Twisted Palace

  Her hands are on her hips and she looks ready to come over and kick my ass. Fortunately, I already know I can hold my own with her. We threw down, literally, just a few weeks into classes.

  “Just wondering who you ate for breakfast,” I answer sweetly.

  “Freshmen, of course.” She smirks at me. “Don’t you know? I like them young and tender and weak.”

  “Of course you do. Anyone strong would scare the shit out of you.” Which is why Jordan doesn’t like me.

  “You know what would scare the shit out of me? Climbing into bed with a murderer.” Tossing her long dark hair over one shoulder, she walks over to her gym bag and pulls out a water bottle. “Or are you so jaded from all the guys you’ve slept with that normal ones don’t turn you on anymore?”

  “You wanted him before,” I remind her.

  “He’s rich and hot and supposedly has a good dick. Why wouldn’t I want him?” Jordan shrugs. “But unlike you, I actually have standards. And unlike the Royals, my family is actually respected around these parts. My father has won awards for his philanthropy. My mother heads up half a dozen charity committees.”

  I roll my eyes. “What does that have to do with you wanting Reed?”

  She scowls. “I just told you—I don’t want him anymore. He’s bad for my image.”

  A laugh pops out. “You’re saying all this as if you and Reed hooking up is actually a possibility—which it isn’t. He’s not interested in you, Jordan. Never has been, never will be. Sorry to burst your delusional bubble.”

  Her cheeks flush. “You’re the delusional one. You’re screwing a killer, sweetie. Maybe you should be careful. If you make him angry, you might be the next person in the coffin.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  Mr. Beringer, the headmaster of Astor Park, appears out of nowhere. Even though he’s all bluster—I’ve seen Callum pay this guy off more than once—I still don’t want to make any waves.

  “Not at all,” I lie. “I was just admiring Jordan’s form.”

  He eyes me suspiciously. The last time he saw us together, I’d taped Jordan’s mouth shut and paraded her, bloody nose and all, in front of the school.

  “I see. Well, perhaps you can do that another time,” he says in a clipped voice. “Your father is here. You’re being excused for the day.”

  “What?” I blurt out. “But I have classes.”

  “Your father?” Jordan echoes in disbelief. “Isn’t he supposed to be dead?”

  Crap. I forgot she was here. “It’s none of your business.”

  Jordan stares at Beringer, then at me, and then collapses on the gym floor, laughing so hard she needs to wrap her arms around her stomach.

  “Oh God! This is amazing,” she gasps between giggles. “I can’t wait to see the next episode where you’re pregnant but we don’t know if it’s Reed’s or Easton’s baby.”

  I scowl at her. “Every time I start thinking of you as a human being, you have to ruin it by opening your mouth.”

  The headmaster directs a glare at my nemesis. “Ms. Carrington, this behavior is completely uncalled for.”

  Beringer’s reprimand only makes her laugh harder.

  Visibly clenching his teeth, he takes my arm and guides me away from the doorway. “Come along, Ms. Royal.”

  I don’t correct him about my last name, but I wrench my elbow out of his grip. “I’m serious. I have classes.”

  He bestows a smarmy smile on me, the kind he probably gives to old ladies when he asks them for a donation to the Astor Park endowment. It says that he’s doing me a favor. “That’s all been taken care of. I’ve informed your teachers that you’ve been excused. And you won’t even need to make up your coursework.”

  Yup. He thinks he’s doing me a favor. “What kind of bullshit school are you running if you can just excuse a junior from classes and not have her do the makeup work?”

  His already thin lips flatten in a disapproving line. “Ms. Royal. Just because your father has returned from the dead doesn’t mean you can mouth off to me like that.”

  “Give me a thousand demerits, then,” I mock. Or maybe I’m pleading. “I’ll serve them today.”

  He simply smirks. “I don’t think I will. It sounds like you’re already serving a punishment.”

  Seriously, I hate everyone in this school. They’re the worst. I wonder what Beringer would do to me if I just refused to walk out the front doors. Would the police show up and drag me away?

