Paper Princess: A Novel (The Royals Book 1)

by Erin Watt

I roll my eyes at the eagerness in Easton’s voice.

  “Yeah.”

  “Of her stripping?” He’s even more excited.

  “Naah. They were just of her doing normal shit.” Reed pauses. “She worked three jobs last summer. She clerked at a truck stop in the morning, did retail in the afternoon, and stripped at this kiddy bar at night.”

  “Damn. That’s rough,” Easton sounds almost impressed. Not Reed, though. Reed comes off disgusted. “How’d Jordan find that out?”

  “One of the twins blurted it out, probably while he was getting head.”

  “Sawyer then. Can’t keep his mouth shut when there’s a bitch around his dick.”

  “Truth.” A drawer slams shut. “You know, you could use this. I mean, hell, if she’s attracted to you, then use her. Stick with her. Find out what she really wants. I’m still not convinced that her and Dad don’t have something going on.”

  “She said she wasn’t doing him.”

  “And you believed that?”

  “Maybe.” Reed’s disbelief infects Easton. “How many guys you think she’s been with?”

  “Who knows. Gold diggers like her will open their legs to anyone who waves a few dollars in front of ’em.”

  I’m not a gold digger! I want to shout. And these jerks couldn’t be more wrong about my active “sex life.” I haven’t even given a blowjob before. On the sex scale, I veer closer to prude than pro.

  “Think she could teach me something?” Easton wonders.

  “How an STD feels. But if you want to fuck her, then do it. I don’t care.”

  “Really? Because you’re throwing that football hard enough that it sounds like you care.”

  The thumping stops. “You’re right. I do care.”

  My hand creeps up to my throat. Thud. Thud. Thud. They toss the ball back and forth. Or maybe that’s the hope in my heart.

  “I care about you. I care if you get hurt, sick, whatever. I don’t give two shits about her, though.”

  I look down at my hand, expecting to see blood from the wound he just slashed open. But there’s nothing there.

  * * *

  My alarm goes off at five. My eyes are crusty and I feel sore all over. I might have cried a little before I fell asleep but this morning I feel a renewed sense of determination. There’s no point in wanting the Royals to like me, especially Reed. Steve’s widow is a bitch, but at least it’s obvious so I know what to watch for. That goes double for Easton. If he tries to use me, then I’ll use him right back.

  After all, I don’t have any secrets. They’re all written out in some report of Callum’s.

  I lace up my sneakers and shoulder my backpack that is ten grand lighter. I decided it was too stressful to be carrying around that load of cash, so I taped it to the underside of the sink in the bathroom. Hopefully it’ll be safe there.

  Being up this early on a Saturday morning is so disorienting, but Lucy asked me to come in today and help her with a cake order, and I didn’t feel right saying no. Besides, I could use all the extra cash I can get.

  In the hallway, I try to be as quiet as possible so I don’t wake up the Royals. I’m so focused on tiptoeing down the stairs that I almost topple over when I hear Reed’s low voice behind me.

  “Where are you going?”

  Hmm, that’d be none of your business. I figure if I don’t engage him then he’ll just go back to his room.

  “Whatever,” he mutters when my silence drags on. “I don’t give a shit.”

  After his bedroom door clicks shut, I give myself a pat on the back for alienating another person in my life and slip out through the front door. It’s still dark out as I walk to the bus stop. When I reach it, I tuck myself inside the little bus shelter and try to shut out every bad thing in my life.

  My skill, if I have one, isn’t dancing. It’s my ability to believe that tomorrow can be a better day. I don’t really know where I got this optimism. Maybe it was from Mom. Somewhere along the line, I started thinking that if I just got through this bad experience, this bad day, that tomorrow I’d have something better, brighter, newer.

  I still believe that. I still believe that there’s something good out there for me. I just have to keep going until my time comes, because surely, surely, none of this would happen if there wasn’t a reward down the line.

  I take a deep breath. The salt of the sea makes the air taste fresh and tangy. As terrible as the Royals are, as awful as Dinah O’Halloran is, today is better than a week ago. I have a warm bed, nice clothes, plenty of food. I’m attending a really amazing school. I have a girlfriend.

