"Can I get you more wine, honey?" Brooke offers. Callum's glass is almost overflowing already.

"No. I'm perfect." He smiles easily. "I've got the two most beautiful ladies sitting down to dinner with me. The steak is cooked perfectly and I just closed a deal with Singapore Air."

Brooke clasps her hands together. "You are just amazing. Have I told you how amazing you are?"

She leans close, her breasts squashing against his arm, and plants a wet kiss against his cheek. He casts a quick glance in my direction before gently moving away. Brooke makes a small noise of disappointment but settles into her chair.

I dig into my steak. I don't know if I've ever had a piece of meat so juicy before.

"Steak is very fattening. All red meat is," Brooke informs me.

"Ella doesn't need to worry about that," Callum says brusquely.

"Not now, but later you'll regret it," Brooke warns.

I look down at the succulent piece of meat and then over at Brooke's willowy frame. I think I get where she's coming from. Like me, she's poor. She relies on Callum's generosity and probably fears that if she's less beautiful tomorrow, he'll be done with her. I don't know if she's wrong or right, but it doesn't make her concerns less valid. Still, I'm hungry and I want this steak. "Thanks for your input."

Callum smothers a chuckle as Brooke frowns. An expression I can't make out flits across her face. Something like disappointment or disapproval. Her pouty lips firm and she turns to Callum, engaging him in conversation about some party they went to before I arrived.

Guilt makes my next bite of meat a little less delicious than the first one. I hurt her feelings and now she's shutting me out. Other than Valerie, she was the one friendly face around in this new place and now I've offended her.

"Should we plan a party to welcome Ella into the family?" Callum suggests, trying to include me in the conversation.

And Callum. He's been nothing but perfect since he dragged me out of Daddy G's, but a party with the assholes from school? I'd rather have my fingernails pulled out one by one.

I place my fork beside my plate. "I don't need a party. You've already given me everything I need."

Brooke lays her head against Callum's stiff shoulder. "Callum, don't worry about it. Ella will make friends in her own time, won't you, darling?"

I nod in agreement. "That's right."

I summon up my best smile, and it must work because the tension in his body disappears. "All right, then. No party."

"Callum's the best, isn't he?" Brooke reaches up to toy with the top button of his shirt. Her actions are possessive, almost as if she's trying to defend her territory. I want to tell her I'm not a threat, but I don't know if she'd believe me. "We're his soiled doves. Hopefully once we're cleaned up, he doesn't send us away."

"No one's sending Ella away. She's a Royal," Callum declares.

My gaze shifts to Brooke, and by the tight expression on her face, she doesn't miss that her name wasn't included in his pronouncement.

"Really? I thought she was Steve's daughter. Is there something you're not telling us?" Brooke trills.

He rears back as if she hit him. "What? No. Of course she's Steve's. But he's"-Callum swallows hard-"he's gone, and so Ella is part of my family now just as the boys would have been Steve's if anything had happened to me."

"Of course. I didn't mean anything other than you're generous." Her voice drops to a purr. "So very generous."

With each word, she moves closer and closer to Callum until she's virtually on his lap. He switches his fork to his left hand and drapes an arm around the back of Brooke's chair. His eyes plead with me to understand. I'm using her just as she's using me.

I get it, I really do. This is a man who lost his wife and best friend in a short span of time. I know what loss feels like, and if Brooke fills up those empty spaces for Callum, then good for him.

But I don't need to watch them in action.

"I'm going inside to get a-" I don't even bother finishing because Brooke has climbed on top of Callum. I watch wide-eyed as she straddles him, pulling on his ears like he's a hobby horse.

"Not here, Brooke." His eyes flicker toward me.

I start walking-quickly-toward the kitchen. Behind me, I hear her reassure Callum.

"She's seventeen, darling. She probably knows more about sex than the two of us put together. And if she doesn't, your boys will expose her innocent eyes soon enough."

That makes me cringe, but whatever spell Brooke has cooked up is doing its thing because I hear Callum groan.

"Wait. Wait. Brooke."

She giggles breathily and then Callum's chair starts squeaking. Damn, this is a big patio.

Easton is coming out of the kitchen as I make my escape inside. He peers past me, totally unfazed by what's happening on the patio.

"Welcome to the Royal Palace," he says. An impish grin spreads across his face and he yells, "Don't forget to wrap it before you tap it. We don't need more money-grubbing illegitimate kids in this family."

My smile dies off immediately. "Did someone teach you how to be a jerk or does it come naturally?"

Easton hesitates for a moment, but then, as if Reed is sitting on his shoulder, he drops his hand to his crotch. "Why don't you come upstairs and I'll show you just how good I am in my natural state?"

"Pass." I walk by as calmly as possible, and I don't start running until I hit the stairs.

Once I'm in the privacy of my bedroom, I list all the reasons why I shouldn't leave immediately. I remind myself that I'm not hungry. I have ten grand in my backpack. I'm not stripping for greedy men with dollar bills clutched in their sweaty hands. I can handle two years of sexual come-ons and personal putdowns from the Royal boys.

But for the rest of the night I stay in my room, where I spend the time looking for part-time jobs using the shiny new MacBook that magically appeared on my desk. There's no public transport outside the house, but I passed a bus stop last night that wasn't too far away. Maybe a quarter of a mile.

The next day, I make the walk, and according to my watch it takes ten minutes at a brisk pace, which is more like a half mile. The Sunday bus schedule is snoozy-only one every hour and it stops at six. Whatever job I get would need to be over early on Sundays.

