Bad, Bad Bluebloods (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #2)(2)

There’s a tattoo there, an infinity tattoo.

Everyone goes silent as Windsor drops his shirt and sighs.

“I’ve been resisting the Club for a long, long time, but Marnye needs someone on the inside to watch her back, so … here I am!” He raises his arms up in the air for emphasis, and then drops them by his sides. “Oh, and I’m an awful, dirty fucking wanker. I don’t have a trust fund, or parents breathing down my neck that control my purse strings: I have nine billion in personal assets to play with.” Windsor pauses, crossing one arm over his chest and resting the elbow of the other in his palm. “Well, twelve billion in US dollars, I suppose.”

“Do you think I’m threatened by you?” Harper chokes out with a laugh. “Some tenth-string prince from a country nobody even knows about?”

“England?” Windsor asks, his voice colored with wry humor. “You do understand where the pilgrims came from, right?”

Harper turns from him to Tristan, clearly realizing that there’s no making headway with Windsor York. He just does what he wants, the rest of the world be damned.

“Last chance, Tristan,” she says, and when I see him unleash a whiplike smirk, I know he’s not going back.

“You’re going to wish you’d never met me,” Tristan says, his voice like steel. He watches as Zack moves around behind the pack of Bluebloods to stand beside me. There’s blood running down the side of his face, and I decide that as soon as we get out of here, he’s going to a doctor. His dark eyes catch on mine, and I shiver. If he hadn’t taken on Greg and John for me …

“Consider that goal accomplished,” Harper screeches, tearing the ring from her finger and throwing it at Tristan. He catches it, perfectly, one-handed. My heart skips several beats as he turns to me, silver eyes flashing.

“Let’s go. I’ve got one of Dad’s yachts.” He moves over to stand in front of me, reaches down, and cups the side of my face. Zayd, Creed, and Zack all stiffen up. Windsor chuckles, this light, airy sound that echoes across the lake. Tristan reaches up to cup the side of my face, runs his thumb along my lower lip, and then sneers at Windsor. While he’s turned away, I pull back, putting distance between myself and the guys.

Miranda meets my eyes, and there’s this interesting dichotomy in hers: half fear, half envy.

She moves toward me, away from Creed’s arms, and his jaw tightens as Miranda puts her lips near my ear.

“Which one?” she whispers, flicking her gaze at the five boys on the boat. Harper and her cronies are leaving, slowly, but there’s venom on both sides. Next year … there’s going to be a war.

Before I get a chance to answer her, Tristan gets up in Windsor’s face.

“You, go home to England and fuck off; we don’t need you here.”

“And who, precisely, is we?” Windsor asks, leveling his hazel eyes on me. They reflect back the dancing flames as he smiles and cocks a single dark brow. Tristan looks between the two of us and scowls, standing up tall and straightening out his wool coat. “As far as I can see it, Marnye very much needs me.”

“How so?” Tristan snaps, lifting his chin. Despite the inner fighting amongst the Idol boys for the throne … I think Tristan Vanderbilt still holds the crown. He’s a powerful enemy, and a potential ally. But can I trust him?

Doubtful.

“Because,” Windsor says, blinking innocently and holding a hand out to indicate me, “we’re dating.”

Zayd curses under his breath, Creed sneers, and Zack frowns.

Tristan says nothing, looking down at me with storm-gray eyes. And then he turns, walks away, and pauses at the edge of the boat. Harper du Pont is standing there waiting. She meets Tristan’s eyes first and then flicks her gaze over to mine.

“Enjoy the summer, Marnye. It’s going to be your last.” She turns, disappears down the ladder, and soon we hear the sound of a boat engine being started.

“Did she just threaten my life?” I wonder aloud, but nobody says anything. School is out, summer has started, and in the morning, we’re all going home. I’ll go back to Cruz Bay and my Dad while the boys go … wherever it is that they go.

For now, it’s all on hold.

Come September, all gloves are off.

“Come on, Marnye, I’ve got a boat, too,” Miranda says, taking my hand and leading me away from the boys. I don’t look at any of them as I walk away, past Tristan, and down the ladder.

Second year at Burberry Preparatory Academy was tough.

Third year’s going to be a nightmare.





The last person I expect to see on my doorstep is Zack Brooks.

My mouth drops open in surprise, and I slam the door closed on him. He reaches up with his palm and stops it in its tracks, pushing his way inside as I back up against the counter in shock. His brown eyes are dark with anger, and they’re narrowed on me.

“Zack,” I start, my heart pounding in my chest. I haven’t seen him since that fateful day at the lodge. We haven’t even texted. Well, maybe he texted me, but I blocked him months ago.

“Marnye.” He exhales, standing over me in a letterman jacket and jeans. His dark hair is longer than when I last saw it, and the way it falls over his forehead makes my hands tremble. “You won’t talk to me. I had no choice but to come here.”