Broken Prince: A Novel (The Royals Book 2) (16 page)

The catering staff comes out with trays of fancy-pants lattes featuring actual designs created out of the foam. Mine’s a leaf. Brooke’s is a tree but should’ve been a pitchfork.

“Excuse me,” Dinah says as the coffee is served. “I need to use the little girls’ room.”

Reed catches my gaze and we both roll our eyes, and I instantly regret the moment of camaraderie because it brings a pleased half-smile to his lips.

This time, it’s Easton and I who beat out the brothers, slurping our lattes back in record time. We slam our cups down and speak at the same time.

“I’ll help the caterers with these dishes—”

“I’ll take in this tray—”

We glare at each other for a moment, but our mutual need to flee inspires another bonding moment.

“Ella and I will take care of this,” Easton finishes, and I nod in gratitude.

Callum is quick to protest. “The wait staff is perfectly capable of—”

But Easton and I are already gathering up random plates and cups.

As we hurry toward the French doors, I hear Reed’s grumble of annoyance tickling my back.

“Great minds think alike,” Easton murmurs.

I flash him a quick scowl. “Oh, so now we’re friends again?”

His expression flickers with guilt. When we reach the kitchen, he sets the plates in the sink, glances discreetly at the catering staff, and lowers his voice. “I’m sorry about what I said at Sav’s party. I was…wasted.”

“You’re not allowed to use that as an excuse,” I retort. “You’re
always
wasted and you’ve never said anything like that to me before.”

His cheeks redden. “I’m sorry. I’m an asshole.”

“Yup.”

“Forgive me?”

He dons his trademark little-boy look that usually makes people melt, but I’m not letting him off the hook that easily. The comment he’d made the other night was mean. And hurtful. So I shake my head at him and walk out of the kitchen.

“Ella. Come on. Wait.” He catches up to me in the hall and takes hold of my arm. “You know I say stupid shit without thinking.”

My face heats up. “You pretty much told everyone at that party that I’m a slut, Easton.”

He moans. “I know. I messed up, okay? You know I don’t think that about you. I…” His features crease. “I like you. You’re my baby sis. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Before I can respond, a soft noise snags my attention. It sounded like a groan. Or maybe a sigh?

I glance toward the end of the hall. There are only three rooms in this section of the house: a small powder room, the walk-in pantry, and a closet.

“Did you hear that?” I ask Easton.

He nods grimly.

Something compels me to creep farther down the corridor. I pause in front of the pantry, but I don’t hear anything behind the door. Same with the closet. The bathroom, though…

Easton and I both freeze when we hear the moan. It’s a woman, from the sound of it. My blood runs cold, because there are six females in the Royal mansion right now and five of them are accounted for. Brooke’s on the patio. The waitresses are in the kitchen. And I’m right here.

Which means…

I turn to Easton with wide eyes, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach.

He must have put two and two together, because his mouth falls open slightly.

“Easton,” I hiss when he reaches for the doorknob.

He holds the index finger of his free hand to his mouth. Then, to my horror, he turns the knob and eases the door open about an inch.

An inch is all we need. An inch is plenty for us to catch a glimpse of the couple inside the bathroom. Dinah’s blonde head. Gid’s dark one. His hands digging into her hips. Her body arching toward him.

With disgust in his eyes, Easton soundlessly closes the bathroom door and stumbles backward as if he was just slapped in the face.

In unspoken agreement, we don’t say a word until we’re a safe distance away.

“Oh my God,” I whisper in horror. “What the
hell
is Gideon—”

Easton clamps a hand over my mouth. “Shut up,” he says in a low voice. “We didn’t see anything, you got it?”

His hand is trembling as it drops away. He gives me one last punishing look, then spins on his heel and disappears into the foyer. A few seconds later, the front door slams.

T
he phone rings at midnight
. I’m not asleep. When I close my eyes, all I can see is Gideon and Dinah’s heads and his hands on her ass. It’s too close to how I picture Brooke and Reed, and I wonder if that’s where Reed got his stupid idea in the first place.

