Twisted Palace

  Last night, he informed me he was imposing a curfew. I have to be home by ten each evening, and I have to turn on the location finder on my phone so he can keep tabs on me. I’ve already decided that in the future I’ll be leaving my phone at home. There’s no way I’m making it easier for him to find me.

  The problem is, this Friday is the Riders’ first playoffs game. Reed was cleared to play, and I desperately want to go because I’ve decided I’m done with Reed’s reluctance. Every day that he’s the prime suspect in Brooke’s case is a day that rattles my sense of security. If we’re supposed to act normally, if we’re supposed to at least pretend that all is well in our lives, then this distance between us should not exist.

  It’s time for us to have sex. I don’t care if I have to play dirty to make that happen. So I’m going to seduce him. The away game is the perfect place to do it, and there’s an amusement park thirty minutes away that a bunch of kids were talking about going to. The plan is—or was—to use that as an excuse to stay overnight.

  Except now, with Steve’s stupid curfew, I don’t know how I’ll be able to swing it. Hopefully Val can help me figure it out today. But I’m going on that away trip, one way or another.

  I finish brushing my hair, tuck my shirt into my skirt, and grab my backpack.

  Out in the living room, Steve is lounging on the couch, paging through a newspaper. Doesn’t he ever work?

  Dinah is at the dining table, sipping a flute of orange juice. Or maybe it’s a mimosa because I don’t think people use fancy glasses for their OJ.

  She eyes me over the rim, a smirk forming on her pouty lips. “That skirt is rather short for school, don’t you think?”

  The paper rustles as Steve lowers it. He frowns as he examines my uniform.

  I look down at my white shirt, open blue blazer and ugly pleated skirt. “This is my uniform.”

  Dinah glances at her husband. “I didn’t realize the headmaster at Astor Park Prep encouraged his female students to dress like whores.”

  My jaw drops. First of all, the skirt goes all the way down to my knees. Second of all, who says things like that?

  Steve continues to study my skirt. Then he slaps the paper down by his side and glares at me. “Go back to your room and change.”

  I glare right back. “This is my uniform,” I repeat. “If you don’t like it, take it up with Beringer.”

  He points a finger at my legs. “You can wear pants. I’m certain that in this day and age, that’s an option for a school uniform.”

  This is a stupid conversation, so I walk toward the door. “I don’t have pants.” Well, actually, I do. But those khaki monstrosities are ugly as hell, no matter that they have a three-hundred-dollar price tag. I’m not putting those things on my body.

  “Of course she has pants,” Dinah says, laughing gleefully. “But we all know why she chooses not to wear them. Easier access with a skirt.”

  Another frown slashes Steve’s face. “She’s right,” he tells me. “I had my share of fun times with girls in skirts. They’re easy lays. Is that what you want to be? Easy Ella?”

  Dinah titters.

  I clutch the strap of my backpack and turn the doorknob. If I had a gun, maybe I’d shoot Dinah with it.

  “I’m going to school,” I say stiffly. “I’ve already missed one entire day of classes so you could drive around Bayview. I’m not going to be late because you have a problem with my school uniform.”

  Steve stomps over and lays his palm on the door. “I’m trying to help you. Girls who put out are disposable. I don’t want that for you.”

  I pull the door open with a sharp jerk. “Girls who put out are girls who want to have sex. There’s nothing immoral about that. Or gross. Or deviant. If I choose to have sex, then that’s what’s going to happen. It’s my body.”

  “Not while you live in my house,” he thunders, hurrying after me down the hall. Dinah’s laughter follows us all the way to the elevator.

  I jab the down button. “Then I’ll move.”

  “And I’ll have you hauled back here. Is that what you want?” At my silence, he sighs with frustration. In a softer tone, he says, “I’m not trying to be a bad guy, Ella, but you’re my daughter. What kind of dad would I be if I just let you run around and sleep with your boyfriend?”

  “My boyfriend is your best friend’s son,” I remind him. I will the elevator to arrive faster, but it seems to be climbing the forty-four floors one excruciating second at a time.

