“I was once your age.”

“Uh-huh.” Damn. I think I know where this is going.

“I know how I treated girls, and in retrospect, I regret that a bit.” Steve runs his hand along the edge of the bed frame. “Ella’s right—I haven’t been involved in much of her life. But I’m here now. She’s had a troubled childhood, and those types of girls often look for affection in the wrong places.”

“And I’m one of those wrong places?” I tuck my hands into my pockets and lean against the dresser. It’s sort of ironic that one of the most straight-laced girls I know with the shittiest upbringing has an absentee father giving me a lecture on doing right by his daughter. During the entire nine months or so that I dated Abby, her dad’s entire conversations with me were about the Astor Park football team.

“Reed.” Steve softens his tone. “I love you like you’re my own son, but you have to admit that you’re in a challenging situation here. Ella’s obviously very attached to this family, but I hope you won’t take advantage of her loneliness.”

“I’m not taking advantage of Ella in any way, sir.”

“But you are sleeping with her,” Steve accuses.

If he expected me to be embarrassed or ashamed, he’s pegged me all wrong. Loving Ella is one of the best things I’ve done in my short life. “I’m making her happy,” I answer simply. I have no intention of talking about our sex life. Ella would be mortified.

Steve’s lips press together in a tight line. He’s not pleased with that response. “You’re a physical guy, Reed. You like to fight because you enjoy the impact of your fist against someone else’s flesh. You enjoy the clash of strength against strength. By the same token, you probably can’t go without sleeping around. I’m not judging you, because, hell, I’m the same way. I’m not a big believer in fidelity. If a girl’s available, who am I to say no, am I right?” He grins, inviting me to be part of that trashy lifestyle.

“I’ve said no plenty of times,” I tell him.

Steve snorts in disbelief. “All right, let’s just go with that. When it comes to Ella, though, if you really love her, then you’re not trying to paw her clothes off every second. I see how you look at her, kid, and it’s with a belly full of lust and not much more.” He closes the distance between us and places a heavy hand on my shoulder. “It’s not wrong. I’m not expecting you to change. I’m just saying that Ella’s not the girl to screw around with. Treat her like you’d want your own sister to be treated.”

“She’s not my sister,” I bite out. “And I do treat her with respect.”

“You have a murder charge hanging over your head. You might go to prison for a very long time. How’s Ella going to cope when you’re there? Do you expect her to wait around for you?”

I speak through clenched teeth. “I didn’t do it.”

Steve doesn’t answer.

Does this man, who’s been part of my life for as long as I have memories, actually believe I’m capable of killing someone?

Embittered, I study Steve’s expression. “Do you really believe I did?”

After a beat, he squeezes my shoulder—hard. “No, of course not. But I’m thinking about Ella. I’m trying to put her first.” Those vivid blue eyes, the ones that Ella has, stare at me in challenge. “Can you honestly say you’re doing the same?”

16

Ella

“You know, the reason why there’s no floor thirteen is because a large number of patrons are secretly superstitious. Hallow Oaks is rumored to be built over an old Confederate cemetery. There might be ghosts here.”

Like the ghost of your dead body, I think sourly.

Steve waves the keycard in front of a sensor and punches the “P” button. He’s all smiles now, as if he didn’t just drag me out of my home and to this stupid hotel.

“So you’re not going to talk to me?” Steve asks.

I stare straight ahead. I’m not making chitchat with this guy. He thinks he can waltz into my life after seventeen years and order me around? Welcome to parenthood, Steve. You’re in for a bumpy ride.

“Ella, you can’t honestly believe I’d allow you to continue living with the Royals with your boyfriend down the hall.”

It’s probably childish, but I continue to give Steve the silent treatment. Besides, if I open my mouth, something bad’s going to come out. Such as, Where the hell were you when my mom was dying of cancer? Oh, that’s right, you were hang-gliding with your evil wife.

He sighs, and we finish the ride up to the penthouse in silence. The doors open into a wide hallway. Steve leads me down the hall, rolling my suitcase behind him. He presses the keycard against the door at the end of the hall.

Inside, I find a living room, a dining room, and a set of stairs. I’ve spent my share of time in crappy, low-budget hotel rooms, and the stairs have never been inside a room before. I try not to gawk, but it’s hard.

Steve picks up a leather pad from the table. “Before I show you your room, why don’t you have a look? We’ll order room service while you get settled.”

“We just ate an hour ago,” I remind him in disbelief.

He shrugs. “I’m hungry again. Should I order a salad for you, Dinah?” he yells.

Dinah appears at the top of the stairs. “That’d be fine.”

“Why don’t you call this in while I show Ella around?” He waves the menu and then sets it back on the table. Without waiting for an answer, he places a hand on my back and pushes me forward. “I’ll take the T-bone. Rare, please.”

Past the dining room is another door. Steve opens it and gestures for me to come inside. “This is your room. It has an exterior door that leads to the hall. You’ll need your key to get up to this floor.” He holds out a plastic card, which I reluctantly pocket. “There’s daily maid service and twenty-four-hour room service. Feel free to order whatever you like. I can afford it.” He winks. I’m too busy looking around to respond. “Do you want someone up here to unpack for you?” he continues. “Dinah can help you if you’d like.”

Dinah would probably rather drink a bottle of bleach than help me.