I stretch my arm out and grab the phone off the nightstand. The display shows Val’s pursed lips blowing me a kiss.

“Hey, girl, what’s up?” I whisper into the phone.

Silence greets me.

I sit up. “Val?”

After a shuddering breath and a half sob, I hear, “Ella, it’s me. Val.”

“I know. I saw your name on my phone. What’s wrong? Where are you?” I’m out of bed and pulling on my leggings as I wait for her response.

“South Industrial Boulevard outside some warehouse. There’s a rave.”

“What happened? Do you need a ride?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry to call you.” She sounds miserable. “I caught a ride out here because I heard Tam was in town, but I couldn’t find him, my ride took off, and it’s a bad scene.”

I sigh but offer no judgment. After all, wasn’t I kissing Reed just a few nights ago? I’m so ashamed of it that I haven’t even been able to confess this to my best friend.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I promise.

She starts to say something and then stops.

“What?” I ask, grabbing my keys off the dresser.

“It’s just…this is a rough place. You might want to bring someone with you.”

Does she mean Reed? Yeah, right. I’d cut off my leg before asking him for help. “I’ll check if Easton is home.”

“Good. I’ll wait for you here.”

I find my shoes, throw open my door, and grind to a halt when I see Reed slumped against the wall. The door strikes the wall before I can catch it and the sharp sound jerks him out of sleep.

Hooded eyes take in my clothes, bag, and keys. “Where’re we going?” he drawls, instantly alert.

“I’m going to get something to eat.” As lies go, that one sucks, but I’m sticking with it. “Easton around?” I ask casually. “Maybe he’s hungry.”

Reed pushes to his feet. “He might be. You’ll have to call him, though, because last I heard he was going out for drinks with Wade and the guys.”

Damn. “Why aren’t you there? And why are you lurking outside my room like a creeper?”

He shoots me a look of disbelief. “Isn’t it obvious?”

I shut my mouth, because it
is
obvious but, more importantly, I’m afraid if I open my mouth again, a whole slew of questions will fall out. Like how long has he been doing this, and it is because he’s afraid I’m going to run away or because he just wants to be as close as possible to me? I’m even more afraid of the answers.

And I have Val to pick up, so I turn and head downstairs. Wordlessly, Reed follows me.

He’s my silent shadow across the grand foyer and its giant chandelier, past the dining room that’s never used, and into the kitchen where I once sat on Reed’s lap wishing I was having him for breakfast instead of whatever dish Sandra had created.

“Go upstairs, Reed. I don’t need you.”

“Whose wheels are you taking?”

I stop short and he nearly steps on the back of my feet. “Oh.”

My honey, glitter, and ant-infested car is undrivable, I realize. I’d parked it in the garage that I’ve never seen Callum use, because I needed time to find a place that could clean it and I had no idea how to explain the mess to Callum in the meantime.

He reaches over and plucks my now-useless car keys out of my hand and pockets them. “Come on. I’ve got you.”

Val’s warning that I should bring someone tickles my conscience, but I don’t want to ask Reed for anything. “Can’t I just borrow your car?”

“First, it’s not a car—it’s an SUV. Second, no.”

I don’t have time to argue. Val needs me. And apparently, I need Reed. But I don’t have to be gracious about it, so I huff an angry sigh and stomp into the mudroom, grabbing the first jacket I can find. The minute I zip it up, I realize it’s Reed’s. Great. Now my nose is filled with his scent.

“Fine, but when we get there, you have to stay in the car.”

He grunts his response, which could either be agreement or
I’m not going to argue with you until I have you in the car.

“So where are we going?” he asks as I buckle in. I give him the address, and he slides me a wry look in return. “I didn’t realize the wharf was the only place to get fast food at two in the morning.”

“Heard it was the best in town,” I answer airily.

“You and I both know that you aren’t going out to pick up food. Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Not particularly, no.”

I expect him to shoot back some retort like “my car, my rules,” but instead he remains silent. His fingers flex around the steering wheel, squeezing the leather-wrapped circle. He’s probably imagining it’s my neck and that if he squeezes tight enough, I’ll eventually spill my guts and say,
oh, gosh, Reed, I don’t care that you screwed your daddy’s girlfriend and maybe got her pregnant. Come inside my bedroom and take my virginity
.

