Home > In the Arms of the Elite (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #4)(42)

In the Arms of the Elite (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #4)(42)
Author: C.M. Stunich

“What do you want in return, Myron?” Tristan asks, sounding weary as hell. “You always want something in return.”

Myron grins, flashing his teeth.

“Blood,” he says, and I shiver all over. “I want blood.”

I can’t seem to extricate myself from Tristan’s lap. I’m shaking too hard, thinking about him sleeping with Lizzie in some misguided attempt to save me.

“You scared me so bad,” I whisper, nuzzling against him as Windsor makes us all tea, and Zayd sits in a chair with his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, Marnye. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“You’re all just trying to do your best to protect me,” I say, exhaling sharply. I can’t even begin to describe how relieved I am that I got here in time. And the Myron/Lizzie thing? Totally mind-blowing. But shit, I hope she falls in love with him and leaves Tristan the fuck alone. “But you guys need to start telling me shit, Infinity Club rules or no.”

“Sometimes breaking Club rules is a life or death sort of thing,” Zack says, exhaling and running his palm over his hair. He’s watching me cling to Tristan with a dark expression, like he thinks this is it, that I’ve made my decision.

I decide to address that, unhooking my arms from around Tristan’s neck and standing up. Miranda watches me, and then excuses herself, giving me a small peck on the cheek before she retreats out of the apartment, mouthing call me before she shuts the door.

“In the spirit of continued honesty, I just … I want to say that I’ll make my decision on graduation day.”

“Decision?” Creed asks, like he’s not sure he understands what I’m getting at.

“To … pick one of you,” I whisper, my voice rough and broken. “I know I owe you guys at least that much. It’s not fair of me to keep going on like this, especially not when we’re all making decisions about colleges. I don’t want you all following me to Bornstead expecting something …”

“Nobody here is pressuring you to make a choice,” Creed says, looking away. Even though he says he hates tea, he takes the cup when Windsor presents it. “Marnye, you do you. We’re all here for you. We could give a shit less what happens with each other.”

I smile and shake my head.

I don’t know if they’ve realized it yet, and I’d really hate to break the news, but … they’re friends, the five of them. They are, it’s true. Shocking, I know. So scandalous.

Turning back to look at Tristan, I see him staring out the window, his expression far away and fragile, like it could shatter at any moment. He’s used to throwing his body around to get what he wants. I think it’s just hit him that he can’t do that anymore, that he shouldn’t have been doing it all along.

Speaking of … I’m nailing Kiara Xiao tomorrow.

I’m tired of waiting.

Harper … I have special plans for her. But the rest of Harper and Co., it’s time for them to go.

“I love you guys,” I whisper, the words soft and hushed in the tense darkness of the apartment. It’s the first time I’ve said it, and maybe it’s a copout to say it to them all at once, but … they’re like family now.

“We love you, too,” Creed says, turning back to look at me and sighing. “And … we’re sorry.”

I smile. I like the use of the word we—more than I can bear to admit.

“Apology accepted. Just … stop making decisions without talking to me first. I’m not afraid of the Infinity Club.” I put my hand over my tattoo, and exhale. “We only have a few months left. Let’s make the best of them, okay?” I sit back down on the couch and close my eyes.

These guys all think I need to be protected … but I think they need my protection, too.

“I’m sorry, Charity,” Zayd whispers again, but really, he’s got the least to apologize for. If he hadn’t told me … and I’d walked in on Tristan and Lizzie? I might’ve killed her.

“No more apologizing. Can we please just put a rom-com on and hang out together—without Lizzie?”

“No more Lizzie,” Tristan agrees, standing up and heading into his room. He comes back with a bundle of clothing, passing out sweats and loose shirts and tanks to the other guys. “Here. Borrow some pajamas, and get comfortable. I have a feeling our girlfriend isn’t letting any of us out that door tonight.”

“Damn straight,” I say, a smile working its way across my lips.

I sleep better that night than I have all year.

I’m done playing games.

The next morning, I take Miranda and Andrew with me and grab some of my new first year friends from The Mess. It doesn’t take much to encourage them to take up residence in Harper’s gazebo, that little niche she’s selected for herself and her cronies.

Kiara likes to come out here before class and do yoga.

I know that seeing these first years in her spot is going to piss her off to no end.

