Paper Princess: A Novel (The Royals Book 1) (21 page)

“
Y
ou doing good
, little sis?” Easton eyes me from the kitchen table as I stagger into the kitchen feeling like I’d been run over by an eighteen-wheeler.

“No. I feel awful.” I pour myself a glass of water at the sink, chug it, then pour another one.

Easton’s tone is lined with sympathy. “You crashed hard, huh? Happened to me, too, the first time molly walked into my life.”

“Molly?” Callum’s curious voice says from the doorway. “Got a new girlfriend, Easton? What happened to Claire?”

I can see Easton fighting back laughter. “Claire and I are dunzo. But this Molly chick is pretty cool.” He shoots me an impish grin.

My head is pounding too hard for me to even crack a smile. Callum’s gaze shifts to me, and he’s visibly startled. “Ella, you look terrible.” Suspicion darkens his face as he swings back to his son. “What kind of trouble did you get her into last night?”

“Just the usual liquid trouble. Turns out Ella can’t handle her liquor.”

I give him a grateful look behind Callum’s back. I guess the Royal truce also includes covering for each other. Not that I willingly took drugs last night. My hands curl into fists as I remember Daniel’s lust-glazed eyes and the way he’d groped me.

“You got drunk last night?” Callum’s mouth is tight as he turns back to me.

“A little,” I confess.

“Oh, come on, Dad, don’t get all parental on us now,” Easton pipes up. “You gave me my first beer when I was twelve.”

“Eleven for me,” Gideon says, striding into the kitchen. He’s shirtless, and there’s a noticeable scratch mark over his left pec. He glances at me, his sympathy obvious. “How you feeling?”

“Hung over,” Easton answers for me, then glances pointedly at his brother when their dad isn’t looking.

Callum still isn’t happy with me. “I don’t want you drinking excessively.”

“You jealous she might dethrone you as Excessive Drinking Champion of the Royal family?” Easton cracks.

“That’s enough, Easton.”

“Hey, just pointing out the hypocrisy, Dad. And, apparently, the double standard. You don’t give a shit when any of us get wasted, so why can’t Ella?”

Callum looks from his sons to me, then shakes his head. “I guess I should be happy that you all are sticking up for each other now.”

Footsteps echo in the hall, and my breath lodges in my throat when Reed enters the kitchen. Black track pants ride low on his hips, and his muscular chest is bare and slightly damp, as if he’s just come out of the shower.

He doesn’t look at me as he heads for the fridge.

My spirits plummet, though I’m not sure what kind of reaction I expected. Waking up alone was a clear message. And what he’d said yesterday—
this can’t happen again
—only makes that message clearer.

“Oh, Ella,” Callum says suddenly. “I forgot to tell you. Your car is arriving tomorrow, so you’ll be able to drive yourself to work on Monday morning.”

Although I’m relieved that Callum can finally say the word “work” without frowning at me, I’m also hit with a rush of disappointment. At the fridge, Reed’s back stiffens. He knows what this means, too. No more carpooling for us.

“That’s great,” I say meekly.

“Anyway.” Callum glances around the kitchen. “What’s everyone’s plans for today? Ella, I was thinking you and I could go to—”

“I’m going to the pier with Valerie,” I interrupt. “We’re having lunch at this seafood restaurant right on the water that she keeps raving about.”

He seems disappointed. “Oh, all right. That sounds like fun.” He turns to his sons. “Anyone want to hit the driving range with me? It’s been ages since we’ve all gone.”

Not a single Royal brother takes him up on his invitation, and when Callum trudges out of the kitchen looking like a lost puppy, I can’t help but frown.

“You guys can’t even try to make an effort?” I ask them.

“Trust me, we make an effort.” It’s Gideon who answers, and his ugly sneer catches me off-guard.

When he stalks off, I look at Easton. “What’s up his ass?”

“No clue.”

For once, Easton is as clueless as I am, but Reed must know something we both don’t, because he scowls and says, “Lay off Gid.”

Then he walks out, too. He hadn’t looked at me, not even once, and the pain that squeezes my heart is a thousand times worse than any hangover.