  It’s all going to be okay.

  Really.

  I arrive at the bakery feeling better than I have in days. It must show because Lucy compliments me immediately.

  “You look gorgeous this morning. Oh, to be young again.” She clucks in mock dismay.

  “You look amazing yourself, Luce,” I tell her as I tie on an apron. “And something smells delicious. What are those?” I point to the little domes of glazed goodness.

  “Mini monkey bread. It’s tiny pieces of cinnamon-flavored bread dough mixed with caramel and butter. Want one?”

  I nod so enthusiastically that my head nearly falls off. “I think I orgasmed just smelling them.”

  Lucy laughs in delight, her short curls bouncing around her head. “Then have one and I’ll show you how to make four dozen more.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  The mini monkey breads are a hit. We sell out of them before eight o’clock and Lucy sends me into the back to make more before my shift is over. At eleven forty-five, Valerie shows up and I’m in such a good mood, I practically tackle-hug her.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask happily, squeezing her tight before releasing her.

  “I was in the neighborhood. What’s up with you?” Valerie laughs. “Did you get laid last night?”

  “No, but I did have pastry-induced orgasms all morning.” I pull a just-baked goodie from the shelf and hand it to her.

  Valerie picks off a piece of the bread and starts moaning when the sugar hits her tongue. “Oh my God.”

  “Right?” I giggle.

  “Is Durand picking you up or do need a ride home? I have a car today!” Valerie says between shoving her mouth full of carbs.

  “I’d love a ride.” I pull off the apron and hurry to get my things. “Okay if I go, Luce?”

  She waves me off, busy with another customer.

  Valerie’s car is an older model Honda and it looks out of place amongst the Mercedes, Land Rovers, and Audis that fill the parking spots outside.

  “It’s Tam’s mom’s car,” she explains. “I offered to pick up a few things for her.”

  “That’s cool.” Shyly, I share, “Callum says I’m getting a car, so once that arrives, you can borrow it whenever you want.”

  “Aw, thanks. You’re the bestest friend ever.” She laughs, then looks over at me. “Anyway, I actually stopped by to see if you wanted to go somewhere tonight.”

  My happy mood dims a little. I hope she’s not asking me to go to a party, because the idea of spending time with Astor Park kids outside of school isn’t too appealing. “Well, I have some homework…”

  Valerie reaches over and pinches me.

  “Ow! What was that for?” I rub my arm and scowl at her.

  “Give me a little credit. I’m not taking us to an Astor party. I mean, there might be Astor peeps there, but it’s a club downtown that sometimes allows in under twenty-one year olds, and tonight is one of those nights. There’ll be kids from all over and not just from Astor Park.”

  “I’m not eighteen.” I slump down in my seat. “And the only ID I have says I’m thirty-four.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You’re hot. They’ll let you in,” Valerie says confidently.

  * * *

  She’s right. They don’t card either of us at the door when we arrive at the club later that night. The bouncer runs his flashlight over Val and then me, tak
ing in our blown-out hair, skimpy dresses and high heels, and lets us in with a wink.

  The place appears to be a renovated warehouse. The bass is shaking the walls and there are strobe lights illuminating the dance floor. Up toward the front is a stage and there are girls dirty dancing on it.

  “We’re dancing in that tonight,” Valerie shouts in my ear.

  I follow the line of her arm. Above the dance floor, suspended at different levels, are four human-sized birdcages. In each one there are dancers. One has a girl and a guy who are grinding against each other, and the other three feature solo girls.

  “Why?” I ask suspiciously.

  “To make ourselves feel good. I’m missing Tam and I want to dance and have fun.”

  “Can’t we just dance on a stage?”

  Val shakes her head. “No. Half of dancing is the crowd appreciation.” She grins at me.

  I stare back at her in amazement. “This seems so unlike you.”

  She laughs and shakes her cloud of hair. “I’m not a mouse. I love to dance and show off and this is a place I can do it. Tam brought me here and we tore up the floor. And after, we tore up the sheets.” She bites her lip and her eyes get a little glassy as she recalls a post party romp with her boyfriend.