  The headmaster stops at his office and tips his head down the hall toward the lobby. “Your father is waiting.” He gives a slight shake of his head. “I don’t understand why you aren’t excited to spend time with him. You’re a strange girl, Ms. Royal.”

  With that, he disappears into his office, as if he doesn’t want to spend one more moment with the weird kid who doesn’t want to see her father.

  I rest my head against one of the lockers and force myself to face the truth I’ve been dodging ever since Steve showed up.

  I don’t want to spend time with him because I’m scared.

  What if he doesn’t like me? I mean, he left my mom. Whatever she had wasn’t enough to keep him, and Maggie Harper was an angel—beautiful, sweet, and kind.

  And then there’s me… Prickly and difficult to get along with, not to mention foul-mouthed and set in my ways at the ripe old age of seventeen. I’m bound to say something that embarrasses me and offends him.

  But no matter how badly I want to hide in these poison-infested halls, Steve is waiting and I’ve got two choices. Stay and meet him, or run and lose Reed.

  And if those are my only choices, there’s really no decision to make.

  I point my feet toward the lobby and start walking.

  13

  Ella

  When I walk up, Steve is waiting in the lobby with his hands in his pockets, reading the bulletin board notices.

  “This place hasn’t changed much,” he tells me as I approach.

  My forehead creases in confusion. “You went here?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “No. I didn’t think Astor Park was that old.”

  A wry smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “Are you calling me old?”

  My cheeks heat up. “No. I just meant—”

  “I’m only teasing. I think the first class graduated in the thirties? So yeah, this place is old.” He takes his hands out of his pockets before facing me full on. “You ready to go?”

  My spine stiffens. “Why?”

  “Why what?” Steve looks confused.

  “Why are you taking me out of classes?”

  “Because you can’t hide behind Beringer like you do Callum and his boys.”

  I can’t hide the surprise that leaps across my face. And Steve is perceptive enough to notice.

  He smiles. “Thought I didn’t notice you were avoiding me?”

  “I don’t know you.” And I’m scared. Too many things are out of my control. I’m used to being in charge. For as long as I can remember, Mom relied on me to pay the bills, shop for groceries, get myself to school.

  “That’s why I’m taking you out for the day. Let’s go.” This time his smile is laced with steel.

  That’s me, I realize with a jolt. My mom was soft. My dad? Not so much, I guess.

  I follow him outside because I sense there’s no getting out of this. At the curb sits a low-slung sports car full of curves. I’ve never seen anything like it. Except for the color. It’s the exact shade as my own car—a patented color called Royal Blue, according to Callum.

  The wonder must show in my face because Steve says, “Bugatti Chiron.”

  “I have no idea what you just said,” I say matter-of-factly. “It sounds like a brand of spaghetti.”

  With a chuckle, he holds the door open for me. “It’s a German car.” He runs his hand along the top of the roof. “Best in the world.”

  He could be making all this up, and I wouldn’t know. I’m not a car person. I like the in
dependence of having wheels, but even I can tell that this car is something special. The leather is softer than a baby’s bottom and the dials are shiny chrome.

  “Is this a spaceship or a car?” I ask when Steve settles into the driver’s seat.

  “Maybe both. It goes from zero to sixty in two-point-five seconds and has a max speed of two hundred and sixty-one miles per hour.” He flashes a boyish smile in my direction. “Are you the rare female who’s also a car enthusiast?”

  “I’m offended for my gender. I bet there are lots of female car fans out there.” I buckle my seatbelt and offer a reluctant grin in return. “I’m not one of them, though.”

  “Too bad. I could let you drive it.”

  “No thanks. I actually don’t like to drive all that much.”

  Steve mock-glares at me. “Are you sure you’re my daughter?”

  Not really.

  Out loud, I say, “DNA says I am.”

  “That it does,” he murmurs.