L
unch with Valerie is fun
, but I beg off early because my head still feels like it’s being stabbed with rusty knives. She laughs and tells me that the bigger the hangover, the better the party must have been, and I let her believe the same thing Callum believes—that I drank a little too much and now I’m being punished for it.

I don’t know why I don’t tell her about Daniel. Val is my friend, and she’d be the first person in line to beat the bejeezus out of Daniel for what he did to me. But something holds me back from telling her. Maybe it’s shame.

I shouldn’t feel ashamed. I
shouldn’t
. I didn’t do anything wrong, and if I’d had even the slightest suspicion that Daniel was such a psycho, I never would have gone into the pool house with him. Ever.

But each time I think about last night, I picture myself ripping my clothes off and whispering Reed’s name while Daniel’s slimy hands ran all over my body. I picture that and I’m flooded with shame.

And I can’t even distract myself by thinking about what happened afterward—the good part, when I was whispering Reed’s name for other reasons. I can’t think about it because it makes me sad. Reed wanted me last night, and he gave me as much of himself as he’d been willing to give, but now he’s taken it away again.

Valerie drops me off at the mansion and speeds off in her housekeeper’s car. She told me at lunch that her boyfriend is coming home next weekend, and I’m looking forward to meeting the guy. The amount of time she spends talking about Tam, I feel like I already known him.

It’s another beautiful afternoon, so I decide to change into my bathing suit and lie by the pool for a while. Hopefully the sunshine will make me feel human again. I grab a book and get settled on a lounger, but I only have about twenty minutes of solitude before Gideon strides out in his Speedo.

Of all the Royal brothers, Gideon is probably the one with the least amount of body fat. He has a swimmer’s frame, and Easton told me he got a full ride to college on a swim scholarship. The twins insist that he’ll be winning gold at the next summer Olympics, but it’s a good thing there are no Olympic officials around today, because they’d reject him in a heartbeat. His strokes are uneven, and his pace is alarmingly slow.

But maybe I’m worried for nothing. I mean, I’ve only seen him swim one other time. Maybe he’s just taking it easy today.

“Ella,” he calls as he heaves himself out of the pool nearly an hour later.

“Yeah?”

He walks toward me, dripping water all over the deck. “There’s a party on the beach tonight. At the Worthington estate.” He rubs his towel over his chest. “I want you to stay home.”

I arch a brow. “You’re in charge of my social calendar now?”

“Tonight I am.” His tone brooks no argument. “I mean it. Stay away from the party.”

After last night, I have no interest in going to another party ever again, but I still don’t appreciate being told what to do. “Maybe.”

“No maybe about it. Stay home.”

He disappears into the house, and not even five minutes later, Easton walks out and looms over my chair. “Brent Worthington is having a—”

“A party,” I finish. “Yeah, I know all about it.”

He rubs a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “You’re not going.”

“You’ve been talking to Gideon, I see.”

His expression reveals that he has, but then he tries a different approach, flashing me that boyish grin of his. “Look, there’s no reason for you to go out, little sis. Take the night off, relax, watch some soap operas—”

“Soap operas? Who do you think I am, a fifty-year-old housewife?”

He snickers. “Fine, then watch some porn. But you’re not coming with us tonight.”

“Us?” I echo. “Is Reed going?”

Easton shrugs, and the way he avoids my gaze raises my hackles. What the hell do they have planned for tonight? Panic tugs at my belly. Is Daniel going to be there? Is that why they want to keep me away?

I don’t get a chance to ask the question, because Easton is already dashing off. Sighing, I pick up my book and try to concentrate on the chapter I’m reading, but it’s no use. I’m worried again.

“Hey.”

I look up and find Reed approaching. For the first time today, he actually meets my eyes.

He lowers his broad body into the chair next to mine. “How you feeling?”

I tuck my book at my side. “Better. My head isn’t pounding anymore, but my body still feels kinda weak.”

He nods. “You should eat something.”

“I did.”

“Then eat more.”

“Trust me, I’m stuffed.” A grin springs to my lips. “Valerie shoved an insane amount of shrimp and crab legs down my throat at lunch.”

His lips twitch.

Smile
, I beg silently at him.
Smile at me. Touch me. Kiss me. Anything
.

