Twisted Palace(101)

“E-Ella…” I stammer. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” she taunts. Her hands deftly unzip my tuxedo trousers, sliding inside to hold me in her palm. “Don’t touch you?”

“No.” This time I’m the one backing away. My body throbs with need, but I’m not going to put my own selfish desires ahead of hers.

“Too bad. I’m touching you.” She grabs my wrist and holds it against her stomach. “And you’re touching me. Do you really want someone else to touch me like this? Are you really going to be okay with that?”

The images her words conjure in my head are terrible. The hand I have planted on her ass curls into a fist. “Don’t,” I choke out. “Don’t say that to me.”

“Why? You said it to me. I would never, ever be okay with you ‘moving on’ to another girl. That kind of betrayal would ruin us. Not you going away for five years. Not a raft full of Daniels or Jordans or Abbys or Brookes. You moving on, even for a day, for an hour, is what I’d hate.”

“I’m trying to do right by you,” I repeat. Dammit, every waking thought I have is about her these days.

“Right by me is not rejecting me. Right by me is not dictating how I’m supposed to feel. I love you, Reed. I don’t need to be told that I’m too young to know my own feelings. Maybe there is someone else out there that I might love, but I don’t care about that person. I love you. I want to be with you. I want to wait for you. What do you want?”

Her fierce declaration makes it impossible for me to stick to my guns. My own declaration bursts out of my mouth before I can stop it.

“You. Us. Forever.”

“Then don’t push me away. Don’t tell me how to feel, what to think, who to love. If you’re really taking this plea deal, then you can’t be too embarrassed to see me. You can’t stop writing me. You can’t turn away from my visits. This is our countdown. This is our wait. Every day brings us closer together. We either do this together or not at all.” Her blue eyes flash like molten sapphires. “So what’ll it be?”

Man up, is what she’s really telling me. Man up and act like a member of our team. The Ella and Reed team.

I grab her chin with my free hand and kiss her hard. “I’m all in, baby.”

Then I rip her expensive dress off her body and show her exactly how in I’m going to be. For the rest of our freaking lives.





33





Ella





On Saturday morning, Steve announces that we’re moving back to the penthouse. Today.

“Today?” I echo dumbly, setting down my glass of orange juice.

He leans his elbows on the kitchen counter and beams at me. “Well, tonight, actually. Isn’t this great news? Now we won’t be stuck in these five rooms anymore.”

Truthfully, the idea of leaving does sound enticing. Living in this hotel has grown old, which is something I would’ve never said a year ago, but Steve’s right—we do need more space from each other. Steve and Dinah have started to fight constantly. While I might’ve had a trace of sympathy for her at the beginning, I’m sick at the sight of her. Not only did she pay off Ruby Myers, but I know she’s involved in Brooke’s death somehow. I just can’t prove it, damn it.

Reed told Callum about my suspicions, but so far Callum’s army of investigators have come up with nothing. They need to find it soon, because if Reed has his way, he’ll be signing that plea deal on Monday morning and going to prison the moment the ink is dry.

Maybe the penthouse holds some clue.

Steve tilts his head. “What do you say? Are you ready to move out?”

He gives me a hopeful, puppy smile that reminds me so much of Easton. Steve’s not all bad. He tries hard, I guess. I can’t help but smile back. “Yeah. That works.”

“Good. Why don’t you go pack a suitcase with your necessities? The hotel will send the rest of the stuff over. Dinah’s called to get the place cleaned before we arrive.”

I’m about to answer when my phone buzzes. Reed’s calling, and I discreetly cover the screen with my hand so Steve can’t see the display. “It’s Val,” I lie. “I bet she wants to know how Winter Formal went.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Steve says absently.

“I’ll talk to her upstairs so I don’t bother you,” I say before darting out of the suite’s kitchen.

He nods, off in his own head to another topic. Steve’s biggest flaw is that if the conversation doesn’t involve him, he quickly loses interest.

Once I’m alone in my room, I answer Reed’s call before it goes to voicemail. “Hey,” I say softly.