Twisted Palace (20 page)

A
t seven o’clock sharp
, the concierge rings our suite to tell us that Wade Carlisle is here.

“Let him up,” Steve says into the phone, then disconnects and appraises the outfit I’ve chosen for my “date.”

I decided to go with a wholesome look, so I’m wearing skinny jeans, a flowy gray sweater, and black boots with no heel. My hair is down and pulled away from my face with two green barrettes. I look nauseatingly cute.

Clearly, Steve approves. “You look great.”

“Thanks.” I pretend to toy nervously with the hem of my sweater. “I don’t know about this date.”

“You’ll have fun,” he says firmly. “It’ll be good for you.”

A knock on the door has both of us walking toward it. Steve reaches it first and opens it, and we find Wade standing in the doorway with a polite smile on his handsome face.

“Hi,” he tells my father. “I’m Wade. I’m here to pick up Ella.”

“Steve O’Halloran.”

As the two of them shake hands, I can tell Steve is impressed by Wade’s clean-cut appearance and classic good looks. They chat about the playoffs for a couple of minutes, and then Wade and I leave the suite while Steve gives me a not-so-discreet thumbs up.

The moment we get into the elevator, I roll my eyes. “He’s trying to be such a dad,” I say with a sigh.

Wade snickers. “He
is
a dad.”

As we ride down to the lobby, I make sure to put at least three feet between me and Wade. For some stupid reason I’m paranoid that Steve might have access to the elevator cameras, so I don’t want to do or say anything that might be construed as strange.

But once we’re in the safety of Wade’s Mercedes, the first thing I do is throw my arms around him. “Thank you
so
much for doing this.”

“No prob,” he answers. His grin falters slightly. “Did you talk to Val?”

I nod. “She said to call her after you drop me off later.”

His expression fills with hope. “Yeah?”

“Yep.” I reach over and pat his arm. “Don’t blow this, Carlisle. Val is good people.”

“I know.” He groans in frustration. “I mean, before you started hanging out with her, I always saw her as Jordan’s poor cousin, you know?”

My jaw falls open. “Oh my God. That’s a terrible thing to say!”

“But it’s true.” He puts the car into gear and drives away from the curb. “She wasn’t on my radar until you moved to town and hooked up with Reed. And then suddenly she’s having lunch with us, and…” He shrugs. “She’s really cool. And hot.”

“Do you seriously like her or is this just a game for you?”

“I like her,” he assures me. “For reals.”

“Good. Then I repeat, don’t blow this.”

The rest of the drive passes by quickly. I’m a bundle of excited nerves by the time Wade pulls into the Royals’ driveway. I fly out of the Mercedes before it even comes to a stop, which causes Wade to burst out laughing.

“Man, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a chick look this eager to get laid,” he says as he joins me on the steps of the Royal castle.

“I’m eager to see my boyfriend,” I answer primly. “It has nothing to do with getting laid.”

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.”

The front door swings open the moment we reach it, and suddenly I’m in Reed’s arms and his face is buried in my neck.

I jerk away, nervously glancing around the empty parlor. “Is Callum home?”

“He called to say he’s working late tonight,” Reed answers, tugging me back toward him.

Our mouths collide and the kiss we share is hot enough to spike the temperature in the parlor. Behind us, Wade moans unhappily.

“Guys! Stop it! I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but get a room.”

I release a burst of laughter against Reed’s lips and then turn toward Wade. “I thought you were all about PDA,” I tease.

He pouts. “Since neither of you let me play, it’s no fun.”

With his arm still around my waist, Reed reaches his free hand out to slap Wade’s palm. “Thanks for making this happen.”

“No problem. I’ll be back in a couple hours. That enough time?”

No, but it’ll have to do. “It’s perfect,” I tell him. “Now go call Val.”

With a cheery salute, Wade speeds out the door. Reed locks it before swinging me up in his arms.

“Where’re we going?” I ask, looping my own arms around his neck.

He climbs the stairs two at a time. “Figured we’d watch a movie with Easton.”

“Seriously?” My heart falls. I thought for sure we were getting together for happy times.

“Um, no,” he replies with a laugh. “I was kidding.”

When we reach the landing, he doesn’t stop at my bedroom but hauls ass all the way to his. Inside, he drops me to the floor. I wait for him to reach for me, to pull off my shirt, to take his shirt off, but nothing happens.