Well, if he even still wants my V-card. I mean, yeah, he
says
he wants me, but what does that mean? Is it just a matter of pride for him? A girl who turns him down is a prick to his ego so he pursues her to build his image back up?

It’s not like I can rely on my instincts anymore. After all, I let Reed in even when he was being an asshole to me. I definitely can’t trust him now that he’s being nice.

I should’ve listened to him when he told me to stay away, but I was lonely and stupid and there was something in him that called to me. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. Maybe my estrogen levels were super high and I got caught up in some kind of hormonal episode. Or maybe it’s just how I’m wired. I spent my whole life watching my mom make one bad decision after the other when it came to men. Is it really a surprise that I’m doing the same thing?

Reed reaches across the console to squeeze my knee. “You’re gonna hurt your brain, thinking that hard.”

His touch makes my pulse speed up, so I move my knee away to dislodge his hand. He gets the message and returns his grip to the steering wheel, while I stare at the dashboard trying to squash the regret that fills me.

“My problem isn’t that I’m thinking too hard—it’s that I’m not thinking enough,” I mumble.

“You don’t have problems, Ella. Not the way you think you do. You’re fine the way you are.”

The compliment sends a warm rush to my belly. Sweet, nice Reed is more potent and dangerous than asshole Reed. I can’t deal with this right now. I’m tired and my defenses are low.

“Don’t be nice to me. That’s not who you are.”

To my surprise, Reed laughs. It’s not a hearty one and it’s tinged with a shade of bitterness, but it’s still a laugh. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I think I’m lost. I think my brothers are lost, too.”

My heart flips. Oh no. Vulnerable Reed is even more dangerous. I scramble for a subject change. “Is that what’s wrong with Easton?”

“If I knew what’s up with East, I wouldn’t be going with you in the middle of the night to haul him out of whatever trouble he’s in. So if you have some ideas on how to fix him, please, I’m all ears.”

“We’re not rescuing Easton right now,” I admit. “And if you want ideas about how to help him, ask someone else. I don’t have the first clue what’s going on with him.” All I know is that Easton told me once he has addiction issues. He misses his mother desperately, loves his brothers, and is sickened by what he saw in the bathroom tonight.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask Reed about it. If he knows. But as with so many other things that go on in that household, I feel the less I know, the better.

“I don’t think he likes to be left out,” I offer reluctantly. “There’s the twins and there’s you and Gideon. Maybe he feels like he doesn’t belong.”

I know that feeling, and it might explain why Easton was so upset at seeing Gideon and Dinah together. Why he’s hooking up with Abby and Savannah. Why he’s drinking and smoking himself senseless. Maybe he’s trying to get a closer sense of his brothers and doing it in his own special messed-up Easton way.

Reed grunts. “I guess I’ve never thought of it that way.”

He taps his fingers on the steering wheel and then abruptly changes the subject. “You haven’t told my dad about your car yet.”

“How do you know I haven’t?”

“Because he’d be stomping around the house and making a thousand phone calls. And your ant-infested car wouldn’t be stashed in the garage where Dad can’t see it.”

“I’ve been calling around to find a place that will clean it up.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Any response I might have is cut short by the scene we pull up to. Cars are peeling out of a parking lot, and we hear the faint wail of sirens in the distance. When Reed slows down, I jerk open the door and hop out. Hitting the ground running, I yell, “Val! Val! Where are you?”

A slender figure separates itself from a straggly bush lining the sidewalk and throws itself at me.

“Oh my God, I thought you’d never get here!” Val sobs in my ear.

I pull back to see a bruise forming beside her left eye and a red mark on her forehead. “What happened?” I exclaim.

“I’ll tell you in the car. Please let’s go.”

“Of course.” I wrap my arm around her, but when we start for the car, Val stumbles, nearly taking me with her.

Reed appears at my side and lifts Val into his arms. He nods toward the car. “Let’s go.”