  “I know. Why do you think I’m so anxious about you dating him? Callum’s kids are wild. They’re experienced. That’s not what I want for you.”

  “Being a little hypocritical here, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” He throws up his arms. “I don’t deny it. The last thing in the world I want for you is to date the guy I was in high school. I had no respect for girls. All I wanted was to get in their pants, or under their skirts.” He throws a pointed gaze at my hemline. “And once I had them, I moved on.”

  “Reed’s not like that.”

  Steve gives me a look of pity. “Honey, I told all the girls I wanted to have sex with that they were special and the only ones for me, too. I’ve used all those lines before. I would’ve said anything to get a girl to say yes.” I open my mouth to protest, but Steve keeps talking. “And before you say that Reed is different, let me point out that I’ve known that boy for eighteen years and you’ve known him for a few months. Who has the more informed perspective?”

  “He’s not like that,” I insist. “He’s the one who’s holding out on me. Not the other way around.”

  Steve laughs abruptly. Shaking his head, he says, “Damn, that boy’s got moves I hadn’t even thought of. I’ll give him that.”

  I blink in confusion.

  “Pretending to be reluctant and forcing you to make all the moves? He must be loving that.” He sobers up. “No, Ella, you’re just going to have to take my word on this. Reed’s been around the block so many times, there’s probably a trench built from all his activity. There’ve got to be other nice boys at Astor for you to date. Why don’t you find one and we’ll revisit this conversation?”

  I can’t mask my astonishment. “I don’t work that way. I don’t discard people like that. Reed is not disposable in my life.” I’m not like you.

  “Let’s see how long his affections last when he doesn’t have access to you. Don’t be so easy, Ella. It’s not attractive.”

  If I’d been the child Steve pretends that I am, I would’ve shouted an insult back. One burns at the back of my throat. One that says he needs to stop measuring me by his own miserable stick. But I’m not going to get anywhere by confronting Steve. Thankfully, the elevator finally fucking arrives.

  “I need to get to school,” I inform him as I step inside the car.

  “Classes are over at three forty. I expect you here by four.”

  The elevator doors slide shut.

  A tension headache pounds at my temples as I speed out of the basement parking garage three minutes later. The relentless throb of frustration doesn’t let up until I reach Astor Park.

  How ironic that the place I once hated now feels like a refuge.

  17

  Reed

  Worst weekend of my life. No lie.

  I spent all of Saturday with Halston Grier going over the details of my case. My lawyer maintains that the DNA—my DNA—they found under Brooke’s fingernails is the most damning piece of evidence the cops have. He admitted that my explanation about Brooke scratching me out of anger might not sway a jury if this goes to court, especially combined with the video surveillance.

  I can’t even remember her scratching me. My memory of the event is her demanding money, me laughing at her, her swinging a hand toward my face and not connecting. She wobbled on her feet. I caught her and pushed her away. She must’ve grazed me then.

  Which makes all of this so much bullshit. I didn’t kill that woman. Just because her fingernails didn’t break any of my sk
in doesn’t mean she didn’t scratch me. I’ve offered to take a lie detector test, but Grier says that even if I pass with flying colors, polygraph results aren’t admissible in court. And if I fail the thing, he warned that the police might find a way to leak those results to the press, who would crucify me.

  Sunday, I wallowed around the house missing Ella, and not because I want to bone her, like Steve thinks. I miss her company, her laughter, and her smart-ass taunts. Steve kept her busy all weekend, so we were only able to text and talk on the phone a couple of times. I hate that she’s not living with us anymore. She belongs here. Even Dad agrees, but when I pushed him to talk to Steve about it, he shrugged and said, “He’s her father, Reed. Let’s just see how it goes.”

  When Monday finally comes, I’m practically dying of anticipation. Even though I’m released to practice, Coach has me running no-contact drills only, and he says there’s no guarantee I’m going to see playing time on Friday. He’s still pissed at me about the fight with Ronnie last week.

