Twisted Palace

  When we get back from dinner, Dad and Steve hurry off to the study, where they’re probably going to chain-drink Scotch and drone on about their SEAL days. East and the twins disappear into the game room, which leaves just Ella and me.

  Finally.

  “Upstairs?” I growl, and I know she doesn’t miss the predatory gleam in my eyes.

  Riding the bench tonight sucked ass. Forget the fact that everyone in the stands was talking about me, and that some asshole coughed the word “killer” into his palm when he passed me. Not playing was a thousand times worse. I felt like a useless sack of potatoes, not to mention more than a little jealous as I watched my friends pummel the other team.

  All the aggression I didn’t get to expend tonight is rearing up now. Luckily, Ella doesn’t seem to mind. She flashes me that beautiful smile and tugs me toward the staircase.

  We practically sprint to her bedroom. I lock the door, then lift her up in my arms and march over to the bed. She squeaks in delight as I fling her onto the mattress.

  “Clothes,” I order, licking my lips.

  “What about them?” She toys with the bottom of her loose green sweater, all innocence.

  “Off,” I growl.

  She smiles again, and I swear my heart soars to the sky. I don’t think I could have survived this week if I didn’t have Ella by my side. The murmurs at school, the phone calls from my lawyer, the police investigation that’s still going strong. As much as I hated Brooke, it’s not like I’m jumping for joy that she’s dead. I’m not going to miss her, that’s for sure, but nobody deserves to die like that.

  “Reed?” Ella’s humor fades when she sees my face. “What’s wrong?”

  I swallow. “Nothing. I was just thinking about stuff I shouldn’t be thinking about.”

  “Like what?”

  “Nothing,” I say again, and try to distract her by peeling my long-sleeve shirt over my head.

  It works. The moment she lays eyes on my bare chest, she makes a breathy little sound that goes right to my dick. I love that she loves my body. I don’t care if that makes me some cocky, superficial jerk. The way her eyes darken with pleasure and her tongue comes out to lick her bottom lip is the biggest ego boost a guy could ever get.

  “Your stitches,” she says, as she’s done all week when we’ve fooled around.

  “Healing nicely,” I answer, as I’ve done all week when we’ve fooled around. “Now take off your clothes before I do it for you.”

  She looks intrigued, as if she’s wondering whether to be difficult just so I’ll follow through on the threat, but I guess she’s as horny as I am, because her clothes start coming off in the next moment.

  My entire mouth turns to dust when her pink bra and matching underwear are revealed. Ella has no idea how gorgeous she is. Every girl at Astor Park would die to have those curves, that golden hair, the flawless features. She’s pure and total perfection. And she’s all fucking mine.

  Keeping my pants on, I climb onto the bed and press my body against her, my mouth finding hers again. We make out forever. Kissing and groping and rolling around on the bed until finally I can’t take it anymore. Her underwear comes off. My pants are undone. Her hand is on me and my hand is between her legs and it’s so good I can’t think straight.

  “Lie back,” she murmurs.

  Holy hell, she’s bent over me now, and her mouth is doing things that drive me absolutely crazy.

  Her hair falls over my thighs. I thread my fingers through the soft strands, guiding her over me. “Faster,” I whisper.

  “Like this?”

  “Yeah. Like that.”

  Her lips and tongue shove me right over the edge, and even though it’s probably the biggest cliché in the book, once my body settles I pull her up and tell her I love her.

  “How much?” She gives me a teasing smile.

  “So much,” I say hoarsely. “Like, an insane amount.”

  “Good.” She plants a kiss on my lips. “I love you an insane amount, too.”

  She lies down beside me, stroking my abs while her lower body slowly rolls against my hip. Damned if that doesn’t get me going again. I might’ve gotten off, but she hasn’t yet. I love being the one to get her there. She makes the hottest noises when she comes apart.

  “My turn,” I rasp as I move down her body.

  She’s so ready for me it’s not even funny. I get hard again, because the thought of being the first one to slide into her welcoming body is hot enough to melt the entire continent of Antarctica. But I can’t. Not tonight. Not until I know for sure that I’m not going to be locked up for a crime I didn’t commit.