On my way home, Gideon drives by in a shiny SUV. His hair is sticking up and he's got red marks on his neck. If it were anyone else, I'd say he just had sex, but he looks too angry for that. Maybe he fought with a raccoon.

"What are you doing?" he barks.

"Walking."

"Get in." He stops and shoves open the door. "You shouldn't be out here alone."

"Seems like a nice place." The houses are big. The lawns are bigger. Besides, his brothers had no problem ditching me on this road the other night. "The most danger I've encountered this morning is a big bad man trying to lure me into his truck. Good thing I know better."

A reluctant smile lurks on the corner of his mouth. "I don't have any candy or ice cream, so by default I should be considered safe."

"Nah, just a shitty kidnapper."

"You coming or are we going to block the Sunday traffic all day?"

I glance behind him and see another car coming. Why the hell not? It's a short trip to the house.

Gideon doesn't say anything during the drive, only rubs his arm a couple of times. A few minutes later, he stops in front of the entrance and puts the car in park.

"Thanks for the ride, Gideon." When he doesn't follow me inside, I glance over and call out to the SUV. "Not coming?"

He looks up at the house. "No. I need a swim. A long one."

Then he rubs his arm again like there's dirt on it that he simply can't get off. He catches me watching him and frowns.

I want to ask if there's anything wrong but the no trespassing look that shutters over his face makes me swallow back the words. I give him a worried look instead, an invitation. I've seen shit, I try to telegraph. I only get a clenched jaw in return.

On my bed is another note from Callum. I climb onto the cloud of pink and white and curl up next to the headboard to read.

Sorry about last night's dinner. Won't happen again. Durand will drive you to school in the morning. Let him know the time.

P.S. Your car is coming. Wanted to get exactly the right one and the only one with the correct color was in California.

Oh God, please don't let it be pink. I think I'll die if I'm supposed to drive Malibu Barbie's dream car.

I bolt upright from the bed. I can't believe those words even passed through my head. A car is a car. I should be grateful just to be driving one. Who cares what color it is? If it's pink, I'll get down and kiss the bubble-gum-colored fender.

Jeez. One weekend and I'm already turning into a spoiled brat.

11.

The next morning, I'm up at dawn. I'm not going to repeat my mistakes from the party. I push aside all the pretty shoes that Brooke bought and find some white canvas sneakers. I pair them with skinny jeans and a T-shirt.

I nibble on my lip. Do I leave the backpack here or take it with me? If I take it with me, some punk ass kid might steal it. If I leave it, one of the Royals might go through it. I decide to take it with me, although carrying around ten large makes me feel paranoid and jumpy.

I run into Callum in the kitchen-he's leaving for work, and he's surprised to find me up so early. I lie and tell him I'm meeting Valerie for breakfast, and he looks so excited I made a friend that I think he's going to pee his pants.

After chugging down a cup of coffee, I meet Durand outside the house two hours before school starts. "Thanks for agreeing to drive me."

He merely gives a dip of his head.

I have him drop me off at a bakery that's just minutes away from the prep school, and the moment I step inside, I'm greeted by the most heavenly smell. Behind the counter is a woman about my mom's age, with wheat-blond hair swept up in a tight, ballet-style bun.

"Hi there, sweetie, what can I get for you?" she asks with her hands poised over the register.

"I'm Ella Harper and I'd like to apply for the assistant job. The ad said there were school friendly hours? I go to Astor Park."

"Hmm, a scholarship student?" I don't correct her because it's mostly true. I'm a Callum Royal scholarship beneficiary. I hold my breath as she inspects me. "Do you have any experience baking?"

"None," I admit, "But I'm a quick learner and I'll work harder than anyone else you've ever hired. I don't mind long days or early mornings or late nights."

She purses her lips. "I'm not a fan of hiring high school students. But...we could give it a try. Say a week. You'll have to serve your peers. Will that be a problem?"

"Absolutely not."

"Some of those Astor Park kids can be a real handful."

Translation: the school is full of assholes.

"Again, the clientele is not a problem for me."

She sighs. "All right. I really do need another hand. If you show up for the next six days on time and work all your scheduled hours, the job is yours." I flash her a smile, and she slaps a hand to her heart. "Honey, you should have smiled before. It completely transforms your face. In fact, the more you smile, the more tips you'll get. Remember that."

Smiling is not my natural state. In fact, it kind of hurts. My face is so unused to it but I keep smiling because I want this nice lady to like me.

"I start baking at four but I won't expect you until five-thirty. I'll need you every morning during the week-you'll work until classes start. And on Thursdays and Fridays you'll need to come back after school and work until close, which is eight p.m. Will that interfere with any after-school activities?"

"Nope."

"Not even Friday?"

"I'm more interested in this job than anything the school has going on Friday nights."

She gives me another smile. "All right. Pick out a scone then and I'll make you up a coffee. My name's Lucy, by the way. And the rush starts in about an hour. You might change your mind after you see what a madhouse this can be."

Lucy is right-the bakery is jam-packed, but I don't mind the rush. Bustling behind the counter and serving baked goods for two hours distracts me from worrying about what will happen when I get to school.

I feel weird wearing a uniform, but I'm sure I'll get used to it soon. I notice the other girls at school have found ways to sexy up their attire. Like Savannah said, skirt lengths have been altered, and a lot of the girls leave nearly half their shirt buttons undone so you can see the lacy tops of their bras. I'm not interested in drawing attention to myself, so my hem stays at my knee and my shirt stays buttoned almost to the collar.