The smile doesn’t surface. “Listen, about last night…” He clears his throat. “I need to know something.”

My forehead creases. “Okay.”

“Did you…was it…” He lets out a breath. “Do you feel like I took advantage of you?”

“What? Of course not.”

But the intensity in his eyes doesn’t waver. “You need to be straight with me. If you feel like I took advantage, or did anything you didn’t want me to do…you have to tell me.”

I sit up and lean toward him, cupping his face with both hands. “You didn’t do anything that I didn’t want you to do.”

His relief is obvious. When I sweep my thumbs over his jaw, his breath hitches. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” I whisper.

“You know what.” Groaning, he moves my hands off his face and rises unsteadily to his feet. “It can’t happen again. I won’t let it.”

Frustration jams inside me. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not right. I’m not…I don’t want you, okay?” A sneer forms. “I was being nice to you last night because you were hopped up on E and you needed some relief. I was just doing you a solid, but that’s all it was. I don’t want you.”

He marches away before I can answer. Or rather, before I can call him a big fat liar. He doesn’t want me? Bullshit. If he didn’t want me, then he wouldn’t have kissed me like he was a starving man and I was his only source of nourishment. If he didn’t want me, he wouldn’t have worshipped my body like it was the greatest gift he’d ever received, or held me in his arms until I fell asleep.

He’s lying to me, and now my concern levels are at an all-time high. Not just concern, but determination, because clearly Reed Royal has secrets I can’t even begin to decode.

But I will. I’m going to find out everything. Why he keeps everyone at a distance, why he feels unworthy, why he’s pretending there isn’t something between us when we both know there is. I’m going to learn all his secrets, dammit.

Which means…I guess I’m going to another party tonight.

I
need reinforcements or
, at the very least, intel. From what Gideon said, the Worthingtons live down the shore and close enough that you must be able to hear some noise at the Royal property. They also must have kids close in age to the Royal brothers. But that’s about it.

Good thing I know someone who’s gossip central.

Valerie answers on the first ring. “You need more seafood? I told you that the best cure for a hangover is food.”

The thought of even one more piece of shellfish in my stomach makes me want to barf. “No thanks. I was wondering if you were done Skyping with Tam and wanted to come over and spy on the Royals with me.”

Valerie sucks in a breath. “I’ll be right over.”

“Hey,” I interject before she hangs up. “Do you have a car?”

“No. And you can’t ask one of the brothers to pick me up, can you?” she says glumly.

“Don’t worry. Durand will pick you up. Hell, once I tell Callum I want to have a friend over, he’ll volunteer.”

“Oh, Callum. Nice. He’s hot for an old guy.”

“Gross, Valerie. He’s like over forty.”

“So? He’s what they call a silver fox. You know who’s into those?”

“I have no idea. One of the Pastels?”

“Oh hell no. Those girls wouldn’t know what to do with an adult male, let alone one with a few decades under his belt. Jordan’s older sister! She’s twenty-two and constantly bringing home old guys. The last one actually had gray hair and I swear he was older than Uncle Brian. I can’t decide whether she’s super kinky and these are the only guys who know what they’re doing, or if she has daddy issues.”

“My insult to Jordan at her party might have hit a little too close to home then?”

“Probably didn’t help,” Valerie says cheerfully.

“I’m hanging up now because I’m seriously thinking of vomiting up my lunch over this discussion.” I lay the phone down and try to scrub any thoughts of Callum doing kinky things from my brain.

Fortunately, Durand is available and Valerie is brought to the Royal estate in quick order.

“Wow, this place is so…” She gropes for the right word as she gapes at my bedroom.

I supply several. “Juvenile? Girlie? An homage to Valentine’s Day gone wrong?”

She falls backward on the pink ruffled bedspread. “Interesting.”

“That’s one word for it.” I settle into the white fur-covered vanity chair and watch Valerie bat at the sheer curtains that hang around the four-poster bed. “Want something to drink? I actually have a mini fridge in here.” I open the glass door of the beverage cooler situated under the counter of the vanity.

“Sure. I’ll have diet whatever. Besides the pink, this is a great room. Television, posh bed.” She touches the bedspread. “Is this silk?”

