Twisted Palace
Page 7
“You’re…my daughter.” The words come out slowly, as if he’s testing their flavor.
“Yep,” I manage to get out.
“Wow. Well. Okay.” He rakes a hand through his long hair. “I…” A wry smile touches his lips. “I guess we have a lot to talk about, huh?”
A spark of panic ignites my belly. I’m not ready for this. I don’t know what to say to this man or how to behave around him. The Royals might have known Steve for years, but he’s a stranger to me.
“I guess so,” I mumble, staring down at my hands.
Callum takes pity on me by suggesting, “But that can wait until later. After you’re settled.”
Steve glances over at his old friend. “I assume you’ll let me stay here until the police release my penthouse?”
“Of course.”
My anxiety intensifies. Can’t he check into a hotel or something? Yes, the Royal mansion is huge, but the thought of living in the same house as my presumed-dead father makes me nervous.
But why? Why aren’t I throwing my arms around this man and thanking God he’s alive? Why aren’t I ecstatic at the idea of getting to know him?
Because he’s a stranger.
That’s the only answer that makes sense right now. I don’t know Steve O’Halloran, and I’m not good at letting new people in. I spent my entire childhood moving from one place to another, trying not to get close to anyone because I knew that Mom would just pack us up again and then I’d have to say goodbye.
When I came to Bayview, I didn’t plan on forming any real bonds. Somehow, I wound up with a best friend, a boyfriend, surrogate brothers whom I adore, and a man—Callum—who, as screwed up as he is, has become a father figure to me.
I don’t know where Steve fits in. And I’m not ready to figure it out yet.
“That will give Ella and me time to get to know each other on her own turf,” Steve is saying, and I realize he’s smiling at me.
I muster up a smile in return. “Cool beans.”
Cool beans?
Reed pinches my thigh teasingly, and I turn to see him fighting a laugh. Yeah. Maybe Steve isn’t the only one who’s in shock right now.
Luckily, the discussion soon turns toward Atlantic Aviation, Callum and Steve’s business. I notice that Steve doesn’t seem interested in the minute details—just a project that the two refer to in vague terms. Callum once said they do a lot of work for the government. Eventually, the two men excuse themselves and duck into Callum’s study to go over the company’s last quarterly report.
Alone with the boys, I search their faces for signs that they’re as freaked out by all this as I am.
“This is weird, right?” I blurt out when nobody says anything. “I mean, he just came back from the dead.”
Easton shrugs. “Told you Uncle Steve was a baller.”
Sawyer snickers.
I shoot a worried look at Reed. “Am I going to have to move in with him and Dinah?”
That sobers up the kitchen.
“No way,” Reed says immediately. Low and firm. “My dad is your guardian.”
“But Steve is my father. If he wants me to live with him, then I’d have to go.”
“No. Way.”
“Not happening,” Easton agrees. Even the twins are nodding emphatically.
Warmth unfurls in my chest. Sometimes I still can’t believe that we all hated each other when I first got here. Reed was determined to destroy me. His brothers alternately taunted or ignored me. I fantasized about running away on a daily basis.
And now I can’t imagine not having the Royals in my life.
Another wave of anxiety churns in my stomach as I remember where Reed spent the night. There’s a very real chance he won’t be in my life anymore, not if the police really believe he killed Brooke.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I say in a shaky voice. “I want you to tell me everything that happened at the station.”
Reed nods and gets up without a word. When Easton rises, too, Reed holds up a hand. “I’ll fill you in later. Let me talk to Ella first.”
Easton probably sees the panic etched into my face, because for the first time ever, he actually does what he’s told.
I lace my fingers through Reed’s as we climb the back staircase to the second floor. Once we’re alone in my room, he wastes no time locking the door and yanking me into his arms.
His mouth lands on mine before I can blink. The kiss is hot, desperate, and all tongue. I thought I was too exhausted to feel anything other than, well, exhaustion, but my entire body tightens and aches as Reed’s skilled lips tease me to the edge of oblivion.
I groan in protest when he breaks away, which makes him chuckle. “I thought we were going to talk,” he reminds me.
“You’re the one who kissed me,” I grumble. “How am I supposed to concentrate on talking when your tongue is in my mouth?”
He pulls me onto the bed. A second later, we’re curled up on our sides facing each other, our legs twined together.
“Were you scared?” I whisper.
His gorgeous face softens. “Not really.”
“You were arrested for murder,” I say in anguish. “I would be scared.”
“I didn’t kill anyone, Ella.” He reaches out and strokes my cheek with his fingertips. “I swear to you, Brooke was alive when I left the penthouse.”
“I believe you.”
And I do. Reed isn’t a killer. He’s got flaws, lots of flaws, but he could never, ever take someone’s life.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you went over there?” I ask in a hurt voice. “What did Brooke say to you? And the blood on your side…”
“I pulled my stitches. I wasn’t lying about that. Must’ve happened on the drive home, because I wasn’t bleeding when I was over there. And I didn’t tell you because I was high on pain meds when you got back, and then we started fooling around…” He sighs. “I got distracted. And honestly, the whole thing didn’t even seem important. I was going to say something in the morning.”
There’s nothing but sincerity on his face, in his voice.
I lean into his palm, which is still cupped over my cheek. “Did she want money from you?”
“Yup,” he says flatly. “She was freaking that Dad scheduled a paternity test. She wanted to make a deal—if I signed over my trust fund to her, she’d take the cash and split. We’d never have to see her again.”
