Bad, Bad Bluebloods (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #2)(59)

“Windsor York, at your service. Please, call me Wind. And you are?” He tugs me forward with his hold on my arm, bringing me in close proximity to the Bluebloods. The way Becky glares at me, I can almost feel her hatred burning holes in my skin. Her hair is pulled up into a bun, and hair-sprayed to high hell, but there’s no missing the giant chunk I cut off, not today. A smirk teases the edges of my mouth, and she notices.

“Have you introduced yourself to the prince properly yet,” she schmoozes, miming a blow job with her hand, her tongue poking at the inside of her cheek.

“Well, I haven’t asked him yet if he wants a blow job, but he already seems more interested in me than Zayd was in you. Once this is over, let’s go back to my room and I’ll suck you off,” I coo, imitating her nasally voice. “I can say with all honesty: I’ve never been brushed off quite so thoroughly as you.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Becky screams, launching herself forward. Zayd grabs her around the waist and hauls her back. I hate that watching him touch her upsets me so much. His green eyes meet mine, and he grits his teeth as he yanks her back in line. “As soon as I found out that Becky had hit you, I haven't touched her. I just couldn't.” Zayd’s words sound loudly inside my head, and I smile. It’s not a nice smile either.

“Bloody hell, you Americans are crazy. We’ve just met and you want to kill me?” Windsor asks, cocking his head to one side. He reaches up and adjusts his tie with his left hand, one single brow raised in question. Becky is panting now, and she shakes Zayd off to turn and glare at me again.

“Not you, the little whore next to you. That’s our resident Working Girl. If you want a cheap fuck, you can visit her in the Brothel. Otherwise, you’re better off sticking with us.” Becky sneers at me, the expression twisting her pretty face into something horrible. I raise my chin and then flip her off. There’s just something wrong with the chemistry between us; it doesn’t work. “You bitch.” She sneers and tries to come at me again, but Tristan holds out a hand and the Bluebloods freeze. Well, everyone but Creed. He leans back and rolls his eyes before yawning.

Tristan, though, is most definitely their king.

His blade gray gaze burns with fury as he looks at me standing there with the prince. His mouth is downturned, his expression as dark as his hair. He looks like he wants to kill someone. Maybe me, maybe Windsor, I’m not sure.

“Welcome to Burberry Prep,” Tristan says, his voice cold and threaded with steel. “You have a choice to make: come with us or fall with her.” He gestures in my direction with his chin, and I hold my breath, eyes sliding over to Windsor York. He’s been to schools like this before, elite boarding facilities all over Europe. Surely, he’ll know how the hierarchy works. I don’t stand a chance.

I move to take my arm from his when he tightens his grip on me, throwing a blinding smile in the direction of the Idols and their Inner Circle. Creed’s eyes meet mine, half-lidded and lazy as usual. But there’s a tightness to his chest and shoulders that I can’t possibly miss.

The tension stretches out between us and them, this thread that’s pulled so taut I can hardly breathe.

And then Windsor laughs. The sound is light and airy and fluffy. It almost makes me smile. Almost. But then I catch Zayd’s look, this muddied, confused sort of expression that tears at me. I could feel bad for getting his off-campus privileges revoked and ruining his music career, but then I think about the way he curled his arm around Becky’s waist while I stood there dripping red paint and holding back tears.

“For you all to have such a vendetta against this girl, she must be pretty damn special.” Windsor shrugs his shoulders, the stark white of the jacket highlighting how colorful his eyes are, how red his hair. He’s freaking gorgeous, I think, but then maybe it’s just because he’s defending me against them? I have no idea. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll take my chances with the most beautiful girl in the room.” He grins as Tristan frowns, and Harper steps forward, tossing her glossy brunette waves over one shoulder. Since I cut that hunk off of Becky’s hair, she’s been extremely careful to stay away from me. I’m going to have to come up with another plan. “Besides, when I set my sights out to destroy someone, I like challenging targets. You all will do quite nicely, I believe.”

“You’re making a huge mistake,” Harper purrs, sauntering forward with her hips swaying. She’s supposed to be with Tristan, but it looks like she’s making the moves on Windsor York. Guess she’s spotted an upgrade? I noticed that after Lizzie showed up at the lodge, she spent the rest of the trip avoiding her fiancé like the plague. “We own this school, Wind.” She smiles coquettishly and takes another step closer as Windsor raises his eyebrows. They’ve only just met two seconds ago, and she’s already calling him by his nickname. How cute. “Choosing the Working Girl over the school’s elite is a mistake that’ll haunt you way past your days at this academy.” She reaches up to touch his lapels, and his smile curves up in an inviting way. I see him lean toward her, like a flower straining for the light of the sun, and my heart sinks.

On the plus side, I see Tristan’s frown turn into an outright scowl.

Harper is going to get it for this stunt later on, and I didn’t have to lift a finger.

Windsor puts his mouth right up close to Harper’s and breathes on her lips. She sighs and practically falls into him.