And once a bully, always a bully.

“I agree,” I say to Principal Collins as we walk down the path together under the pretense of discussing universities. She, too, went to Bornstead. “It is important to visit the campus before making a final decision; I figured we’d head up there for spring break.”

“A productive use of the break,” she says, nodding appreciatively, her skin crinkling slightly as she smiles at me and adjusts her glasses. “I’ll admit, Marnye, I was worried when you started hanging out with the Idols. I most certainly never expected you to become an Idol yourself.” I raise my brows at her frank discussion of student politics, but then, the woman isn’t stupid. The tradition of Bluebloods at Burberry Prep is over a hundred years old. Of course the staff knows about it, just like they know about the Infinity Club. Would not surprise me to find out that some of them are members, too.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Kiara snaps, grabbing a first year girl by the tie and shoving her out of the gazebo so hard that she trips and ends up ass deep in the decorative pond outside the gazebo. “I’ve seen you slobbering all over Jason, you pathetic whore.”

“I never laid a finger on him!” the girl shouts back, and I feel the smallest twinge of guilt. I may or may not have selected these specific first years knowing that one of them’s been flirting with Kiara’s new boyfriend, Jason Marrin. “And he asked me out.”

“You bitch,” Kiara snarls, storming over and slapping the younger girl as hard as she can across the face.

“Miss Xiao!” Principal Collins shouts, her eyes wide. She veers away from me and takes off in that direction as Kiara snaps her gaze around and sputters, trying to come up with an excuse for her behavior.

But hmm.

That zero tolerance bullying policy is still in effect.

Good thing I slipped some of the notes Kiara’s been writing to Harper under the Principal’s office door. I made sure none of them implicated her majesty in any way though. I am not ready for her to go down, especially not for such a small infraction.

Although … I guess threatening to kill someone for supposedly sleeping with your boyfriend is pretty fucked-up.

I continue walking, heading back into the chapel just in time for breakfast.

When I get to The Mess, Lizzie is waiting for me.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

“I can’t believe you tried to blackmail Tristan into fucking you. You’re pathetic.” Creed circles Lizzie like a shark. In fact, all the boys are surrounding her, and her face is streaked with tears. To be fair, what she tried to do was beyond fucked-up, but I did say no bullying, didn’t I?

“She’s a waste of life,” Tristan says, his eyes narrowed. “I liked you as a friend, and you used my love for Marnye against me. Don’t you see how pathetic you are?”

“Boys.”

I walk across the stone floor, heels clacking, and pause next to them.

“Marnye,” Zack says, stepping back, like he’s acknowledging it’s my turn to talk.

My eyes meet Lizzie’s amber ones.

“I think you should go back to Coventry Prep,” I say, and her mouth drops open. “Go back there and hang out with your old friends. You’re done here.”

“But I—”

“No.” I cut her off and look her directly in the face. “You are done here. Go home.”

The door bursts open behind us, and Miranda comes in with Myron Talbot on her heels. She grabs me by the arm, and squeezes in what I can only assume is a bit of a warning. Don’t mess with the girl Myron likes, or he’ll destroy you. That’s what it feels like she’s trying to say.

Meanwhile, Andrew buries himself in his oatmeal and stays the hell out of this. Smart choice. Wish I could do the same.

“You guys can sit down,” I tell my cadre of boyfriends, and even though Windsor looks askance at Myron, like he’d quite willingly step between me and him if needed, he listens. For once.

All five boys sit around the high table and get comfortable. Creed has one boot up on the actual table itself which, you know, could be considered bad manners but that I find cute anyway. I tear my eyes away from them to stare at Lizzie Walton.

“I tried to make things fair. Even though I’ve been in love with Tristan Vanderbilt since first year, even though I’ve endured so much shit from him. I wanted to give him the privilege of making a fair and unbiased choice, but … you’re not as nice as you pretend to be, are you?”

She just stares at me from those amber eyes of hers, her face crestfallen, as splinted and sharp as broken glass.

“To tell you the truth, I only came here because of Tristan. I mean, I liked you Marnye, I wanted to be friends, but I don’t think I can. Not when you’ve got him.” She gestures in the direction of the high table and then sighs, reaching up to smooth her palms over her dark hair. “I can leave by Friday—”

   
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