  So Val’s a little exhibitionist. Who knew? I guess it’s always the quiet ones. I’ve never minded dancing in front of people, but I don’t get off on it like Val apparently does. Once I start dancing, I get lost in the music and forget that anyone is even watching.

  Maybe it’s a protective reflex—one I learned early when I was stripping at the age of fifteen. But whatever the reason, when the beat seeps into my blood, there could be no one or there could be a hundred people around. I move to the music, not the audience.

  “Sure. I’m up for that.”

  She looks thrilled. “Awesome. One cage or two?”

  “How about together? We’ll really give everyone a show.”

  The men at Miss Candy’s loved it when two girls danced together. Just like the football players the other day enjoyed watching Jordan and me fight.

  Valerie claps her hands. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  I watch as she trots over to a guy in a booth. I assumed he was a DJ, but I guess he’s the one who controls access to the cages. They exchange words and then the guy holds up one finger. Valerie reaches over the barrier and gives him a hug.

  Once she’s done convincing him that we’re a better act, she runs back to me. “One song,” she says, “and then we’re up.” She grabs two sodas from a waitress passing by with a tray full of drinks and hands me one.

  Val’s not real patient. She shifts from one foot to another. Taps her palm against her leg. Finally, she turns to me. “Why does Jordan call you a stripper?”

  “Because I was,” I admit. “I stripped to pay my mom’s medical bills and when she died I stripped to pay for the roof over my head.”

  Her mouth drops open. “Holy shit. Why didn’t you just go to a relative?”

  “I didn’t know I had any.” I shrug. “It’s been me and Mom for as long as I can remember. And once she was gone, I just didn’t want to go into foster care. I heard all these nightmares about the system and I figured I’d been taking care of her and me for so long that just taking care of myself for two years would be a breeze.”

  “Wow. You are entirely too impressive for me,” Val declares.

  I snort. “In what way? Taking my clothes off for money isn’t a skill most people admire.” My mind involuntarily skips back to Reed. He definitely doesn’t think it’s a skill I should be bragging about.

  “You’ve got a lot of moxie,” Val says. “And that’s what’s admirable.”

  “Moxie? Who says moxie?”

  “I do!” She smiles and pulls on my hand. “Moxie. Moxie. Moxie.” I start to laugh because Val is adorable and her smiles are infectious. She grabs my hand. “Let’s go. It’s our turn.”

  I let her drag me over to the base of the stairs. The couple has already left and the door to the cage is open. We run up the stairs and climb inside. Val shuts the door behind us.

  “Let’s have some fun!” she shouts over the music.

  And we do. We start out dancing side by side, doing our own thing. It’s like the video game only a live action one. Guys below us stop dancing and start watching, and their admiring gazes start working on me in a way I thought would be impossible. I’ve had dozens of men stare at me before, but this is the first time I’ve actually enjoyed the attention. I run my hands down my sides and shimmy low to the floor of the cage. Val is pressed up against the bars, bracing against them as she writhes to the music.

  It’s when I start to rise that I spot him—Reed. He’s slouched against the bar, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers. His lips are parted—in surprise? Desire? I’m not sure, but even from this distance I can feel the heat from his eyes as they rake over me.

  He’s the hottest guy in the club, hands down. Taller than almost everyone, more muscular, more everything. I can’t help but admire the way his black T-shirt clings to his perfect chest, and I feel a tingle shoot up my spine. Licking my lips, I push to my feet. Val’s hands land on my waist. In our heels, we’re about the same height. I feel her boobs push into my back as she uses my body as a pole to show off her own moves.

  The cheers of the crowd below us are growing stronger, but for me, the only thing that exists is Reed Royal. I stare at him.

  He stares back.

  I stick my finger in my mouth and then slowly draw it out. He doesn’t look away.

  I drag the finger down my neck, down the valley between my breasts, down to my stomach. The noise is getting louder and louder. My hand is getting lower.

  Reed’s eyes are glued to me. His mouth moves. Ella…Ella…

  “Ella.”

  Valerie grabs my waist and leans her head on my shoulder. “Song’s over. Ready?”

