In the Arms of the Elite (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #4) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,56

does is end up fluffing the red-orange bangs. “We had a huge blow-up fight, and I lost it. I got too high, too drunk, and I hit that dock on purpose.” My brows go up in surprise when Windsor’s voice colors with vitriol and old anger. “I did it on bloody purpose, and then I saw her, crushed and bleeding under some rubble. I …” He looks away, toward a group of giggling girls all dressed up like, well, you know how I feel about this word, but … slutty vampires. I mean, I only say that because they have thongs and fishnets on with their capes and teeth.

“Windsor,” I start, reaching out to take his hand. I almost expect him to pull away, but he doesn’t. Surprisingly, he lets me take it and give him a little squeeze.

“I haven’t been able to drive since. I just feel sick when my hands touch a wheel. Doesn’t matter if it’s a car, a boat, or a fucking bumper car.” He pulls his hand from mine. “So when I told you I was a bit of a wanker, I wasn’t lying. I’ve been awful, Marnye. I’ve done terrible, terrible things. If you were to look at me with a magnifying glass, you’d probably find Mr. Vanderbilt squeaky clean by comparison.” Windsor pulls his hand from mine, and steps out of the car before I get a chance to respond.

The haunted look in his eyes though, that sticks with me for the rest of the night.

We must look pretty fucking cool when we walk into that party together, dressed up like a royal procession with crowns and ballgowns, cravats and colorful coats with long, trailing tails for the boys. The crowd parts easily, leaving us a clear path past the slot machines, dry ice fog curling around our ankles.

Harper and her new friends are already there, Isabella still clinging faithfully by their side. They’re all in various types of animal costumes. Again, I don’t mean to use the word slutty, but …

They watch us we pass, heading for the drink station in a room that looks like it was probably once a diner or something. Now, vines curl through cracks in the walls, and the scattered pillar candles make it look extra spooky.

Miranda drifts off to find Jessie, Andrew does the same for Gary, and I’m left with the guys … and Lizzie.

Fucking Lizzie.

Is it terrible that I just want her to go away?

The boys get themselves drinks, either cans, bottles, or Solo cups with fancy cocktails like Windsor enjoys. I let them have fun with that, and even though I really liked the pot I tried at Zayd’s party, I decline the joint when he passes it to me.

I have other things to do here tonight.

There are students from every year, almost exclusively from Burberry Prep. The first and second years don’t remember what it was like when Harper and the boys ruled over the school with iron fists of cruelty, but they look at me like a member of the elite, all the same. I bet most of them went to the Burberry elementary and middle school campuses which aren’t far from ours; they probably know all the goings on at the high school from older siblings and online gossip.

The guys don’t ask where I’m going, but they do sort of trail behind me in a procession. I don’t admit to them how much I like that.

Instead, I wait for the Harpies and their Company thugs (Jalen was the last original male Blueblood left, and now he’s gone, too, so it’s all new guys) to settle into one corner of the lounge with their drinks, some cards, and those awful, awful knuckle bones.

“Deal a hand, du Pont,” I tell her, sweeping my dress under my thighs and taking a seat at the table. Harper narrows her eyes on me, sitting on some fourth year’s lap in her pink tights and furry kitty paws. “Because I’m going to wipe the floor with you.”

She laughs at me and sits up, still perched on the company asshole’s lap.

“Really, Working Girl? You want to make a bet with me?”

“If I win, you’re to stop associating with Isabella Carmichael, and you’re not to tell a soul about her father.”

“Which one: the real or the fake?” Harper quips, and Becky giggles, that horrible hyena laugh I hated from moment one. I ignore her. I started with a big list. It’s much, much smaller now. It’s just a