Broken Prince
Page 25

 Erin Watt

  • Background:
  • Text Font:
  • Text Size:
  • Line Height:
  • Line Break Height:
  • Frame:
Disbelief makes my eyebrows soar. “There’s nothing to set straight.” For some reason, I find myself lowering my voice, even though she and Reed deserve that I scream it from the rooftops. “You slept with Callum’s son.”
“Did I?” She titters again. “Because it seems that if I did, and that if someone in this house knew about it,” she gives me a pointed look, “then Callum would have learned about it by now.”
She’s got me there. And now I’m pissed at myself for keeping my mouth shut. One word to Callum, and Brooke would be history. He’d throw her out on her ass faster than you can say cheating shrew.
But…he’d throw Reed out, too. He might even disown him.
God, I’m sick. I’m screwed in the head. Why else would I care what happens to Reed Royal?
Brooke smiles knowingly. “Oh, you poor pathetic girl. You’re in love with him.”
I clench my teeth. She’s wrong. I don’t love him anymore. I don’t.
“I tried to warn you. I told you that the Royals would ruin you, but you didn’t listen.”
“And because of that, you punished me?” I say sarcastically.
“Punished you?” She blinks in what looks like genuine confusion. “What exactly do you think I did, sweetie?”
I gape at her. “You slept with Reed. I walked in on you two! Or have you conveniently forgotten that?”
Brooke waves a hand. “Oh, you mean the night you ran off? Sorry to disappoint you, but there was no…excitement…to be had that night.”
“Y-you were naked,” I stutter.
“I was proving a point.” She rolls her eyes at my bewildered expression. “Reed needed to learn a lesson.”
“That you’re a cheating liar?”
“No, that this is my house.” She gestures to the mansion behind us. “He doesn’t call the shots anymore. I do.” Brooke fingers a strand of her shiny golden hair before tucking it behind her ear. “I wanted to show him what happens when he gets out of line. I wanted him to recognize that I can destroy him without any effort. And see how easy it was? I take off my dress and poof! His relationship with you disappears. That, my darling, is called power.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. I don’t know what to believe anymore. Did Reed bargain for this with her? She’d lie and pretend she didn’t sleep with him in exchange for…what? Does it matter? They slept together at some point. And if he’s capable of betraying his own father like that, think of how easy it will be for him to betray me.
I can’t take that chance. I know what I saw in his bedroom. Brooke was naked. And he just sat there and said nothing. If I let Reed and Brooke plant these seeds of doubt, it’s only a matter of time before I do something stupid…like forgive him. And then he’ll hurt me again and I’ll have nobody to blame for it but myself.
“You slept with Callum’s son,” I repeat, letting my disgust for her show on my face. “Doesn’t matter if you didn’t hook up that night—you still cheated on him with his own son.”
She just smiles.
Nausea shoots up my throat. “You’re…” I trail off. Ugh. No insult in the world can do this woman justice.
“I’m what?” she mocks. “A tramp? A gold-digger? Any more slut-shaming you want to do? I don’t understand why we girls can’t stick together, but honestly, honey, your opinion of me doesn’t matter. This will be my home soon and I’ll be the one calling the shots. You should try to get on my good side.” She arches one brow.
I remind myself that I’ve run into Brooke’s kind a hundred times before. She’s a backroom bully. Sweet to all the people with money, snotty to the girls who can’t help her up the ladder, and downright evil to anyone who threatens her.
So I take courage in the fact that she finds me threatening, and direct an arched eyebrow right back. “Callum will never let you kick me out. And even if he did, I wouldn’t care. I already tried to run away from here, remember?”
“But you came back, didn’t you, darling?”
“Because he forced me to,” I mumble.
“No, because you wanted to. You can claim to hate the Royals all you want, sweetie, but the truth is, you want to be part of this family. Any family, really. Poor orphan Ella needs someone to love her.”
She’s wrong. I don’t need that. I was on my own for two years after Mom died. I can do it again. I’m fine being alone.
Right?
“A few gentle nudges and I guarantee Callum will come around to my way of thinking,” Brooke says. “It’s up to you which direction I nudge him in. Do you want to continue living the Royal lifestyle, or do you want to be shaking your ass for dollar bills again? You’re in charge of your own destiny.” She points a lacquered nail to an empty space next to her. “There’s still room for you over here.”
We both spin around at the sound of a car engine. Gideon’s SUV comes to an abrupt stop behind Easton’s truck. The eldest Royal brother hops out of the driver’s seat, takes one look at us, and asks, “What’s going on here?”
“Just welcoming Ella back into the fold,” Brooke answers, winking at me. “Come here and give me a kiss, darling.”
Gideon looks like he’d rather kiss a cactus, but he still trudges over and plants a cool peck on Brooke’s cheek. “What’s this all about?” he mutters. “I skipped my afternoon classes and drove three hours to get here, so it better be important.”
“Oh, it’s important.” Brooke gives us a cryptic smile. “Let’s go inside and your father and I will tell you all about it.”
Five minutes later, a grim-faced Callum ushers us into a room at the front of the house. His hand hovers protectively at the small of Brooke’s back. And Brooke? She looks smugger than a cat at a fish market.
The room is impeccably decorated in what I’ve termed as Southern Plantation chic. The walls are covered in heavy cream wallpaper. There are several inches of molding that adorn the ceiling. The room is big enough that there are two seating areas, one near the floor-to-ceiling windows that are draped in peach silk fabric, and one closer to the doors. Brooke takes a seat in one of the light green and peach chairs by the fireplace.
Above the mantle is a gorgeous painting of Maria Royal. There’s something horribly wrong about Brooke sitting in this room, in front of that painting. Something sacrilegious.