  I look back toward the bar, but Reed’s gone. I shake my head. Had I imagined that whole thing? Was he ever even there?

  “Yeah,” I mumble. “I’m ready.”

  My whole body is throbbing. I’m not so inexperienced that I don’t know what the ache between my legs means. It’s just that…I don’t know that touching myself is going to give me the relief I need.

  “Nice, girls. Real nice,” the bouncer yells at us when we exit. “Cage is yours anytime tonight.”

  “Thanks, Jorge!” Val says.

  He hands her two bottles of water. “Any time, babe. Any time.”

  “He wants you,” I tell her when we move away.

  “Yeah, but I don’t want anyone but Tam.” She guzzles the water and rolls the cold bottle against her forehead. ““But I’m feeling it right now. Know what I mean?”

  To my miserable dismay, I do.

  “Anyway, I gotta pee. You want to come?”

  I shake my head. “I’ll wait here.”

  While she disappears into the mob, I finish my bottle of water and then glance around the club. It’s a lot more crowded now, and I notice quite a few interested looks aimed in my direction.

  I make eye contact with a cute guy with a punk haircut. He’s wearing jeans, a tight fitting T-shirt, and Converse tennis shoes. A strobe light highlights the piercing over his eyebrow and in his upper lip.

  He looks…comfortable. Like I know him. Like we’re cut from the same cloth. I give him a tentative smile, which he returns. I watch as he murmurs something to one of his friends and then starts across the floor toward me. I straighten—

  “Hey, little sis. Let’s dance.” Easton pops up out of nowhere, his big body towering over me.

  The boy headed my way stops. Crap. “I’m taking a breather.” Should I wave to him to let him know it’s okay? That Easton won’t bite?

  Easton tracks my gaze and glares at pierced guy until the pierced guy raises his hands in surrender and returns to his table. “So where were we?” Easton asks innocently. “Oh yeah, we’re dancing.”

  I sigh
and give in. Easton just made it clear he’ll chase off any other guy tonight. He grabs me by my waist and virtually carries me to the dance floor.

  “You look hot tonight. If you weren’t my sister, I’d be all over you.”

  “You were already all over me.” I cock a brow at his blank look. “Last night?”

  He grins. “Oh right. That. C’mon, let’s dance.”

  A few guys slap him on the back as we sway past and shout something like “you the man.” I ignore it because if Easton’s here, then it must be Reed I saw before. Reed who I danced for. Reed who devoured me with his eyes and made me feel so hot my body still feels like it’s on fire.

  “I’m pretty sure you’d be all over anyone in the state you’re in,” I remark.

  Easton’s hands run up my sides, skimming over my dress and settling on the bare skin exposed by the cut outs. “I’ve got a few standards. Not many but a few.”

  “Glad I make the cut,” I say dryly.

  He tugs me closer but surprisingly his hands don’t wander. I twine my arms around his neck and wonder what game we’re playing now.

  “You put on a good show. I would’ve liked to have seen you strip.”

  “You go first and maybe, if you’re good enough, I’ll return the favor.”

  His eyes fill with glee. He loves the idea of a spectacle. “Little sis, I can’t show you my goods. I’m so fine, just the sight of me would ruin you for all other men.”

  I laugh against my will. “You’re too much, Easton.”

  “I am.” He nods solemnly. “It’s why I sleep around. Because no one girl can handle all of me.”

  This declaration makes me roll my eyes. “If telling yourself that story makes you feel better, then have at it.”

  “Oh I do, don’t worry.” He dips his head near mine and the wave of alcohol nearly knocks me off my feet.

  “Jeez, you smell like a brewery.” I shove him a little to put some distance between us.

  He smiles, but it isn’t pretty. “I’m an alcoholic, don’t you know? I’ve got addiction problems. I inherited those from my mommy just like your mom passed sluttiness down to you. Aren’t those grand gifts?”

  If it wasn’t for the hurt in his eyes, I would’ve told him that I’d rather dress like a slut than drown in a bottle, but his pain is one I recognize, so instead of making some flippant comment in response, I drag his head to my shoulder.