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Broken Prince: A Novel (The Royals)
by Erin Watt

Published: 2016-07-25
Paperback : 370 pages
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These Royals will ruin you…

From wharf fights and school brawls to crumbling lives inside glittery mansions, one guy tries to save himself.

Reed Royal has it all—looks, status, money. The girls at his elite prep school line up to date him, the guys want to be him, but Reed ...

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Introduction

These Royals will ruin you…

From wharf fights and school brawls to crumbling lives inside glittery mansions, one guy tries to save himself.

Reed Royal has it all—looks, status, money. The girls at his elite prep school line up to date him, the guys want to be him, but Reed never gave a damn about anyone but his family until Ella Harper walked into his life.

What started off as burning resentment and the need to make his father’s new ward suffer turned into something else entirely—keep Ella close. Keep Ella safe. But when one foolish mistake drives her out of Reed’s arms and brings chaos to the Royal household, Reed’s entire world begins to fall apart around him.

Ella doesn’t want him anymore. She says they’ll only destroy each other.

She might be right.

Secrets. Betrayal. Enemies. It’s like nothing Reed has ever dealt with before, and if he’s going to win back his princess, he’ll need to prove himself Royally worthy.

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Excerpt

CHAPTER TWO

Two hours later, I’m freaking out. It’s past midnight, and Ella isn’t back.

Would she just come home and yell at me already? I need her to bring her cute butt back here and tell me that I’m an asshole who isn’t worth her time. I need her in my face, spitting fire at me. I need her to scream at me, kick me, punch me.

I fucking need her.

I check my phone. It’s been hours since she left. I punch in her number, but it rings and rings.

Another call and I’m shuttled to voicemail.

I text, Where RU?

No response.

Dad’s worried.

I type out the lie hoping that it gets a response, but my phone remains silent. Maybe she’s blocked my number? The thought stings, but it’s not totally crazy, so I run inside and go up to my brother’s room. Ella can’t have blocked us all.

Easton’s still sleeping, but his phone is charging on his nightstand. I flick it on and type out another message. She likes Easton. She paid off his debt. She’d answer Easton, wouldn’t she?

Hey. Reed told me something happened. U OK?

Nothing.

Maybe she parked down the road and is walking on the shore? I pocket my brother’s phone in case she decides to contact him and then hurry downstairs toward the back patio.

The shoreline is completely empty, so I jog down to the Worthington estate, a property four houses down. She’s not there, either.

I look around, down the rocky shoreline, out into the ocean, and see nothing. No person. No imprints in the sand. Nothing.

Frustration gives way to panic as I race back to the house and climb into my Range Rover. Finger on the start button, I rapidly tap my fist against the dashboard. Think. Think. Think.

Valerie’s. She must be at Valerie’s.

In less than ten minutes, I’m idling outside of Val’s house, but there’s no sporty blue convertible on the street. Leaving the Rover’s engine running, I hop out and hurry up the driveway. Ella’s car isn’t back there either.

I glance at my phone again. No messages. Same with Easton’s. The display tells me I have football practice in twenty minutes, which means Ella’s expected at the bakery where she works. Not because she needs the money, but for some other reason I don’t fully understand. We usually ride together. Even after she got her car—a gift from my dad—we rode together.

Ella said it was because she didn’t like to drive. I told her it was dangerous to drive in the morning. Our excuses were lies. We told each other lies. We lied to ourselves because neither of us were willing to admit the truth—we couldn’t resist each other. At least that’s the way it was for me. From the moment she walked in the door, all big eyes and guarded hope, I couldn’t keep away.

My instincts had screamed at me that she was trouble. My instincts were wrong. She wasn’t trouble. I was. Still am.

Reed, the destroyer.

It’d be a cool life nickname if it wasn’t my life and hers that I’m taking down.

I swing by the house, in case she returned for our morning commute, but there’s no sign of her. The bakery’s parking lot is empty when I arrive. After five minutes of nonstop pounding on the door, the owner—Lucy, I think—appears with a frown.

“We don’t open for another hour,” she informs me.

“I’m Reed Royal, Ella’s…” What am I? Her boyfriend? Her stepbrother? What? “Friend.” Hell, I’m not even that. “Is she here? There’s a family emergency.”

“No, she never showed up.” Lucy’s brow creases with worry. “I called her and she didn’t answer. She’s such a good employee I thought maybe she was sick and couldn’t call in.”

My heart sinks. Ella’s never missed a day at the bakery even though it requires her to get up at the ass crack of dawn and work nearly three hours before classes start.

