generosity and probably fears that if she’s less beautiful tomorrow, he’ll be done with her. I don’t know if she’s wrong or right, but it doesn’t make her concerns less valid. Still, I’m hungry and I want this steak. “Thanks for your input.”

  Callum smothers a chuckle as Brooke frowns. An expression I can’t make out flits across her face. Something like disappointment or disapproval. Her pouty lips firm and she turns to Callum, engaging him in conversation about some party they went to before I arrived.

  Guilt makes my next bite of meat a little less delicious than the first one. I hurt her feelings and now she’s shutting me out. Other than Valerie, she was the one friendly face around in this new place and now I’ve offended her.

  “Should we plan a party to welcome Ella into the family?” Callum suggests, trying to include me in the conversation.

  And Callum. He’s been nothing but perfect since he dragged me out of Daddy G’s, but a party with the assholes from school? I’d rather have my fingernails pulled out one by one.

  I place my fork beside my plate. “I don’t need a party. You’ve already given me everything I need.”

  Brooke lays her head against Callum’s stiff shoulder. “Callum, don’t worry about it. Ella will make friends in her own time, won’t you, darling?”

  I nod in agreement. “That’s right.”

  I summon up my best smile, and it must work because the tension in his body disappears. “All right, then. No party.”

  “Callum’s the best, isn’t he?” Brooke reaches up to toy with the top button of his shirt. Her actions are possessive, almost as if she’s trying to defend her territory. I want to tell her I’m not a threat, but I don’t know if she’d believe me. “We’re his soiled doves. Hopefully once we’re cleaned up, he doesn’t send us away.”

  “No one’s sending Ella away. She’s a Royal,” Callum declares.

  My gaze shifts to Brooke, and by the tight expression on her face, she doesn’t miss that her name wasn’t included in his pronouncement.

  “Really? I thought she was Steve’s daughter. Is there something you’re not telling us?” Brooke trills.

  He rears back as if she hit him. “What? No. Of course she’s Steve’s. But he’s”—Callum swallows hard—“he’s gone, and so Ella is part of my family now just as the boys would have been Steve’s if anything had happened to me.”

  “Of course. I didn’t mean anything other than you’re generous.” Her voice drops to a purr. “So very generous.”

  With each word, she moves closer and closer to Callum until she’s virtually on his lap. He switches his fork to his left hand and drapes an arm around the back of Brooke’s chair. His eyes plead with me to understand. I’m using her just as she’s using me.

  I get it, I really do. This is a man who lost his wife and best friend in a short span of time. I know what loss feels like, and if Brooke fills up those empty spaces for Callum, then good for him.

  But I don’t need to watch them in action.

  “I’m going inside to get a—” I don’t even bother finishing because Brooke has climbed on top of Callum. I watch wide-eyed as she straddles him, pulling on his ears like he’s a hobby horse.

  “Not here, Brooke.” His eyes flicker toward me.

  I start walking—quickly—toward the kitchen. Behind me, I hear her reassure Callum.

  “She’s seventeen, darling. She probably knows more about sex than the two of us put together. And if she doesn’t, your boys will expose her innocent eyes soon enough.”

  That makes me cringe, but whatever spell Brooke has cooked up is doing its thing because I hear Callum groan.

  “Wait. Wait. Brooke.”

  She giggles breathily and then Callum’s chair starts squeaking. Damn, this is a big patio.

  Easton is coming out of the kitchen as I make my escape inside. He peers past me, totally unfazed by what’s happening on the patio.

  “Welcome to the Royal Palace,” he says. An impish grin spreads across his face and he yells, “Don’t forget to wrap it before you tap it. We don’t need more money-grubbing illegitimate kids in this family.”

  My smile dies off immediately. “Did someone teach you how to be a jerk or does it come naturally?”

  Easton hesitates for a moment, but then, as if Reed is sitting on his shoulder, he drops his hand to his crotch. “Why don’t you come upstairs and I’ll show you just how good I am in my natural state?”