I look around awkwardly. “Is something wrong?”

“I wanted to talk to you about the case. And, ah, other things,” he admits. He clasps his hand around the back of his neck and gives me an unhappy look.

“No fun times?” I say in a small, disappointed voice. It’s not that I need to have sex with him, but when I’m in his arms, none of the bad things in our lives exist. It’s only us.

“Not yet.” He tries to summon up a smile, but it fades fast. I guess he knows that fake grins aren’t going to cut it with me. “Sit down?”

There aren’t too many options in Reed’s room. It’s sparse—a boat-sized bed, a dresser, and a small loveseat positioned in front of his big screen. I plant my butt on the bed, wishing I could burrow under the covers until all this blows over.

“The paternity test on Brooke’s baby came back,” he begins.

My heart stops. Oh no. The bleak look in his eyes tells me this isn’t going to be good news, and suddenly I feel sick. There’s no way the baby could have been Reed’s—

“It was Dad’s kid,” he finishes.

Both relief and shock slam into me. “What? Seriously?”

Reed nods. “I guess the vasectomy failed.”

“Is that even possible?”

“In a few cases, yeah.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Anyway, Dad took it pretty hard. I mean, he didn’t want to be with Brooke, but he would’ve been there for their kid. I think he’s grieving for the baby now that he knows it was his.”

My hand flies to cover my heart. That poor man. “I feel so bad for him.”

“Me, too. The sad thing is, it doesn’t matter who the dad is, because Brooke was still threatening
me
about it, and I’m still the only person with motive. And the only one they have on camera entering the penthouse that night.”

I bite my lip. “When did the paternity test results come back?”

“Yesterday.”

I scowl at him. “And you didn’t tell me until now?”

“I was waiting on Dad. He hasn’t even told East and the twins yet. I told you, he’s kind of down about it. But I had to tell you. I promised I wouldn’t keep secrets anymore, remember?”

A lump forms in my throat. “You were avoiding me all day at school today,” I accuse.

Reed lets out a breath. “Yeah. I know. I’m sorry. I was just trying to figure out how to tell you about, uh, the other thing.”

Suspicion climbs up my spine. “What other thing?”

“The trial date for my case is set for May,” he confesses.

I shoot to my feet. “That’s six months away!”

He smiles grimly. “Grier says it’s my constitutional right to have a speedy trial.”

My stomach heaves. “Tell me Callum’s guys have found something. They found
me
, for crying out loud.”

“Nothing.” Reed’s expression holds no hope. “They’ve come up empty.” He pauses. “Grier says I might not win.”

I’m beginning to hate every sentence beginning with
Grier says.

“What now, then?” As hot tears flood my eyes, I keep my gaze pinned to the carpet. I don’t want my own torment to be heaped on top of the anguish I hear in his voice.

“He wants me to plead guilty.”

I can’t stop a moan of pain from escaping. “No.”

“It’s a twenty-year sentence, but the DA’s office will recommend ten. Because of the overcrowding, Grier says I should be out in five. I think I should—”

I fly toward him, covering his mouth with my hand. I don’t want him to say it. If he says he’s going to take the deal, that he’s going to leave me, I won’t be able to change his mind. So I jerk his head down and plant my mouth over his, shutting him up in the only way I know how.

His lips part, and I attack him—with my tongue, my hands, everything.

“Ella, stop,” he groans against my mouth. But Reed’s one weakness, if he has one, is me, and I exploit that vulnerability mercilessly.

My hands are down his pants. Then I’m on my knees, taking his full length into my mouth. Staring up at him, I dare him to stop me now.

He doesn’t. He just thrusts deep, groans, then picks me up and throws me on the bed.

His hand finds me needy and wanting. “Is this what you want?” he growls.

“Yes,” I say fiercely, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Show me how much you love me.”

Lust sparks in his eyes. He may have wanted to talk, but all of that is shoved onto the backburner now.

When he enters me a moment later, I wait for the pleasure to drive away the sadness, but the pain doesn’t recede. It’s filling my heart, and even the strength of his body, the comforting weight of his frame against mine, can’t completely drive the ache out.

He makes love to me fiercely, almost frantically, as if he thinks it will be the last time we’re together. His body hammers into mine. He fills me hard and deep and leaves me breathless. But I’m equally savage. My nails dig into his shoulders. My legs lock around his hips. In some small corner of my brain that is now in control, I feel like if I love him hard enough, long enough, I can keep him with me forever.

