“And you said no?”
“Hell yeah I said no. I wasn’t going to pay that woman a dime. The DNA test would’ve shown that her baby wasn’t mine or Dad’s. I figured we just had to wait it out for a few more days.” His blue eyes darken. “I didn’t think she’d fucking get herself killed.”
“Do you think it was an accident?” I’m grasping at straws, but I honestly don’t understand how any of this happened. Brooke is—was—awful, but none of us wanted her dead. Gone, maybe. But not dead.
Or at least I didn’t.
“I have no clue,” Reed answers. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Brooke had enemies we don’t know about. She could’ve pissed off someone bad enough that they decided to bash her head in.”
I wince.
“Sorry,” he murmurs hastily.
I sit up and rub my tired eyes. “What evidence do the cops have?”
“Video footage of me entering and leaving the building,” he admits. “And something else, too.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. They’re not telling us yet. Dad’s lawyer says that’s normal—they’re still trying to build their case against me.”
I feel sick again. “They don’t have a case. They can’t.” My lungs seize up, making it hard to breathe. “You can’t go to jail, Reed.”
“I won’t.”
“You don’t know that!” I jump off the bed. “Let’s just go. Right now. You and me. I already packed your bag.”
Reed bolts up in shock. “Ella—”
“I mean it,” I interrupt. “I’ve got my fake ID and ten grand in cash. You’ve got a fake ID too, right?”
“Ella—”
“We could create a new life somewhere,” I say desperately. “I’ll get a job waitressing, you can work construction.”
“And then what?” His voice is gentle, and so is his touch as he gets up and tugs me toward him. “Live in hiding for the rest of our lives? Look over our shoulders all the time worrying that the cops will find us and haul me away?”
I bite my lip. Hard.
“I’m a Royal, baby. I don’t run. I fight.” Steel hardens his eyes. “I didn’t kill anyone, and I’m not going to prison for something I didn’t do. I promise you.”
Why does everyone always feel the need to make promises? Don’t they know that promises always get broken?
Reed squeezes my shoulder. “These trumped-up charges will go away. Dad’s lawyers aren’t going to let—”
A high-pitched shriek cuts him off.
We both spin toward the door, but the scream didn’t come from the second floor. It came from downstairs.
Reed and I fly out of my room, reaching the second-floor landing at the same time as Easton.
“What the hell was that?” Easton demands.
That was Dinah O’Halloran, I realize when I peer over the balcony railing. Steve’s wife is standing in the middle of the parlor below us, her face whiter than a sheet, one hand raised in the air as she gapes at her not-dead husband.
“What’s going on here?” she’s shouting in horror. “How are you here?!”
My father’s mild voice wafts up the stairs. “Hello to you, too, Dinah. It’s wonderful to see you.”
“You’re…you’re…” She’s stuttering. “You’re dead! You died!”
“Sorry to disappoint, but no, I’m very much alive.”
Footsteps echo, and then Callum appears beside Steve. “Dinah,” he says tightly. “I was going to call you.”
“Then why didn’t you?” she roars, teetering on her five-inch heels. “You didn’t think to pick up the phone sooner to let me know that my husband is alive?”
As much as I dislike Dinah, I kind of feel bad for her. She’s so obviously stunned and confused by this, and I don’t blame her. She just walked in and saw a ghost.
“What are you doing here?” Steve asks his wife, and something about his blasé tone rubs me the wrong way.
I get that Dinah is a bitch, but can’t he at least hug her or something? She’s his wife.
“I came to see Callum.” Dinah won’t stop blinking, as if she can’t figure out if Steve is actually there or if she’s hallucinating. “The police…they left a message on my phone. They said my penthouse—” She hastily corrects herself, “Our penthouse…they said it’s a crime scene.”
I wish I could see Steve’s expression, but his back is to the stairs. I only have Dinah’s expressions to gauge his, and it’s clear that whatever she’s seeing on his face is making her extremely uneasy.
“They told me Brooke is dead.”
“That seems to be the case,” Callum confirms.
“How?” Dinah wails, her voice shaking wildly. “What happened to her?”
“We don’t know yet—”
“Bullshit! The detective said they detained a suspect for questioning.”
Reed and I slowly edge away from the railing, but it’s too late. Dinah has spotted us. Sharp green eyes laser into us, and she releases a cry of outrage.
“It’s him, isn’t it! Reed did this to her!”
Callum steps forward, entering my line of sight. His shoulders are like two granite slabs, rigid and unyielding. “Reed had nothing to do with it.”
“She was having his baby! He had everything to do with it!”
I flinch.
“C’mon,” Reed mutters, reaching for my hand. “We don’t need to listen to this.”
But we do. That’s all we’re going to be listening to once the news of Brooke’s death gets out. Soon everyone is going to know about Reed and Brooke’s affair. Everyone’s going to know that she was pregnant, that he went over to the penthouse that night, that he was interrogated and charged with her murder.
Once the story breaks, the vultures are going to circle. The pitchforks will come out, and Dinah O’Halloran will be leading the charge.
I suck air into my lungs, hoping to calm myself, but it doesn’t work. My hands are shaking. My heart is beating too fast, each thump-thump vibrating with fear that I feel straight to my bones.