  “Pass.” I walk by as calmly as possible, and I don’t start running until I hit the stairs.

  Once I’m in the privacy of my bedroom, I list all the reasons why I shouldn’t leave immediately. I remind myself that I’m not hungry. I have ten grand in my backpack. I’m not stripping for greedy men with dollar bills clutched in their sweaty hands. I can handle two years of sexual come-ons and personal putdowns from the Royal boys.

  But for the rest of the night I stay in my room, where I spend the time looking for part-time jobs using the shiny new MacBook that magically appeared on my desk. There’s no public transport outside the house, but I passed a bus stop last night that wasn’t too far away. Maybe a quarter of a mile.

  The next day, I make the walk, and according to my watch it takes ten minutes at a brisk pace, which is more like a half mile. The Sunday bus schedule is snoozy—only one every hour and it stops at six. Whatever job I get would need to be over early on Sundays.

  On my way home, Gideon drives by in a shiny SUV. His hair is sticking up and he’s got red marks on his neck. If it were anyone else, I’d say he just had sex, but he looks too angry for that. Maybe he fought with a raccoon.

  “What are you doing?” he barks.

  “Walking.”

  “Get in.” He stops and shoves open the door. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

  “Seems like a nice place.” The houses are big. The lawns are bigger. Besides, his brothers had no problem ditching me on this road the other night. “The most danger I’ve encountered this morning is a big bad man trying to lure me into his truck. Good thing I know better.”

  A reluctant smile lurks on the corner of his mouth. “I don’t have any candy or ice cream, so by default I should be considered safe.”

  “Nah, just a shitty kidnapper.”

  “You coming or are we going to block the Sunday traffic all day?”

  I glance behind him and see another car coming. Why the hell not? It’s a short trip to the house.

  Gideon doesn’t say anything during the drive, only rubs his arm a couple of times. A few minutes later, he stops in front of the entrance and puts the car in park.

  “Thanks for the ride, Gideon.” When h
e doesn’t follow me inside, I glance over and call out to the SUV. “Not coming?”

  He looks up at the house. “No. I need a swim. A long one.”

  Then he rubs his arm again like there’s dirt on it that he simply can’t get off. He catches me watching him and frowns.

  I want to ask if there’s anything wrong but the no trespassing look that shutters over his face makes me swallow back the words. I give him a worried look instead, an invitation. I’ve seen shit, I try to telegraph. I only get a clenched jaw in return.

  * * *

  On my bed is another note from Callum. I climb onto the cloud of pink and white and curl up next to the headboard to read.

  Sorry about last night’s dinner. Won’t happen again. Durand will drive you to school in the morning. Let him know the time.

  P.S. Your car is coming. Wanted to get exactly the right one and the only one with the correct color was in California.

  Oh God, please don’t let it be pink. I think I’ll die if I’m supposed to drive Malibu Barbie’s dream car.

  I bolt upright from the bed. I can’t believe those words even passed through my head. A car is a car. I should be grateful just to be driving one. Who cares what color it is? If it’s pink, I’ll get down and kiss the bubble-gum-colored fender.

  Jeez. One weekend and I’m already turning into a spoiled brat.

  11

  The next morning, I’m up at dawn. I’m not going to repeat my mistakes from the party. I push aside all the pretty shoes that Brooke bought and find some white canvas sneakers. I pair them with skinny jeans and a T-shirt.

  I nibble on my lip. Do I leave the backpack here or take it with me? If I take it with me, some punk ass kid might steal it. If I leave it, one of the Royals might go through it. I decide to take it with me, although carrying around ten large makes me feel paranoid and jumpy.

  I run into Callum in the kitchen—he’s leaving for work, and he’s surprised to find me up so early. I lie and tell him I’m meeting Valerie for breakfast, and he looks so excited I made a friend that I think he’s going to pee his pants.