And when lightning flashes through my body, when the bliss finally, finally overtakes the pain, I forget why I was angry and let the pleasure rocket through me.

When I fall down from that high, sweaty but not sated, I reach for him again, wanting to stay on this emotional high where only Reed and I exist. But unlike the night of the game, he draws away.

“Ella,” he says softly, running a hand over my shirt, which we never bothered to take off. “We can’t solve anything by having sex.”

Stung by his words, I retort, “Excuse me for wanting to be close to you.”

“Ella—”

I sit up, acutely aware of how naked I am from the waist down. Reaching down beside the bed, I snag my jeans and put them on. “I mean, if you’re so eager to get locked up for twenty years, shouldn’t I be getting all my sex in now? After that, all I’ll have is memories to keep me warm.”

Reed bites his lip. “You’re going to wait for me?”

I stare at him dumbly. “Of course. What else would I do?” Then it dawns on me. He hasn’t thought this through. He hasn’t weighed all the repercussions of the plea. Encouraged, I press him. “That’s right. We’re going to be apart for twenty years.”

“Five,” he corrects absently.

“Five if we’re lucky. Five if the prison system or whoever is in charge thinks you deserve to get out. The sentence is for twenty years, you said. I’ll be nearly forty when you get out.”

Reed is the first person I’ve ever really loved besides my mother. Before I met him, a man didn’t figure into my future. My experience with Mom’s boyfriends led me to believe that I’d be better off. Now I can’t envision a future without Reed, but the road ahead of us is depressing, and the crushing loneliness that I lived with for the months following my mom’s death hovers over my head.

If I lose Reed, too, I don’t know how I’ll take it.

Fighting a burst of panic, I kneel beside him on the bed. “Let’s go. Right now. We’ll get my backpack and we’ll get out of here.”

His eyes fill with disappointment. “I can’t. I love you, Ella, but I already told you—running isn’t gonna make this go away for us. It’ll be worse if I run. We’ll never see my family again. We’ll always be worried that we’re going to be caught. I love you,” he repeats, “but we can’t run.”

H
alston Grier is sitting
in the front room when I get home from school the next day. Last night’s date with Ella was so strained, even after the sex, and now I know why.

No matter what we do, the shadow of the case is going to keep hanging over our heads until all this shit is resolved.

“More witness statements?” My question comes out snider than I intend.

Grier and Dad exchange a weighted look before Dad gets to his feet. He grabs my shoulder and pulls me toward him, almost as if he feels the need to give me a hug, but he stops before he can complete the act.

“Whatever you decide, I support,” he says gruffly before walking out.

Grier wordlessly points to the couch. He waits until I’m seated before pulling one of those typewritten statements out of the briefcase at his feet.

If I never see another piece of copy paper in my life, I’ll die a happy man.

The lawyer reaches forward and hands me the statement.

“Not going to read this one to me?” I say. My eyes skim over the header that declares it’s the statement of a Ruby Myers. “Never heard of her before. Is it someone’s mom?” I rack my brain for the last name. “There’s a Myers who’s a junior. I think he plays lacrosse…”

“Just read it.”

I settle in, scanning the neatly typed words on the page.

I, Ruby Myers, declare under penalty of perjury, the following is a true and accurate account, to the best of my knowledge:

That’s my address. I think back to the last time we had servers here. It would’ve been when Brooke and Dinah came over for dinner. But I can’t think of anything that was worth reporting that night. East and Ella found Gideon and Dinah screwing in the bathroom. Is that what this is about? And if so, what does it have to do with my case?

I open my mouth to ask, but the next line catches my eye.

I don’t read another word. I set down the two-page affidavit and speak in a calm voice. “This is a lie. I was never upstairs with Brooke that night. The only time she was in my room in the last six months was the night Ella ran.”

The lawyer merely moves his shoulders in that maddening, useless way of his. “Ruby Myers is a nice lady who works two jobs to support her children. Her husband left her about five years ago. All of her neighbors say that there’s no better single mom in the world than Ruby Myers.”

“A woman with values and morals?” I mock, repeating the accusations Jordan Carrington made in her statement. I start to hand the papers back, but Grier won’t take them.