“Yep,” I manage to get out.
“Wow. Well. Okay.” He rakes a hand through his long hair. “I…” A wry smile touches his lips. “I guess we have a lot to talk about, huh?”
A spark of panic ignites my belly. I’m not ready for this. I don’t know what to say to this man or how to behave around him. The Royals might have known Steve for years, but he’s a stranger to me.
“I guess so,” I mumble, staring down at my hands.
Callum takes pity on me by suggesting, “But that can wait until later. After you’re settled.”
Steve glances over at his old friend. “I assume you’ll let me stay here until the police release my penthouse?”
“Of course.”
My anxiety intensifies. Can’t he check into a hotel or something? Yes, the Royal mansion is huge, but the thought of living in the same house as my presumed-dead father makes me nervous.
But why? Why aren’t I throwing my arms around this man and thanking God he’s alive? Why aren’t I ecstatic at the idea of getting to know him?
Because he’s a stranger.
That’s the only answer that makes sense right now. I don’t know Steve O’Halloran, and I’m not good at letting new people in. I spent my entire childhood moving from one place to another, trying not to get close to anyone because I knew that Mom would just pack us up again and then I’d have to say goodbye.
When I came to Bayview, I didn’t plan on forming any real bonds. Somehow, I wound up with a best friend, a boyfriend, surrogate brothers whom I adore, and a man—Callum—who, as screwed up as he is, has become a father figure to me.
I don’t know where Steve fits in. And I’m not ready to figure it out yet.
“That will give Ella and me time to get to know each other on her own turf,” Steve is saying, and I realize he’s smiling at me.
I muster up a smile in return. “Cool beans.”
Cool beans?
Reed pinches my thigh teasingly, and I turn to see him fighting a laugh. Yeah. Maybe Steve isn’t the only one who’s in shock right now.
Luckily, the discussion soon turns toward Atlantic Aviation, Callum and Steve’s business. I notice that Steve doesn’t seem interested in the minute details—just a project that the two refer to in vague terms. Callum once said they do a lot of work for the government. Eventually, the two men excuse themselves and duck into Callum’s study to go over the company’s last quarterly report.
Alone with the boys, I search their faces for signs that they’re as freaked out by all this as I am.
“This is weird, right?” I blurt out when nobody says anything. “I mean, he just came back from the dead.”
Easton shrugs. “Told you Uncle Steve was a baller.”
Sawyer snickers.
I shoot a worried look at Reed. “Am I going to have to move in with him and Dinah?”
That sobers up the kitchen.
“No way,” Reed says immediately. Low and firm. “My dad is your guardian.”
“But Steve is my father. If he wants me to live with him, then I’d have to go.”
“No. Way.”
“Not happening,” Easton agrees. Even the twins are nodding emphatically.
Warmth unfurls in my chest. Sometimes I still can’t believe that we all hated each other when I first got here. Reed was determined to destroy me. His brothers alternately taunted or ignored me. I fantasized about running away on a daily basis.
And now I can’t imagine not having the Royals in my life.
Another wave of anxiety churns in my stomach as I remember where Reed spent the night. There’s a very real chance he won’t be in my life anymore, not if the police really believe he killed Brooke.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I say in a shaky voice. “I want you to tell me everything that happened at the station.”
Reed nods and gets up without a word. When Easton rises, too, Reed holds up a hand. “I’ll fill you in later. Let me talk to Ella first.”
Easton probably sees the panic etched into my face, because for the first time ever, he actually does what he’s told.
I lace my fingers through Reed’s as we climb the back staircase to the second floor. Once we’re alone in my room, he wastes no time locking the door and yanking me into his arms.
His mouth lands on mine before I can blink. The kiss is hot, desperate, and all tongue. I thought I was too exhausted to feel anything other than, well, exhaustion, but my entire body tightens and aches as Reed’s skilled lips tease me to the edge of oblivion.
I groan in protest when he breaks away, which makes him chuckle. “I thought we were going to talk,” he reminds me.
“You’re the one who kissed me,” I grumble. “How am I supposed to concentrate on talking when your tongue is in my mouth?”
He pulls me onto the bed. A second later, we’re curled up on our sides facing each other, our legs twined together.
“Were you scared?” I whisper.
His gorgeous face softens. “Not really.”
“You were arrested for murder,” I say in anguish. “I would be scared.”
“I didn’t kill anyone, Ella.” He reaches out and strokes my cheek with his fingertips. “I swear to you, Brooke was alive when I left the penthouse.”
“I believe you.”
And I do. Reed isn’t a killer. He’s got flaws, lots of flaws, but he could never, ever take someone’s life.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you went over there?” I ask in a hurt voice. “What did Brooke say to you? And the blood on your side…”
“I pulled my stitches. I wasn’t lying about that. Must’ve happened on the drive home, because I wasn’t bleeding when I was over there. And I didn’t tell you because I was high on pain meds when you got back, and then we started fooling around…” He sighs. “I got distracted. And honestly, the whole thing didn’t even seem important. I was going to say something in the morning.”
There’s nothing but sincerity on his face, in his voice.
I lean into his palm, which is still cupped over my cheek. “Did she want money from you?”
“Yup,” he says flatly. “She was freaking that Dad scheduled a paternity test. She wanted to make a deal—if I signed over my trust fund to her, she’d take the cash and split. We’d never have to see her again.”
