The Envy of Idols (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #3)(10)

“What do you suggest we do?” Creed grinds out, watching my interaction with Tristan.

“Take the Bluebloods down, and recreate our own court from scratch.” Tristan turns back to look at me, and my breath catches. The two of them are talking like they're rebuilding a medieval court full of knights and royalty and courtiers.

In a way, I guess, they are.

“You're taking down the Bluebloods?” I ask, my heart thumping as Tristan studies me carefully, taking in my swollen lips with a long, lingering stare. He raises his gaze back to mine as I wonder how possible it'd be to slip around him and put some distance between us.

At the Royal Pointe Lodge, he stood up to Harper for me. He broke his engagement. He's going to get shit from his dad.

“Weren't you already doing that?” he asks, lifting his hands up and curling his fingers around my upper arms. His touch burns me, and I'm already on fire from Creed. This sucks, I think, and then, but it's also awesome. It feels good, but it hurts, too. “The only difference this time is that you'll have our help.” Tristan's cruel slash of a mouth twists into a small smile. “Now that we've pissed Harper off to homicidal levels, you may as well know the truth.”

“About what?” I choke, but then Tristan's slamming his mouth into mine, kissing me so hard and fast that I feel completely dizzy, coming undone in his tight grip. Each place he touches me, burns. It burns so hot and bright that I see starbursts behind my eyes, and my knees feel weak. He pulls away so fast that I'm left gasping, and Creed's right there in front of me, like he may have gone for Tristan if he'd been able to catch him.

“Get dressed, and we'll all walk together. We need to provide a united front.” Tristan takes off for the door as Creed curses him and flips him off behind his back.

“Who's all?” Creed drawls, narrowing his eyes as I step forward, trying to still the rapid beating of my heart and figure out what the hell just happened there, or what's going on with these guys.

“Me, you, Zayd, Myron, Miranda, Andrew …” Tristan starts and then pauses, like the rest of his words are painful. “Zack, Windsor, Lizzie … and Marnye.” He looks back at me, and my eyes go wide.

Not that I care about any of this, but … Tristan wants me to walk with the Bluebloods? This is a political statement in a major way.

Tristan turns away and tucks his fingers into his pockets, heading into the hallway and breezing past Miranda like she doesn't even exist. No surprise there. That's how he lives most of his life, ignoring people unless he's bullying or fucking them. I frown hard, and my nostrils flare. My stomach twists into strange knots, and I have to close my eyes and breathe through a surge of strange emotions.

When I open my eyes back up, Tristan has long since disappeared down the stairs and Miranda is looking at me with both brows raised in question.

“He told you the plan?” she starts, and I just stare at her.

“Not exactly,” I reply, my voice tight. Creed moves up to stand beside me, and I swear to god, I can feel his eyes on me. Turning my gaze up to his, I can see his ice blue eyes are dark with lust, like sapphires in a deep, blue sea.

“He's beyond frustrating, isn't he? Is it any wonder that I hate him so damn much?” Creed sighs, and looks up at the ceiling. Over the past two years, we've spent a decent amount of time together, but … none of it felt as real as this. For the first time ever, I feel like maybe I'm seeing a bit of the real Creed … um, Whatever-His-Middle-Name-Is, Cabot.

“He's … a character,” I say, but my mind is wandering back to that moment in The Mess, that kiss, the way he grabbed my tie, and all the things I said before that. “Love. It’s possible for someone to love you for you, Tristan. Trust me, I know: I was there.”

My face turns six shades of red, and I move around behind Creed, putting my palms on his back and pushing him right out the door. He's so surprised, he just lets me move him around. When he turns to look at me, his expression of confusion morphs into one of smug, self-assuredness.

“Oh, Marnye,” he starts, but I'm already slamming the door in his face.

“Get dressed!” I shout out, and then I turn and put my back to the door, close my eyes, and sink to the floor.

It's going to be a long, hot summer, that much I know for sure.





I'm the last one to get downstairs, dressed in an outfit I bought for myself when Miranda and I went shopping yesterday. Her eyes glittered when she saw me in, but still, I feel a tad self-conscious …

“Holy shit,” Zayd says as I come down the first curve of the staircase and pause on the landing. I feel like Janey Briggs in Not Another Teen Movie, when she makes a slo-mo appearance on the stairs and then falls through them. Yep, that'd be me for sure. I should never have let Miranda make us watch that damn movie. “Charity, you clean up good.”

“Don't call her Charity,” Zack growls, his brown eyes narrowed as he takes in the rock star with no small amount of distaste.

“As long as it's in jest, I don't mind,” I say, continuing down the steps as Miranda and Andrew exchange a knowing look and then smile at me. Creed is lounging on the couch, draped over it like a boneless king. He pretends not to be looking, but I can feel his gaze like it's made of flames.