The Punk and the Plaything (When Rivals Play #3) - B.B. Reid Page 0,87

of his personal assets and half the companies under his umbrella?”

Jason seemed surprised as he studied me for a few seconds too long. Yeah, I’ve been doing my homework, but nothing ever quite added up. Or perhaps I was just too stubborn to believe the lengths that Bee would go to. Her actions didn’t align with the girl I once knew.

So maybe it’s time I accept that Bee is gone.

I gritted my teeth, refusing to believe that.

“Seems to me like you already have all the puzzle pieces. You just need to believe what your gut is already telling you,” Jason advised.

“The Montgomerys are broke.”

“Yes,” Jason confirmed without hesitation.

I didn’t trust that fucking gleam in his eye, but my gut also told me that he wasn’t lying. I wasn’t blind. I’d noticed the missing paintings, their lack of servants, and most recently, the sale of their summer home in the Hamptons.

“What the fuck does that have to do with Bee and Ever dating?”

“Elliot is looking for someone with a large enough cash flow to keep his company afloat and pull them out of debt.”

My fists balled at my sides. “So you’re telling me Bee was after our money?”

All this fucking time, that was what she’d wanted all along?

I wasn’t sure if finding out that Bee was a gold digger pissed me off more than thinking she’d been in love with my cousin. I would say the two were running about neck and neck.

“Aw, don’t be too hard on her,” Jason said while clasping my shoulder again. I shrugged his hand off even while my mind was busy racing. “This lifestyle of ours is hard to give up once you’re used to it. Our Bee’s a survivor. Always has been.”

Hearing that, for some reason, pissed me off. Bee had played me, used my friends, and ripped my fucking heart in two again. When I got through with her, fighter or not, she wouldn’t be surviving me.

BRYNWOOD’S SENIOR CLASS HAD BEEN plagued with a fever. In exactly one week, we’d be accepting our diplomas. While many of them, even the ones attending college in the fall, weren’t thinking past their summer plans, I was thinking much farther ahead. In two weeks, I’d be eighteen. I’d also be far away from my father, Jamie, and Blackwood Keep. Forever. Today was just one more step closer.

It was also our senior breakfast day.

The entire senior class had been loaded onto two school buses to prevent the rowdiest of the graduates from skipping breakfast altogether and finding trouble somewhere else. The country club my parents frequented every weekend had graciously given Brynwood access to their ballroom and renowned chefs.

Finding an empty bench on the musty bus, I sat my bag down on the seat next to me. No one would be sitting there, anyway. It was ironic that I’d been crowned queen of the school only to be treated like a pariah. It was only when Ever was around that anyone bothered to bow and scrape, which was fine with me. I’d prefer not at all, but I was no longer interested in changing anyone’s opinion of me.

I’d just pulled out my journal filled with poems, keeping it hidden from view, when my bag was lifted from the seat. A body too long for the cramped space took its place, and when I turned my head, I was surprised to find Ever smiling nervously at me. I hadn’t spoken to him in almost a week, not since he sent me a text Sunday morning saying that he was coming over. His only explanation when he never showed up was that something had come up.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked over his shoulder. His back was half turned to me as he stretched his long legs out in the aisle. “Four snuck onto another bus with Tyra, and Vaughn said it was either his lap or nothing.”

Sure enough, I spotted Vaughn two rows ahead, lying on his back with his feet planted in the aisle, forcing people to step over his legs to get by. What an asshole. Of course, no one dared bitch about it to Brynwood’s star quarterback. I wanted to ask where Jamie might be lurking since he was technically still a member of the senior class, but when I remembered the last thing I’d said to him, I swallowed the words.

“So here you are,” I said instead.

“So here I am.”

Shrugging, I refocused on my journal. I wasn’t sure how long I stared at