  An awkward silence hangs between us. I hate this. I just want to go back inside and attend my classes and make out with Reed during lunch period. Hell, I’d rather exchange insults with Jordan right now than sit here with Steve.

  My father.

  “So what should we do today?” he finally asks.

  I toy with the strap of my seatbelt. “You don’t have something planned?” Then why did you pull me out of school? I want to shout.

  “I thought I would leave it up to you. Ladies’ choice.”

  This lady chooses to go back to class.

  But I have to remind myself that continuing to avoid Steve isn’t going to make this awkwardness go away. Might as well face it head on.

  “How about the pier?” I suggest, naming the first place that pops into my head. It’s November, so it’ll be too cold to sit outside, but maybe we could go for a quick walk or something. I’m pretty sure I brought some gloves.

  “That’s a very good idea.” He starts the engine, and the entire car vibrates from the power of it.

  As Steve drives through the massive front gates of the school, my gaze strays to the right, in the direction of the French Twist. Just like that, my body tenses again, the memory of what he’d done returning in full, angry force.

  “Why did you get me fired from my job?” I blurt out.

  He glances over in surprise. “You’re upset about that?”

  “Yeah. I am.” I cross my arms. “I loved that job.”

  Steve blinks a couple of times, as if he can’t understand what I’m saying. I’m wondering if I should try saying it in a different language, when he finally snaps out of his trance.

  “Shi—I mean, shoot. I thought Callum was forcing you to work.” Steve shakes his head in dismay. “Sometimes he does strange things to enforce responsibility in his kids.”

  “I haven’t seen any of that,” I answer tightly, feeling oddly defensive of Callum.

  “Oh, he used to threaten the boys with military school all the time.”

  My annoyance rises up again. “Working at a bakery is nothing like military school.”

  “Your shifts start at five in the morning, Ella. You’re what? Sixteen? Surely you’d rather be sleeping in.”

  “I’m seventeen and used to working,” I retort, then force myself to soften my tone. My mother always said you caught more bees with honey than vinegar. “But you didn’t know that, so I get why you made assumptions.” My voice goes even softer. “But now that you know I love my job, can you go back and tell Lucy that it’s okay for me to work?”

  “I don’t think so.” His hand waves dismissively. “My daughter doesn’t need to work. I’ll take care of you.”

  Steve hits the accelerator and the car zooms forward. I resist the urge to cling to the dashboard, fear for my life overshadowing the irritation that his comment evokes.

  “Now, tell me about yourself,” he says as he drives down the road like a maniac.

  I bite my lip in frustration. I don’t like the way he just ended the bakery conversation. You’re not working. The End. His parenting skills need work. Even Callum, who’s not winning any father awards, was willing to have a lengthy discussion about me working.

  “You’re a junior, right? What did you do before coming here?”

  Steve is completely oblivious to my unhappiness. His blue eyes are fixed on the windshield, his hand skillfully shifting gears as he weaves through traffic.

  Feeling unusually petty, I respond in a saccharine tone. “Didn’t Callum tell you? I was stripping.”

  He nearly drives off the road.

  Crap. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut. I proceed to hang on for dear life as he swerves back into the correct lane.

  “No,” Steve sputters. “He forgot to mention that.”

  “Well, I was.” I stare at him in challenge, waiting for him to lecture me.

  He doesn’t. “I can’t say I’m thrilled to hear it, but sometimes you’ve got to do whatever it takes to survive.” Steve pauses. “You were on your own before Callum found you?”

  I nod.

  “And now you live in the shrine of Maria. I’m surprised Brooke didn’t have that portrait taken down.”

  There’s a giant painting of Maria that hangs over the fireplace, and when Callum and Brooke announced their engagement, Brooke sat under it with a smug smile. The boys were so mad about the engagement, the way it was announced, even about Brooke’s ring—which was a match for the one Maria wore in the portrait. The whole setup was like a human-sized middle finger.

  “She didn’t have the time,” I mutter.