  But I can do this instead. Torture her with my mouth and my fingers and make her moan and plead—

  “Ella,” a sharp voice commands from behind the door. “Open up.”

  She shoves my head away and bolts up as if the bed is on fire. “Oh my God, it’s Steve,” she hisses out.

  I sit up, shooting a wary look at the closed door. I locked it, right? Please fucking say I locked—

  The doorknob jiggles, but the door doesn’t budge. I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Ella,” Steve barks again. “Open the door. Now.”

  “One second,” she calls, her tone hasty and her eyes wild with panic.

  We hurriedly throw our clothes on, but I don’t think we do a good job of looking put-together, because when she lets Steve in, his gaze turns into a thundercloud.

  “What the hell are you two doing in here?”

  I arch a brow at the rage in his voice and the redness of his cheeks. I get that he’s Ella’s father, but it’s not like the two of us were filming a porno in here or something. We were just messing around.

  “We were…watching TV,” Ella mumbles.

  Both Steve and I turn toward the black screen across the room. Steve clenches his fists to his sides before turning back to Ella.

  “Your door was locked,” he practically growls.

  “I’m seventeen,” she says stiffly. “I’m not allowed to have any privacy?”

  “Not this much privacy!” Steve shakes his head. “Is Callum out of his mind?”

  “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” comes my father’s dry voice.

  Steve spins around to the doorway, where Dad stands with his arms crossed.

  “What’s going on here?” Dad asks calmly.

  “Your son just had his hands all over my daughter!” Steve snaps back.

  My mouth actually. But I keep quiet. The vein in Steve’s forehead already looks like it’s about to burst. No sense in speeding the process along.

  “This is unacceptable to me,” he continues, his tone colder than ice. “I don’t care what kind of parenting role you’ve decided to take. Your boys can screw to their hearts’ content, but my daughter is not one of Reed’s sex toys.”

  My shoulders snap straight. Who the hell is he to say that?

  “Ella is my girlfriend,” I say coolly. “Not a sex toy.”

  He jabs a finger at the messed up bedspread. “So it’s perfectly okay for you to take advantage of her like this?” His icy glare shifts to Dad. “And you! What kind of father allows two teenagers this much freedom? Next thing you’re going to tell me they sleep in the same room!”

  Ella’s guilty expression doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone. When Steve sees it, his face turns redder.

  He takes a deep breath, slowly relaxes his fists, and then says, “Pack your bags, Ella.”

  There’s a beat of silence, followed by three incredulous exclamations.

  “What?” Ella.

  “No way.” Me.

  “Steve, that isn’t necessary.” Dad.

  Ella’s father only addresses the last remark. “Actually, I think it’s very necessary. Ella is my daughter. I don’t want her living in this kind of environment.”

  “You’re saying my home isn’t a good environment for a child?” Dad’s tone sharpens. “I’ve raised five sons here, and they’re all doing fine.”

&n
bsp; A loud laugh booms out of Steve’s throat. “They’re doing fine? One of your boys is charged with murder, Callum! Sorry to be the one to break it to you, but Reed’s not a good kid.”

  Outrage slams into me. “The hell I’m not.”

  “He’s a bad influence,” Steve goes on as if I hadn’t spoken. “They all are.” He looks at Ella again. “Pack your bags. I mean it.”

  She juts her chin. “No.”

  “She’s only just settled into a routine here,” Dad says in another attempt to calm Steve down. “Don’t rip her away from the place she considers home.”

  “Her home is with me,” Steve retorts. “You’re not her father—I am. And I don’t want my daughter shacking up with your son. I don’t give a shit if that makes me old-fashioned or unreasonable or whatever the hell you want to call it. She’s coming with me. You want to fight me on this? Fine. I’ll see you in family court. But right now, you can’t stop me from taking her out of this house.”

  Ella’s panicked gaze darts over to Dad, but the look in his eyes says it all—defeat.