“Keep reading.”

Unhappily, I scan the rest of the paragraphs.

“She pouted a bit? Who’s writing this shit?”

“We encourage affidavits to be written by the witnesses themselves. Makes it sound more authentic if it’s in the witness’s own voice.”

If Grier wasn’t supposed to save me, I think I would break his jaw.

“What’s the penalty for perjury?” I demand. “Because none of this happened. We had dinner with Brooke and Dinah around this date, but I never talked to any server.”

Grier shrugs again.

I keep reading.

“This is bullshit.” I toss the lies onto the coffee table and scrub a hand down my face. “I don’t even know this Myers chick. And this conversation she’s describing happened between Brooke and me the night Ella left. Everyone else was gone. I don’t know how she knows this happened.”

“So it happened?”

“I never said that she’d be part of this family over”—I grab the paper and read the exact, lying words—“‘over his dead body.’”

“How’d she know what happened, then?”

I try to swallow, but my throat’s so dry, it hurts. “I don’t know. She must’ve known Brooke somehow. Can’t you track people’s cell phones and find out if she and Brooke ever had contact?” I know I’m reaching, but I can feel the walls closing in on me.

“In light of this…” Grier pushes the statement toward me until it’s almost falling off the table. “Take the plea deal, Reed. You’ll be out by your twenty-third birthday.” He tries to smile. “Think of it as a different type of postsecondary education. You can take college courses while you’re inside, even get your degree. We’ll do everything to make your life comfortable.”

“You can’t even get me off on a charge I’m innocent of,” I snap. “How can I trust you to do anything?”

He reaches down and grabs his briefcase, an expression of disappointment on his face. “I’m giving you the best legal advice there is. A less scrupulous lawyer would take this to trial and bill your father for a hell of a lot more money. I’m advising you to take this plea deal because your defense is not good.”

“I’m telling you the truth. I’ve never lied to you.” I clench my jaw since I can’t clench my fists.

Grier gazes at me mournfully over the top of his stupid glasses. “Sometimes innocent people go away for a long time. I do believe you, and I think the DA’s office might, too, which is why I was able to get the plea deal. Involuntary manslaughter can carry with it a twenty-year sentence. Ten years is very generous. This is the very best deal.”

“Does my father know about this?” I nod toward the Ruby Myers statement.

Grier readjusts the briefcase in his hand. “Yes. I gave it to him to read before you arrived.”

“I have to think about it,” I choke out.

“Delacorte’s deal is off the table. There’s too much evidence here,” Grier adds, as if I would even entertain the Delacorte option. He already knows I won’t let Daniel come back to hurt Ella.

The ground is shifting beneath my feet. I’m eighteen and my once limitless world is narrowed down to the choice of five years in prison or rolling the dice and growing old in a tiny cement cell.

“If I—” My throat is raw and I can feel embarrassing hot tears prick at the back of my eyes. I force the words out. “If I take this deal, when do I start my sentence?”

Grier’s shoulders sag in relief. “I recommended, and the DA’s office seems amenable to this, that you would start your sentence after the first of January. You’d be able to finish out your semester and spend the holidays with your family.” He shifts forward, his voice taking on a slight animation. “I think I can get you into a minimum security facility. Those house mostly drug offenders, some white-collar crime, a few sex offenders. It’s a very mild crowd.” He smiles, as if I should be rewarding him for this great gift.

“I can’t wait,” I mutter. I stick out my hand, remembering a few manners Mom drilled in me. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” We shake, and he turns to leave, but he pauses at the door. “I know your first instinct is to fight. It’s an admirable trait. But this is the one time you need to surrender.”

T
en minutes later
, Dad finds me in the same spot, rooted to the floor. The enormity of everything is sinking in.

“Reed?” Dad says quietly.

I raise my stricken eyes to him. Dad and I are about the same size. I’m a little heavier than he is because I lift a lot of weights. But I remember when I was a kid, I rode on his shoulders and thought he’d always keep me safe. “What do you think I should do?”

“I don’t want you to go to prison, but this isn’t like going to Vegas and putting down even a few million at the craps table. Going to trial means we’re gambling with your life.” He looks as old and as tired and as defeated as I feel.

“I didn’t do it.” And for the first time, it’s important for me to tell him that, for him to believe me.