“Oh, okay, she must be home in bed,” I mumble, backing away.

“Wait a minute!” Lucy calls after me. “What’s going on? Does your father know Ella is missing?”

“She’s not missing, ma’am,” I call back, already halfway to my car. “She’s at home. Like you said, sick. In bed.”

I peel out of the parking lot and call Coach. “I’m not gonna make it to practice. Family emergency,” I repeat.

I shut out the shouted expletives from Coach Lewis. He winds down after a few minutes. “All right, son. But I expect your ass to be in uniform bright and early tomorrow.”

“Yessir.”

Back home once again, I find our housekeeper, Sandra, has arrived to make breakfast.

“You see Ella?” I ask the plump brunette.

“Can’t say that I have.” Sandra checks the clock. “She—and you—are usually gone by now. What’s going on? Don’t you have practice?”

“Coach had a family emergency,” I lie. I’m so damn good at lying. It becomes almost second nature when you hide the truth every hour of every day.

Sandra tsks. “Hope it’s nothing too serious.”

“Me too,” I answer. “Me too.”

Upstairs, I enter the room I should have checked before racing off. Maybe she crept in while I was trying to find her. But Ella’s bedroom is dead silent. Her bed is still made. The desk is immaculate.

I check her bathroom, which also looks untouched. Ditto with the closet. All her stuff is hanging on matching wooden hangers. Her shoes are lined up in a neat row on the floor. There are unopened boxes and bags still stuffed with clothes that Brooke probably picked out for her.

Forcing myself not to feel bad about invading her privacy, I dig through her nightstand—empty. I flipped her room once, back when I still didn’t trust her, and she always kept a book of poetry and a man’s watch in the nightstand. The watch was an exact replica of my father’s. Hers had belonged to Dad’s best friend Steve, Ella’s bio-dad.

I pause in the middle of the room and look around. There’s nothing here to indicate her presence. Not her phone. Not her book. Not her…oh hell no, her backpack is gone.

I tear out of the room and down the hall to Easton’s.

“East, wake up. East!” I say sharply.

“What?” He groans. “Is it time to get up?” His eyes flicker open and he squints. “Oh shit. I’m late for practice. Why aren’t you there already?”

He shoots out of bed, but I grab his arm before he can dart off. “We’re not going to practice. Coach knows.”

“What? Why—”

“Forget that right now. How much was your debt?”

“My what?”

“How much did you owe the bookie?”

He blinks at me. “Eight grand. Why?”

I do some quick math. “That means Ella’s got about two g’s left, right?”

“Ella?” He frowns. “What about her?”

“I think she ran.”

“Ran where?”

“Ran away. Ran off,” I growl. I shove away from the bed and stalk to the window. “Dad paid her to stay here. Gave her ten grand. Think about it, East. He had to pay this orphan who was stripping for a living ten grand to come live with us. And he was probably gonna pay that to her every month.”

“Why’d she leave?” he asks in confusion, still half asleep.

I continue to stare out the window. Once his grogginess wears off, he’ll put it together.

“What did you do?”

Yep, here we go.

The floor creaks as he whips around the room. Behind me I can hear him muttering curses under his breath while he dresses.

“Doesn’t matter,” I say impatiently. Turning back, I give him the rundown of the places I’ve been. “Where do you think she is?”

“She’s got enough for a plane ticket.”

“But she’s careful with her money. She hasn’t spent hardly any of it while she’s been here.”

Easton nods thoughtfully. Then we lock eyes and speak in unison, almost as if we’re the twins of the Royal household rather than our brothers, Sawyer and Sebastian. “GPS.”

We call the GPS service Atlantic Aviation owns and that my dad installs in every car he’s ever bought. The helpful assistant tells us that the new Audi S5 is parked at the bus station.

We’re out the door before she even starts to give us the address. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

Reed's first instinct is to turn to his fists when there is a problem. This doesn't solve his problems. Does he learn a different way to respond later in the book?

How would you react if you were Ella when confronted with Jordan's actions at the school?

Do you agree with the tactics of Callum in dealing with Daniel Delacorte?

Ella is the linchpin holding the Royal family together. What is it about her character that appeals to the Royal boys?

A teenager in Texas did no jail time despite driving drunk and killing four people because the judge said the teen suffered from a case of affluenza. Many of the Astor Prep kids suffer from the same disease. Do you believe money would affect your view of the world?

Reed tells Easton that they aren't good for Ella. Is that true? Is she better off by herself?

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