  She turns her imploring gaze to Steve. “I want to stay here.”

  He’s unmoved by her plea. “Sorry, but that’s not an option. So, I repeat. Pack. Your. Bags.” When she doesn’t budge from my side, he claps his hands together as if she’s a trained seal. “Now.”

  Ella fists her hands at her side, waiting for my dad to jump in. When he remains silent, she stomps out angrily.

  I’m about to go after her when Steve stops me. “Reed. A minute of your time,” he says tersely.

  It’s not a question. It’s a command.

  The two men exchange glances. Dad’s face tightens and then he backs out of the room, leaving me alone with Steve.

  “What?” I say bitterly. “You gonna tell me again what a bad influence I am?”

  He walks over to the bed and stares at the rumpled covers before shifting his gaze to me. I fight the urge to fidget. Nothing Ella and I were doing in here was wrong.

  “I was once your age.”

  “Uh-huh.” Damn. I think I know where this is going.

  “I know how I treated girls, and in retrospect, I regret that a bit.” Steve runs his hand along the edge of the bed frame. “Ella’s right—I haven’t been involved in much of her life. But I’m here now. She’s had a troubled childhood, and those types of girls often look for affection in the wrong places.”

  “And I’m one of those wrong places?” I tuck my hands into my pockets and lean against the dresser. It’s sort of ironic that one of the most straight-laced girls I know with the shittiest upbringing has an absentee father giving me a lecture on doing right by his daughter. During the entire nine months or so that I dated Abby, her dad’s entire conversations with me were about the Astor Park football team.

  “Reed.” Steve softens his tone. “I love you like you’re my own son, but you have to admit that you’re in a challenging situation here. Ella’s obviously very attached to this family, but I hope you won’t take advantage of her loneliness.”

  “I’m not taking advantage of Ella in any way, sir.”

  “But you are sleeping with her,” Steve accuses.

  If he expected me to be embarrassed or ashamed, he’s pegged me all wrong. Loving Ella is one of the best things I’ve done in my short life. “I’m making her happy,” I answer simply. I have no intention of talking about our sex life. Ella would be mortified.

  Steve’s lips press together in a tight line. He’s not pleased with that response. “You’re a physical guy, Reed. You like to fight because you enjoy the impact of your fist against someone else’s flesh. You enjoy the clash of strength against strength. By the same token, you probably can’t go without sleeping around. I’m not judging you, because, hell, I’m the same way. I’m not a big believer in fidelity. If a girl’s available, who am I to say no, am I right?” He grins, inviting me to be part of that trashy lifestyle.

  “I’ve said no plenty of times,” I tell him.

  Steve snorts in disbelief. “All right, let’s just go with that. When it comes to Ella, though, if you really love her, then you’re not trying to paw her clothes off every second. I see how you look at her, kid, and it’s with a belly full of lust and not much more.” He closes the distance between us and places a heavy hand on my shoulder. “It’s not wrong. I’m not expecting you to change. I’m just saying that Ella’s not the girl to screw around with. Treat her like you’d want your own sister to be treated.”

  “She’s not my sister,” I bite out. “And I do treat her with respect.”

  “You have a murder charge hanging over your head. You might go to prison for a very long time. How’s Ella going to cope when you’re there? Do you expect her to wait around for you?”

  I speak through clenched teeth. “I didn’t do it.”

  Steve doesn’t answer.

  Does this man, who’s been part of my life for as long as I have memories, actually believe I’m capable of killing someone?

  Embittered, I study Steve’s expression. “Do you really believe I did?”

  After a beat, he squeezes my shoulder—hard. “No, of course not. But I’m thinking about Ella. I’m trying to put her first.” Those vivid blue eyes, the ones that Ella has, stare at me in challenge. “Can you honestly say you’re doing the same?”

  16

  Ella

  “You know, the reason why there’s no floor thirteen is because a large number of patrons are secretly superstitious. Hallow Oaks is rumored to be built over an old Confederate cemetery. There might be ghosts here.”

  Like the ghost of your dead body, I think sourly.