I have my hand in the fridge when she drops that bomb. “I’m sleeping on a silk blanket?”

“Technically you sleep under it. I mean, you don’t have to but you’re supposed to sleep on the sheets and under the coverlet.” Valerie looks all concerned as if my upbringing was so bizarre I might not know about sheets. Sadly, she’s not
that
far from the truth.

“I know that, smart ass.” I pull out a Diet Coke and shove it in her hand. I pop one open for myself. “It’s just weird. I went from sleeping bag to silk blankets or—excuse me—coverlets,” I correct myself before Valerie can. But enough about bed stuff. I need intel. “Tell me everything you know about the Worthingtons,” I order.

“The telecom Worthingtons or the real estate Worthingtons?” she asks, her mouth still around the opening of the pop can.

“I have no clue. They live close to here and are having a beach party tonight.”

“Oh, then the telecom Worthingtons. They live about five houses down.” She holds up her can. “Do you have a coaster?”

I throw her a notebook, which she uses to set her can on.

“Brent Worthington is a senior. He’s super uptight, although more about name recognition than money. His girlfriend Lindsey’s parents had to declare bankruptcy a couple of years ago and pulled Lindsey from Astor Park because they couldn’t afford the tuition, but Brent never broke up with her because Lindsey is a DAR.”

“What do the Dars do?” I ask.

Valerie laughs and shakes her head. “No, that’s not a last name. Daughters of the American Revolution. She can trace her family tree back to one of the original three boats that came over from England.”

“That’s a thing?” I gape.

“Yup. So what’s going on?”

“The Royals are going there tonight and told me to stay away.”

“Why? Those parties are pretty bland as far as high school events go. They lock all the doors in the house because Brent doesn’t want anyone having sex in the rooms. There’s one bathroom that people are allowed to use and it’s right off the patio. The pool house is locked, too. Brent has it catered and likes for everyone to show up like they’re about to go yachting. He even wears his country club sports coat and all of the girls wear dresses. No exceptions.”

Sounds terrible. If the Royals had given me this rundown, they wouldn’t have even needed to warn me away. But they did, so that means something is happening that they don’t want me to see or be a part of.

“Would Daniel Delacorte be invited?”

She considers it and then nods slowly. “Yeah. His father is a judge. I think Daniel plans to be one, too, and you can’t have too many judges as your BFFs, right?”

It occurs to me then and there that this is why the rich get richer. They form these bonds in high school, maybe even earlier, and when they get older, they just continue to scratch each other’s backs.

“Did something happen between you and Daniel the other night? I know you were hung over but Jordan said you were so trashed Reed had to carry you out of Farris’s house. He didn’t…do something?” She looks worried.

I don’t want to tell Valerie about the awfulness of that night, but if she’s going to be involved, then she deserves something. “He thought I was easy. I’m not. And the Royals don’t like it when their maybe, not really, but kind of sister is messed with. Let’s leave it at that.”

She screws up her face. “God, what a douche. But why am I here if the Royals are already exacting revenge?”

“I don’t know if they are, only that three of them told me I wasn’t to come to the Worthington party tonight no matter what.”

Valerie’s eyes light up. “I love that you don’t care what the Royals think.” She hops off the bed and throws open my closet door. “Let’s see what Worthington-approved dresses you have.”

I drink the rest of my Coke as Valerie rifles through, and discards, item after item.

“You need more clothes. Even the Carringtons stuff my closet full of anything I want. It keeps up appearances, you know. I didn’t realize Callum was that stingy with you.”

“He’s not,” I answer, stung on Callum’s behalf. “I had to go shopping with Brooke and the places she took me were too expensive.”

“Everything around here is expensive.” Valerie waves her hand. “Think of it as an extension of your uniform. Besides, if you look bad, then people will think the same thing I did—that Callum is being cheap with you. Ah ha!” She pulls out a navy sundress with tiny cap sleeves and a deep V-neck edged in white lace. I don’t remember seeing it, which means Brooke must have picked it out when I wasn’t looking. “This is nice. It has a deep neckline that says I’m sexy without saying I charge fifty bucks and I’d like my cash up front.”