  Speaking of Ronnie, the asshat wanders over to the bench a few times to harass me, calling me “killer” under his breath so Coach can’t hear.

  I don’t give a crap what he thinks of me, though. The only opinions that matter belong to my family and Ella, and none of them believes I’m a killer.

  “You’re going the wrong way,” East says with a grin as we walk across the south lawn after practice. “Don’t you have Bio?”

  I do, but I’m not going there. Ella just texted to meet her at her locker. It’s in the junior wing of the school, the opposite direction of the senior buildings.

  “I’ve got somewhere to be,” is all I say, and my brother waggles his eyebrows mischievously.

  “Gotcha. Tell little sis I said hi.”

  We part ways at the front doors, East darting off to his first class while I march down the hall toward the junior locker banks. Several girls smile at me, but just as many frown. Furtive whispers tickle my back as I walk. I hear the word “police” and someone else says, “father’s girlfriend.”

  Other guys might flush with embarrassment or cower in shame, but I don’t care about any of these kids. My shoulders are straight and my head is held high as I brush past them.

  Ella’s entire face lights up when she spots me. She launches herself at me, and I catch her easily, burying my face in her neck and breathing in her sweet scent.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey,” she says with a smile. “I missed you.”

  “Missed you, too.” A groan slips out. “You have no idea how much.”

  Sympathy fills her eyes. “Are you still upset about the meeting with the lawyer?”

  “A little. But I don’t want to talk about that right now. I want to do this.”

  I kiss her, and she makes the hottest sound against my lips. Kind of a whimper crossed with a happy moan. I slip her some tongue just so I can hear her make that noise again. She does, and my body tightens.

  “Ahem.”

  A loud throat-clearing has us breaking apart.

  I turn, nodding politely at the teacher standing behind us. “Ms. Wallace. Morning.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Royal.” Her lips flatten in a severe line. “Ms. Harper. I think it’s time for you two to go to class.”

  I nod again and take Ella’s hand. “On our way,” I assure the frowning teacher. “I’m walking Ella there now.”

  Ella and I hurry away from the locker, but I don’t walk her to class like I said. Instead, I turn left at the end of the hall. Once we’re out of Ms. Wallace’s line of sight, I tug Ella into the first empty classroom I find. It’s one of the junior music rooms, completely dark because the heavy gold drapes are drawn shut.

  “What are we doing?” Ella hisses, but she’s laughing.

  “Finishing what we started back there,” I reply, my hands already landing on her slim hips. “One kiss wasn’t enough.”

  One anything is never enough with this girl. I don’t know how I ever lived without her. I mean, I went out with other girls. Slept with a few of them. But I’ve always been picky as hell. Nobody ever really held my interest for more than a week or two, sometimes not more than a day, an hour.

  Not Ella, though. She got under my skin the moment I met her, and she’s still there, in my blood, in my heart.

  Our lips meet again, and this kiss is hotter than the first. Her tongue is in my mouth and my hands are on her ass, and when she starts wiggling her lower body against my crotch, I lose all awareness of our surroundings.

  “C’mere,” I mutter, dragging her to the teacher’s desk.

  She hops up, and I instantly move between the cradle of her thighs. Her legs wrap around my waist and then we’re rocking against each other. It’s hot as hell. Even hotter because we’re at school and I can hear footsteps thumping up and down the hall outside the door.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this here,” she says breathlessly.

  “Probably not. But tell me to stop. I dare you.” I’m not going to have sex with her, but I can’t keep my hands off of her, and I know I can make her feel good. I’m totally putting her first—just not in the way her dad wants. Screw Steve, though.

  She laughs again.

  I slip my hand under her skirt and wink at her. “Gotta love the easy access.”

  That gets me a startled snicker.

  “What?” I ask with a frown.

  “Don’t worry about it.” She grins widely, then squeaks in pleasure when my fingers find her.

  Rather than push me away, she arches into my greedy hand. Her hands are equally greedy, undoing the buttons of my dress shirt.