  “I suppose not. I imagine the first thing she’d do is redecorate the place from top to bottom. Everything in that house has Maria’s fingerprints all over it.” He shakes his head. “Those boys all idolize her. Callum, too, but no living person is a saint.” He tilts his head slightly, sliding a glance in my direction. “It’s not good to place a woman on a pedestal. No offense, sweetheart.”

  Is that…resentment in Steve’s voice? I really can’t tell. “None taken,” I mumble.

  If Steve had intended to make the conversation between us even more awkward, he picked the perfect topic.

  “So this car is really fast,” I say in a desperate attempt to distract him from the Maria train of thought.

  A faint smile touches the corners of his mouth. “I hear you. No more questions about Maria. What about your mother? What was she like?”

  “Kind, loving.” What do you remember about her? I want to ask, but before I can, he’s already moving on.

  “How are you enjoying school? Grades okay?”

  This man has a serious case of ADHD. He can’t stay on one topic for more than two seconds.

  “School’s fine, I guess. My grades are fine.”

  “Good. That’s good to hear.” He throws me another curveball. “You’re dating Reed?”

  My mouth snaps open in shock. “I…ah…yeah,” I finally admit.

  “Is he treating you well?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you like seafood?”

  I fight the urge to rub my confused eyes. I don’t understand this man. All I know is that he drives too fast and has spitfire conversations that make my head spin.

  I can’t make sense of him. At all.

  * * *

  “That. Was. The. Worst.”

  Hours later, I stomp into Reed’s bedroom and throw myself onto his bed.

  Reed sits up and leans against the headboard. “Aw, come on. It couldn’t have been that bad.”

  “Didn’t you hear me?” I grumble. “It was the worst.”

  “What was the worst?” Easton asks from the doorway, then barrels into the room.

  “Dude, you need to learn how to knock,” Reed tells his brother in exasperation. “What if we were naked?”

  “Naked implies you’re having sex. And we all know you’re not.”

  I stifle a sigh. I should probably be used to the frank way Easton discusses Reed’s and my sex life, but I’m
not.

  “You weren’t in Chem,” Easton informs me, as if I wasn’t aware of my own absence. “You and Val skip?”

  “No.” I grit my teeth. “Steve pulled me out of school for some father/daughter bonding.”

  “Ah. Gotcha.” Easton flops down on the bed next to me. “Didn’t go well, huh?”

  “Nope,” I say glumly. “I don’t get him.”

  Easton shrugs. “What’s there to get?”

  “Him.” I run a hand through my hair in frustration. “He’s like a man-child. We had breakfast at the pier, then took a drive up the coast and had lunch at this restaurant on top of a cliff. I swear, all he did was talk about cars and how much he loves flying planes. Then he told me about all the times he almost died on his crazy adventure trips and how he wishes he was still a Navy SEAL because he loved blowing shit up.”

  Reed and Easton snicker. They’d stop laughing pretty darn fast if they heard the comments Steve had made about Maria, but I don’t want to poison that well, so I concentrate on the other weird stuff. And there was plenty.

  “He changes subjects so fast it’s impossible to keep up,” I say helplessly. “And I can never tell what he’s thinking.” My teeth sink into the inside of my cheek as I look at Reed. “He knows we’re together.”

  My boyfriend nods. “Yeah, I figured. We weren’t exactly trying to hide it.”

  “I know, but…” I swallow. “I got the feeling he doesn’t like it. And that’s not even the worst part.”

  “Am I the only one who thinks this sounds like a badass day?” Easton pipes up. “I want to eat on a cliff.”

  “He wants me to move in with him and Dinah.”

  That shuts Easton up. Both he and Reed go stiffer than the bedposts.

  “Not happening,” Easton says.

  “According to Steve, it is.” I moan unhappily and climb into Reed’s lap. His strong arms instantly wrap around my waist, anchoring me. “He didn’t push the issue about me staying at the hotel with them, but he said that the second the police release the penthouse, he expects me to move in. He asked me if I had any design ideas for his interior decorator. He’s hiring someone to decorate my room!”