In the Arms of the Elite (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #4) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,1

the direction of the sound.

And there she is, Harper du Pont with John Hannibal and Gregory Van Horn on either side of her.

“Hello, Marnye Reed,” she says, her lips curving up into a smile. John has a baseball bat, and Greg is holding a coil of rope.

This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all.

I scramble to get to my feet, backing up as Harper strides forward like she owns the place.

“Infinity Club rules,” she says, smiling. “Your friends did a nice job of making sure we couldn’t hire out your punishment. Marnye Elizabeth Reed can only suffer at the hands of a student …” She trails off with a sigh, tossing some of her bloodred extensions over one shoulder. “And so suffer at the hands of a student, she shall.” Harper gestures at me with her chin, and Greg and John take off toward me.

I surprise them by running straight at and between them, taking off for the casino with my torn, black graduation gown billowing behind me. My wrist throbs from when I fell off the dais during the ceremony, and there’s blood dripping from my palm, both from the parking lot gravel, and from when I caught it on the edge of Ms. Felton’s chair.

There is no way in hell I’m letting the Infinity Club win, not when I’m so close. So freaking close.

I take off around the corner, and up the steps, through the back door …

Only to run into the rest of the Bluebloods.

And when I say Bluebloods, I mean the original Bluebloods, the ones from my list.

“Marnye,” Tristan says, turning around to look at me. He smiles, and my heart turns to ice and shatters in my chest.

I refuse to believe it. I refuse.

He looks me dead in the eye and says just one word.

“Run.”

I don’t hesitate for even half a second before I do.

You think you know how this story ends.

You don't.

You don't know anything just yet.

“She's the devil,” I whisper, sitting down hard on the edge of my bed. I'm wearing white footie pajamas with ducks on them, but don't judge: they were a gift from Charlie, and I didn't have the heart to tell him I was ten years too old for them.

“Who?” Miranda asks, pausing and turning to look at me, her luxurious white-blonde hair hanging over her shoulder. She strokes it gently with the brush, watching me with eyes the color of ice chips in a stormy sea. “Oh, you mean your sister? Don't worry too much about her. My brother's a dickhead, and I still manage to put up with him.”

I sigh and run my fingers through my hair, trying not to stress too much about the boys and their whereabouts. It's been almost a week since we left them at the Vanderbilt Manor and in the hands of the Infinity Club. If Windsor hadn't texted to let me know everyone was okay, I'd think they were all like, dead or something.

“Your brother's a kitten in a tiger suit,” I tell her, sitting up and dropping my hands to my lap. “That girl, Isabella Carmichael, she reminds me of Harper.”

Miranda shivers and sets the brush down, turning fully in the chair to face me, a slight smile working its way onto her full lips. She really is the female version of Creed, his feminine other half. Ugh, I miss Creed. I miss all the boys actually. And that scares me.

They're all dating me together because they feel bad, because they know they messed up, but I can't ask that of them forever. Eventually, I'll have to choose. It's not fair to them if I don't, right?

“She wasn't the warmest character, I'll give you that,” Miranda hedges, chewing on her lower lip. While I'm dressed in ridiculous flannel pj's, the Cabot twin is decked out in a short, pink satin nightie. I'll admit it: I'm a little jealous. “But I wouldn't worry about her. Her or Harper. I've got your back; we'll kick both their asses next year.”

She stands up and moves over to sit on the edge of the bed next to me, reaching out to put my face between her hands. I swear, she smells like strawberries and vanilla. It's comforting somehow.

“One year left, and we'll leave all these fuckers in the dust. Just one more year.”

“And then what?” I ask, feeling this strange pang inside my chest. When I first arrived at Burberry Preparatory Academy, I was excited for the years to come. Soon after, that excitement