Bad, Bad Bluebloods (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #2)(72)

“You joined to get your money back?” I ask, and all the pieces start to click together. At least I have a why that explains why Zack made that bet with Lizzie. Does it make things easier? Not exactly. But it’s nice to know. Speaking of Lizzie, I’m starting to look forward to Fridays again, so I can text her. She knows all about what the Burberry Idol girls did to me, and she is out for blood. Pretty sure I have her help and resources, too.

“I’m sorry, Marnye,” Zack whispers, and we end up staring at each other for so long that when I blink and come to, Windsor has disappeared. “I’m so sorry.” There’s nothing for me to say, so I just smile tightly and we drop the subject altogether. Zack gathers up his stuff, and we head toward the exit where Creed and Miranda are, still wrapped up in a very twin-like argument. They look like blonde, blue-eyed clones.

They pause, and in near perfect unison, turn to look at me.

My cheeks flush under their scrutiny, but Creed pretends not to notice, turning and sauntering off toward the hall. Miranda takes up my right side and starts to loudly complain about her brother’s idiocy. On the way out, we pass right by Ileana, Becky, and Harper. Creed’s already paused there, and I can hear him murmuring in low, tight tones.

Miranda does not hesitate to get involved.

“You stay the fuck away from my brother,” she hisses, shoving Ileana in the shoulder. The first year girl stumbles and whirls on her with narrowed eyes. Harper and Becky just stand there, smirking. Seeing them all together like this brings those memories roaring back to the surface, and I feel sick. I think I sway on my feet, but Zack puts a hand on my elbow and steadies me. “He might want a good name to go with our fortune, but you won’t see a damn dime of the Cabot money. You’re not good enough to be his hairdresser let alone his girlfriend or future bride.”

Creed doesn’t argue. Actually, I think I see the corner of his mouth twitch in a barely suppressed smile.

“This conversation doesn’t involve you, dyke,” Ileana snarls, and Creed’s face turns to stone. Ileana whips back around toward him, but it’s too late: whatever they might’ve been talking about is over. Hopefully they weren’t doing much more than breaking up or exchanging quips. I mean, the girl tried to freaking drown me.

I glance over at Creed, but his ice-cold stare is focused on the Idols.

“She said you should be kicked out,” I blurt suddenly, nodding in Harper’s direction with my chin. “Harper did. She thinks Windsor should be an Idol and not you.”

“Yeah, well, that was before I realized he was a Brothel client, too, just like all the rest of them.” Harper grabs Ileana by the arm and pulls her back. “Forget about Cabot. There are other, better guys to choose from.”

“None as rich though,” Creed drawls, tucking his hands into his pockets, and letting this lazy smirk take over his face. “Enjoy your dwindling fortune. Being old money is nice, but only when you actually have money.”

“Screw you, Cabot,” Ileana snaps, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. Maybe eventually, I’ll cut hers off, too. “You’re making a huge mistake here. Fucking huge. You’ll never be respected in the Club. You’ll always be the new guy whose mommy bought his way in.”

“And you’ll always be the girl with the chip on her shoulder because I’d willingly fuck the Working Girl before I’d ever lay hands on you.” Creed turns on his heel and saunters off as my eyes widen, and Ileana’s mouth drops to the floor. The glare she turns on me is pure hate.

“Next time,” she snaps as Harper and Becky flank her, “there isn’t going to be a prince to save you.”





I’ve been secretly dreading Valentine’s Day since … well, the school year started. Last year was eventful enough. This year … I’m not sure what I should do. I decide that, as much as it pains me, I have to send the Idol boys roses. If I want to draw them in the way they did me, why not use the same techniques?

So, I order a rose each for Tristan, Zayd, and Creed as well as for Zack, Miranda, Andrew … and Windsor. Why not? At the last minute, I even order one for Jessie. She might not be dating Miranda anymore, but she’s still getting picked on by the Inner Circle, and I feel like it’s at least partially my fault.

“What a quaint little tradition,” Windsor says, pausing next to the seller’s booth to sniff the bouquet that’s on display. That’s his personality right there: he’s very much a stop and sniff the roses type. “But I have too many girlfriends to send out roses. If I tried, I’d probably forget a good half dozen, and that wouldn’t be pleasant, now would it?”

I give him a disgusted look, and he smiles at me, bending down to sign the form as I frown.

“You just said you’re not sending flowers? What are you doing?”

Windsor reaches into his pocket and pulls out a five dollar bill, tossing it on the table and stepping back.

“You don’t want a flower? Really, it’s the least I could do for my new friend. You’re truly the only person who talks to me who doesn’t want money, sex, or gossip.” Wind shrugs his shoulders and then pauses as Tristan approaches the table, pausing next to me, his peppermint and cinnamon scent overwhelming as I suck in a sharp breath.

I’d sort of forgotten how awe-inspiring it was to stand so close to him. That moment on the boat when he grabbed my arms and kissed me hard and fast. “Just remember that Creed isn’t the only one that’s interested.” My heart melted when he said that. Even knowing it’s all a lie now doesn’t make that feeling go away.