“Hell yeah I said no. I wasn’t going to pay that woman a dime. The DNA test would’ve shown that her baby wasn’t mine or Dad’s. I figured we just had to wait it out for a few more days.” His blue eyes darken. “I didn’t think she’d fucking get herself killed.”
“Do you think it was an accident?” I’m grasping at straws, but I honestly don’t understand how any of this happened. Brooke is—was—awful, but none of us wanted her dead. Gone, maybe. But not dead.
Or at least I didn’t.
“I have no clue,” Reed answers. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Brooke had enemies we don’t know about. She could’ve pissed off someone bad enough that they decided to bash her head in.”
I wince.
“Sorry,” he murmurs hastily.
I sit up and rub my tired eyes. “What evidence do the cops have?”
“Video footage of me entering and leaving the building,” he admits. “And something else, too.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. They’re not telling us yet. Dad’s lawyer says that’s normal—they’re still trying to build their case against me.”
I feel sick again. “They don’t have a case. They can’t.” My lungs seize up, making it hard to breathe. “You can’t go to jail, Reed.”
“I won’t.”
“You don’t know that!” I jump off the bed. “Let’s just go. Right now. You and me. I already packed your bag.”
Reed bolts up in shock. “Ella—”
“I mean it,” I interrupt. “I’ve got my fake ID and ten grand in cash. You’ve got a fake ID too, right?”
“Ella—”
“We could create a new life somewhere,” I say desperately. “I’ll get a job waitressing, you can work construction.”
“And then what?” His voice is gentle, and so is his touch as he gets up and tugs me toward him. “Live in hiding for the rest of our lives? Look over our shoulders all the time worrying that the cops will find us and haul me away?”
I bite my lip. Hard.
“I’m a Royal, baby. I don’t run. I fight.” Steel hardens his eyes. “I didn’t kill anyone, and I’m not going to prison for something I didn’t do. I promise you.”
Why does everyone always feel the need to make promises? Don’t they know that promises always get broken?
Reed squeezes my shoulder. “These trumped-up charges will go away. Dad’s lawyers aren’t going to let—”
A high-pitched shriek cuts him off.
We both spin toward the door, but the scream didn’t come from the second floor. It came from downstairs.
Reed and I fly out of my room, reaching the second-floor landing at the same time as Easton.
“What the hell was that?” Easton demands.
That was Dinah O’Halloran, I realize when I peer over the balcony railing. Steve’s wife is standing in the middle of the parlor below us, her face whiter than a sheet, one hand raised in the air as she gapes at her not-dead husband.
“What’s going on here?” she’s shouting in horror. “How are you here?!”
My father’s mild voice wafts up the stairs. “Hello to you, too, Dinah. It’s wonderful to see you.”
“You’re…you’re…” She’s stuttering. “You’re dead! You died!”
“Sorry to disappoint, but no, I’m very much alive.”
Footsteps echo, and then Callum appears beside Steve. “Dinah,” he says tightly. “I was going to call you.”
“Then why didn’t you?” she roars, teetering on her five-inch heels. “You didn’t think to pick up the phone sooner to let me know that my husband is alive?”
As much as I dislike Dinah, I kind of feel bad for her. She’s so obviously stunned and confused by this, and I don’t blame her. She just walked in and saw a ghost.
“What are you doing here?” Steve asks his wife, and something about his blasé tone rubs me the wrong way.
I get that Dinah is a bitch, but can’t he at least hug her or something? She’s his wife.
“I came to see Callum.” Dinah won’t stop blinking, as if she can’t figure out if Steve is actually there or if she’s hallucinating. “The police…they left a message on my phone. They said my penthouse—” She hastily corrects herself, “Our penthouse…they said it’s a crime scene.”
I wish I could see Steve’s expression, but his back is to the stairs. I only have Dinah’s expressions to gauge his, and it’s clear that whatever she’s seeing on his face is making her extremely uneasy.
“They told me Brooke is dead.”
“That seems to be the case,” Callum confirms.
“How?” Dinah wails, her voice shaking wildly. “What happened to her?”
“We don’t know yet—”
“Bullshit! The detective said they detained a suspect for questioning.”
Reed and I slowly edge away from the railing, but it’s too late. Dinah has spotted us. Sharp green eyes laser into us, and she releases a cry of outrage.
“It’s him, isn’t it! Reed did this to her!”
Callum steps forward, entering my line of sight. His shoulders are like two granite slabs, rigid and unyielding. “Reed had nothing to do with it.”
“She was having his baby! He had everything to do with it!”
I flinch.
“C’mon,” Reed mutters, reaching for my hand. “We don’t need to listen to this.”
But we do. That’s all we’re going to be listening to once the news of Brooke’s death gets out. Soon everyone is going to know about Reed and Brooke’s affair. Everyone’s going to know that she was pregnant, that he went over to the penthouse that night, that he was interrogated and charged with her murder.
Once the story breaks, the vultures are going to circle. The pitchforks will come out, and Dinah O’Halloran will be leading the charge.
I suck air into my lungs, hoping to calm myself, but it doesn’t work. My hands are shaking. My heart is beating too fast, each thump-thump vibrating with fear that I feel straight to my bones.