“I’m bowing to your better judgment.” In my former line of work, you’d need a neckline a heck of a lot deeper than that to get fifty bucks up front. I cross the room and start to change. It’s getting late and I want to make sure I head over to the party before the fireworks start.

“You okay if I borrow this dress?” Valerie drapes a white lace number against her body.

“Knock yourself out.” She’s an inch shorter than me and given the length of the skirt, the hem should hit her around mid-thigh. “Out of curiosity, how many dresses do I need?” Two seems plenty.

“A couple dozen.”

I whirl around, but Valerie looks dead serious. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.” She hangs the dress back in the closet and starts poking up her fingers one by one. “You need afternoon dresses, boating dresses, clubbing dresses—both the country club and the night club kind”—my head is spinning— “garden party dresses, official school party dresses, after school dresses, wedding dresses, funeral dresses—”

“Did you say funeral dresses?” I interrupt.

Valerie points her finger and winks. “Just making sure you were paying attention.” She laughs when I roll my eyes, and starts undressing. “You do need a lot more clothes than you have. Appearances are important, even to the Royals.” Her voice is muffled as she pulls her shirt over her head. “Example—say even the most minor negative thing about Maria Royal and all her sons go crazy. Reed almost got locked up for assault after some kid from South East High called her a pill-popping suicide case.”

“He accused Maria of killing herself?” I exclaim, shocked by that.

Valerie looks around as if expecting to see Reed jump out at her. Then she lowers her voice and says, “It’s a rumor, and one the Royals don’t like. They even sued Maria’s doctor for malpractice.”

“Did they win?”

“It was settled and the doctor left the practice and the state so…yes?”

“Wow.”

“Anyway,” Valerie continues, “they’re fiercely protective of their mom, and I’d guess it would be important that people outside of the family believe they’re treating you right.”

A pang hits me. Is that what Reed is doing? Just making sure he upholds the family reputation? No, it can’t be. All the things we did in here, on that silk blanket and under it, were private and had nothing to do with any Royal reputation.

I check the clock and realize I need to hurry. I change in a rush, but when I look in the mirror, I see a problem. “Val, this neckline is too low.” I turn so she can see that the white bow of my bra is showing.

She shrugs. “You’ll have to go without. Wear Band-Aids if you’re worried about nipping out.”

“I guess.” Although being in the same zip code as Daniel without wearing a bra kind of skeeves me out.

It takes us another half hour to fix our hair and makeup. I actually do Valerie’s face. She’s astonished at the amount of makeup I’ve accumulated.

“You might need dresses, but your makeup kit is the bomb dot com,” she exclaims.

“Thanks but you need to shut up now so I don’t get lipstick on your teeth.” I wave the lipstick brush at her threateningly and she closes her mouth obediently.

Once we’re ready, we wait around for the Royals to leave. There’s a general slamming of doors and scuffling of feet in the hall. At least one set stops at my door.

There’s a deafening bang that makes me wince, followed by Easton’s voice. “You okay in there? We’ll be home earlyish.”

“Don’t care,” I call back, pretending to be pissed. “And don’t knock on my door again. I’m mad at you. All of you.”

“Even Reed?” Easton jokes.

“All of you.”

“Ah come on, sis, this is for your own good.”

Suddenly I don’t have to fake my anger. “You Royals wouldn’t know what was good for me if it was shoved in your face by a Playboy Bunny.”

Valerie gives me two thumbs up in encouragement.

Easton heaves a big put-upon sigh. “Of course I wouldn’t be able to see anything if a Playboy Bunny was in front of me. I’d be too busy ogling her tits to pay attention to anything else.”

Valerie can’t stop herself from laughing.

“Don’t,” I hiss. “You’ll only encourage him.”

“I hear you and yes, I am encouraged,” Easton calls out from behind the door. “We’ll be home in a couple of hours. Wait up and we’ll all watch a movie.”

“Go away, Easton.”

He shuffles off.

“Easton’s adorable. If I wasn’t so in love with Tam, I’d pursue Easton hard,” Valerie admits.

“I don’t think catching him is the problem,” I reply dryly.

“No? Then what is?”

“Keeping him.”