  “Need to touch you,” she mumbles.

  I’m not complaining. The feel of her small, warm palms on my bare chest sends a jolt of heat up my spine. We’ve never fooled around at school before, but Steve is making it really fucking hard to see each other outside of it. He hasn’t let me come over to the hotel even once since he moved Ella out of the mansion.

  Our kisses get sloppier, more frantic. I slide a finger inside her and groan against her mouth. I want to get her off before class so she’ll be thinking about me all day. Maybe I’ll do it again at lunch, take her to the bathroom that Wade dubbed the Hook-Up Zone and—

  The door flies open and light suddenly floods the room.

  Ella and I break apart, but not fast enough. The tall, gray-haired music teacher in the doorway gets an eyeful of my hand flying out from under Ella’s skirt. Of my half-open shirt and our swollen lips.

  He sighs in disapproval, then snaps, “Fix yourselves up. You’re going to see Beringer.”

  Shit.

  * * *

  The headmaster calls our parents. I’m fuming when Dad and Steve stalk into the waiting room outside Beringer’s office, because, come on. Since when does Beringer call in the big guns over a couple kids making out in school? It happens every other minute. Wade has sex here, for fuck’s sake.

  It doesn’t take long for understanding to dawn on me, though. Because the first thing Steve does after he storms in is shake Beringer’s hand and say, “Thank you for calling me. I feared something like this might happen.”

  In the chair beside mine, Ella is beet red. She’s clearly embarrassed, but there’s fire in her eyes, too. Anger. Like me, she knows that Steve is responsible for this. He must’ve warned the faculty to keep an eye out for us.

  “Get up,” Steve tells Ella. “You’re coming home with me.”

  She bursts out with an objection. “No! You can’t take me out of school again. I’m not missing any more classes, Steve.”

  His tone is like ice. “You had no problem missing class before. Francois says you were ten minutes late for first period.”

  Ella falls silent.

  Dad is unusually quiet, too. He’s watching me with an indescribable expression. It doesn’t look like disapproval or disappointment. I can’t figure it out at all.

  “This kind of behavior is unacceptable,” Steve fumes. “This is a place of learning.?
??

  “Yes, it is,” Beringer agrees coldly. “And I assure you, Mr. O’Halloran, these kinds of shenanigans won’t be tolerated.”

  My jaw drops. “Really? But letting Jordan Carrington duct-tape a freshman to the front entrance is A-OK?”

  “Reed,” my father warns.

  I spin toward him. “What? You know I’m right. Jordan freaking assaulted another student, and he”—I rudely gesture at the headmaster—“totally let it slide. Ella and I are caught making out like two normal teenagers and—”

  “Normal teenagers?” Steve echoes with a harsh laugh. “You’ve got a plea hearing this week, Reed! You’re facing a murder charge.”

  Frustration shoots through me. Christ. I don’t need the reminder. I’m well aware of how screwed I am right now.

  Then I register what he’d said. “What plea hearing?” I ask my dad.

  His features go strained. “We’ll discuss it when you get home from school.”

  “You can discuss it on your way home,” Beringer interjects, “because I’m suspending Reed for two days.”

  “What the fuck?” I demand angrily.

  “Language,” the headmaster snaps. “And you heard me. Two-day suspension.” He glances at Steve. “Ella can remain at school, if that’s acceptable to you.”

  After a long, tense moment, Steve nods. “It’s acceptable. As long as he’s not here, I’m all right with letting her stay.”

  Steve says he like I’m a carrier for Ebola or some shit. I don’t get it. I really don’t. Steve and I never had any problems in the past. We weren’t close, but there was no hostility between us. Now, the air is so hostile I can hardly breathe.

  “Then it’s settled.” Beringer walks around his desk. “Mr. Royal, I’m releasing Reed into your custody. Ella, you may return to class.”

  She hesitates, but when Steve offers a hard glare, she quickly moves to the door. Right before she walks out, she gives me the most miserable, frustrated look on the planet. I’m pretty sure I’m wearing the same expression.