  Steve waves the keycard in front of a sensor and punches the “P” button. He’s all smiles now, as if he didn’t just drag me out of my home and to this stupid hotel.

  “So you’re not going to talk to me?” Steve asks.

  I stare straight ahead. I’m not making chitchat with this guy. He thinks he can waltz into my life after seventeen years and order me around? Welcome to parenthood, Steve. You’re in for a bumpy ride.

  “Ella, you can’t honestly believe I’d allow you to continue living with the Royals with your boyfriend down the hall.”

  It’s probably childish, but I continue to give Steve the silent treatment. Besides, if I open my mouth, something bad’s going to come out. Such as, Where the hell were you when my mom was dying of cancer? Oh, that’s right, you were hang-gliding with your evil wife.

  He sighs, and we finish the ride up to the penthouse in silence. The doors open into a wide hallway. Steve leads me down the hall, rolling my suitcase behind him. He presses the keycard against the door at the end of the hall.

  Inside, I find a living room, a dining room, and a set of stairs. I’ve spent my share of time in crappy, low-budget hotel rooms, and the stairs have never been inside a room before. I try not to gawk, but it’s hard.

  Steve picks up a leather pad from the table. “Before I show you your room, why don’t you have a look? We’ll order room service while you get settled.”

  “We just ate an hour ago,” I remind him in disbelief.

  He shrugs. “I’m hungry again. Should I order a salad for you, Dinah?” he yells.

  Dinah appears at the top of the stairs. “That’d be fine.”

  “Why don’t you call this in while I show Ella around?” He waves the menu and then sets it back on the table. Without waiting for an answer, he places a hand on my back and pushes me forward. “I’ll take the T-bone. Rare, please.”

  Past the dining room is another door. Steve opens it and gestures for me to come inside. “This is your room. It has an exterior door that leads to the hall. You’ll need your key to get up to this floor.” He holds out a plastic card, which I reluctantly pocket. “There’s daily maid service and twenty-four-hour room service. Feel free to order whatever you like. I can afford it.” He winks. I’m too busy looking around to respond. “Do you want someone up here to unpack for you?” he continues. “Dinah can help
you if you’d like.”

  Dinah would probably rather drink a bottle of bleach than help me.

  I muster up a, “No, thank you,” which generates another big smile from Steve. He apparently thinks we’re getting along swimmingly. I’m wondering if I can get the front desk to create a new keycard for Reed. Exterior door? Maybe I won’t hate it here.

  “All right. If you need anything, just holler. We’re in tight quarters here, I know, but it’ll only be a couple of weeks.” He taps the top of the suitcase before leaving.

  Tight quarters? Granted, the room is smaller than my bedroom at the Royals’, but it’s still larger than any place I’ve ever lived before. Definitely larger than any hotel room I’ve ever stayed in. I didn’t even realize they made hotel rooms this large.

  Ignoring my suitcase, I throw myself on the bed and text Reed.

  I have an exterior door.

  He texts back immediately. I’m on my way.

  I wish.

  I can b…

  Steve wld lose it.

  Don’t kno whts up his ass. He’s had more women than a rock star.

  That’s a lovely thought. Pls stop with the ur dad is a dog comments. It really grosses me out.

  Kk. Virgin. How is everything else?

  I’m a virgin bc u won’t give it up.

  I will, baby. U kno I’m dying 2. Wait till this is all cleared up.

  I’m not visiting u in prison. BTW.

  Not going to prison.

  Whatevr. What ru doing?

  In response, I get a picture of him and his brothers sitting in my bedroom.

  Why?

  Why what? Why r we in ur room? Game’s on.

  U have a media room.

  We like it here. Besides, E says ur room is full of good luck.

  I groan. Easton has gambling issues. A bookie once attacked us outside a club and I had to pay him off.

  E betting on anything?

  If he is, he’s winning bc he’s not shitting a brick over the score. I’ll watch ovr ur little East, don’t u worry.

  Ha. Thanks. I miss every1.

  A knock sounds at the door.