This time I don’t hesitate to listen to him. The sirens are getting closer and there are people jostling us, running around, racing away.

Reed hurries to his Rover. While I hold open the car door, he slides Val into the backseat. I climb in after her as Reed jumps into the driver’s seat.

“Don’t take me home. Please, I can’t deal with Jordan tonight,” Val whimpers.

“Of course not. You can stay with me.”

Reed gives me a nod that he’s heard me, and he takes off, heading north toward home.

“Who did this to you, Val?” he demands. “I’m gonna kick his ass.”

Val leans her head back against the seat. She’s exhausted, emotionally and physically.

“You don’t have to talk about it.” I rub my hand down her bare arm. Her cute outfit—a crop top and embroidered shorts—looks intact. I don’t see any signs of injury other than the ones on her face.

“It’s fine.” She gives me a sad smile. “I ran into an ex of Tam’s. We got into a ridiculous fight, so if you’re going to kick anyone’s ass, it’ll be mine.”

She closes her eyes and silent tears rain down her face. I slide over and wrap one arm around her, holding her close for the rest of the drive.

When we get home, I help her up to the bedroom, and she collapses on my bed. I pull her shoes off, strip off her shorts and top, and grab a bottle of water from my fridge. She takes it with a grateful smile.

“Do you want Astor Football or this old Iron Man T-shirt?”

She looks pointedly at the football T-shirt but gestures to the other one. “Iron Man, please.”

I toss her Iron Man, glad she doesn’t ask why I still have one of Reed’s old workout shirts. My answer would be that it’s comfortable. I mean, it really is comfortable, but anyone with half a brain would guess I’ve kept it for other reasons.

Val slips under the covers just as Reed appears with a pill bottle. “Valium,” he says, walking through the door I’d left open.

I don’t ask why he has a prescription for it. I just shake out one pill and give it to Val.

“You two need anything else?”

“No, thanks,” I answer.

He shifts from one foot to the other and then reluctantly leaves.

Val falls asleep almost immediately, but I’m too wired to crash. I curl up next to her and just lie there for a while, until a noise in the hall captures my attention. Careful not to wake my friend, I creep across the room and crack the door open.

Sure enough, Reed is settling down outside my door.

“Go to bed,” I hiss.

He opens one eye. “I am in bed.”

“There’s no bed in the hall.”

“Don’t need one.”

“Fine.” I start to slam the door but remember Val at the last second. The door closes with a soft snick and I lean against it, forcing myself to remember how I don’t love him. How he was cruel to me. How I spent my weeks away tormented with visions of him and Brooke together and wanting to just curl up and die but instead getting up every morning to hustle and find work.

And now he’s sitting outside my door, trying to make me believe he’s changed.

I wrench open the door again and stomp out. “Why are you here?” The words come out like a plea rather than an accusation.

Reed stands up. He’s wearing a black wifebeater and track pants that ride low on his hips, and his biceps flex when he reaches for me. “You know why.”

The fire in his eyes simultaneously turns me on and fuels my anger. “Don’t touch me.”

He lets his arm drop, and I hate the disappointment that I feel.
Get it together, Ella!

“Fine,” he rasps. “You do the touching.”

My eyes widen as he starts tearing off his clothes right there in the hall.

Naked Reed with his rippling chest and his rock hard thighs and that thin line of hair that arrows down to his waistband? No. No.
No!

“Put this back on,” I order, throwing his shirt back in his face.

“No.” He snatches it out of the air and tosses it aside.

And then he pulls me against him.

Every inch of him is hard. Every inch.

I expect another hot, frantic make-out, like the one in Savannah’s driveway, but Reed surprises me. His touch is gentle as he skims his fingers over my cheek. His breathing thins, and then those fingers tenderly slide through my hair, angling my head perfectly for his kiss.

It’s the sweetest kiss we’ve ever shared. Slow. Soft. The feather-light brush of his lips, the tentative swirl of his tongue. I can feel him shaking, but I don’t know if it’s because he’s nervous or excited or both.

I scream at myself to move, to push him away. If I call for help, maybe he’ll stop kissing me like I’m the single-most important person in his world.