“I know. I know you never would’ve hurt her.” The side of his mouth quirks up. “No matter how much she might’ve deserved it.”

“Yeah.” I tuck my hands in my pockets. “I want to talk to Ella. Do you think Steve’s gonna have a problem with that?” If I only have a little time left, I want to spend it with the people I care the most about.

“I’ll make it happen.” He reaches inside his suit coat to grab his phone. “You want to talk to your brothers? You don’t have to. At least, not until you make your decision.”

“They deserve to know. But I only want to go through it once, so I’ll wait until Ella comes over.”

We walk out into the hall, and I have a foot on the first step when a thought occurs to me.

“Are you telling Steve about this mess?” I wave a hand toward the living room, where Grier just dropped a bomb on my life.

Dad shakes his head. “This is Royal information only.” He gives me another half-smile. “That’s why Ella needs to be here.”

“Truth.” I take the stairs two at a time, texting Ella when I reach the top.

Dad’s gonna make it so u can come over.

Really?
:)
I feel like I’m under house arrest here. Not to complain or anything but Steve said this hotel suite was 2 small. I thought he was nuts, but after living here for 3 weeks, it feels like a cracker box.

I wonder how big a prison cell is.

I text back
, I hear u.

My mind starts to race as I think about the plea deal. If I take it, I’ll be shoved in a concrete room and kept there for five years. Nearly two thousand days. Can I do it? Would I survive it?

My heart starts pounding so fast I wonder if I’m going to have a heart attack.

I force my fingers back to the phone.

When are u going to be let back in2 the penthouse?

Soon, I hope. G wants me 2 look 4 blackmail stuff. Do u think I shld?

Yeah. If it’s not obv.

Damn it, I want to break Dinah and Brooke’s hold over my family. Getting rid of this murder charge is a step toward that. I could fight, but what’s the point? Grier says my case is hopeless.

I don’t want to drag my family through a trial. I don’t want a parade of witnesses up there talking about Easton’s struggles with gambling, drinking, and drugs, the twins’ private life, distorted stories about Gideon and Dinah, me and Brooke and Dad. And then there’s Ella’s past. She doesn’t need to be dragged through the mud again.

Our family has already gone through so much. The prosecutors will rake up the details of Mom’s death if I go to trial. Everything we fought so hard to keep behind these closed doors would come spilling out.

I have the ability to stop that from happening. The price of tucking those secrets away is a slice of my freedom. And it isn’t long. Five years.
Five if you’re lucky.
I can live through that. It’s just a fraction of my entire life. What’s that worth against the trauma that the trial would inflict on my family?

Nothing.

Yeah, I’ve made up my mind. This is the right decision. I know it is.

Now I just have to sell it to Ella and my brothers.

E
lla shows up an hour later
. When she breezes through the front door, my heart feels immediately lighter. I barely have time to brace myself before she throws herself at me. After planting a long, dick-raising kiss on my lips, she wriggles out of my arms.

“Gosh, you feel like a block of ice.” She pinches my bare arm. “Put some clothes on.”

“Thought you liked it when I was naked,” I counter, forcing a light note into my voice. “I think you once said it was a crime for me to wear shirts.”

She wrinkles her nose but doesn’t deny it. “What do you think Callum said to Steve? Steve told me I could come right over and he didn’t even make a fuss. Maybe he’s coming around?”

She’s smiling so brightly, thinking I have good news for her. I don’t want to tell her, but I have no choice. This is her future, too.

“Come on.” I grab her hand and tug her up the stairs. “Let’s go to your room.”

I march down to my brothers’ rooms. Knocking on their doors, I yell, “Ella’s here.”

My brothers pop out of their rooms immediately.

“Little sis!”

Pangs of jealousy curl in my stomach as I watch Easton wrap Ella up in a big hug before passing her off to Sawyer and Seb. But the closeness they all share with her is a good thing. Especially for East.

I turn my back and walk into Ella’s room, forcing myself to quash my negative feelings. They’ll need each other after I’m gone. I can’t be angry about this.

I’m the one who put myself in this situation when I decided to sleep with Brooke. And then I made stupid decision after stupid decision. The
what if
game will probably drive me insane in prison.
What if
I’d flown to D.C. for dinner with my family?
What if
I hadn’t answered Brooke’s call?
What if
I hadn’t gone over there, thinking I could reason with Brooke?