In the Arms of the Elite (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #4) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,98
eyes.
“Not yet,” he whispers finally, and I feel this huge surge of relief as I throw my arms around his neck.
I know then an undeniable truth: I will not be able to give up Tristan Vanderbilt at the end of the year.
I don’t know exactly what that means overall, only that I can’t not have him.
I can’t.
“But I have to, Marnye. I’ll do anything to keep you safe. Even stick my dick in some pathetic waste of life who can’t take a hint. I’m done with you, Lizzie. Done. I was done with you the first moment I laid eyes on Marnye.”
“Stop,” I whisper, putting my hand over his lips—lips that belong, undeniably, to me—and turning to glance over my shoulder. Lizzie is sobbing now, sinking to the floor in her robe and then just sitting there, all alone while the rest of us look on.
I feel sorry for her in that moment, I really, really do.
Miranda kneels down beside her and puts a hand on one of Lizzie’s shoulders. Her face is still tight and angry, but maybe like me, she can see how weak Lizzie Walton really is on the inside. Rule Six: Know when enough is enough.
“Why the fuck are you comforting her?” Creed demands, moving over to stand beside his sister. His blue eyes are cold and cruel and half-lidded. “She’s been against us from moment one. Fuck the bitch.”
“Creed, that’s enough,” Miranda says. “Yes, she was wrong, but … she’s also just confused and stupid and … in love with someone she can’t ever have. That shit drives people crazy.” A split-second later, Myron Talbot comes storming in the door, his face a mask of wild fury.
“Did you sleep with her?” he asks, looking at his best friend like he’d dismember him if the answer were yes. “Did you?!”
“No.” Tristan’s voice is a single, soft note, and then he just collapses, sitting down on the kitchen floor. I sit beside him and throw my arms around his neck, possessive as fuck.
“Thank god,” Myron grumbles, moving over to kneel down in front of Lizzie. “You do not hide things from me. You don’t lie.”
“Myron, I love him.”
“So what?” Myron hisses, and I realize that while my boys might be threaded through with cruelty, this man is literally made of it. “He’s in love with Marnye. And I’m in love with you.” He cups the side of her face, but she looks away sharply and refuses to make eye contact.
Myron stands up and pulls Lizzie along with him, swinging her into his arms.
“You two make a perfect couple—you can match each other’s bullshit,” Creed snaps, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Careful. I don’t like you. I don’t like your girlfriend either. The only people in this room I care about are Tristan, and this girl here.” He lifts her up, but Lizzie just buries her face against his neck. “Consider your debt fulfilled,” Myron tells Tristan, glancing his way. “An old favor from a friend.”
“What do you want in return, Myron?” Tristan asks, sounding weary as hell. “You always want something in return.”
Myron grins, flashing his teeth.
“Blood,” he says, and I shiver all over. “I want blood.”
I can’t seem to extricate myself from Tristan’s lap. I’m shaking too hard, thinking about him sleeping with Lizzie in some misguided attempt to save me.
“You scared me so bad,” I whisper, nuzzling against him as Windsor makes us all tea, and Zayd sits in a chair with his head in his hands.
“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, Marnye. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“You’re all just trying to do your best to protect me,” I say, exhaling sharply. I can’t even begin to describe how relieved I am that I got here in time. And the Myron/Lizzie thing? Totally mind-blowing. But shit, I hope she falls in love with him and leaves Tristan the fuck alone. “But you guys need to start telling me shit, Infinity Club rules or no.”
“Sometimes breaking Club rules is a life or death sort of thing,” Zack says, exhaling and running his palm over his hair. He’s watching me cling to Tristan with a dark expression, like he thinks this is it, that I’ve made my decision.
I decide to address that, unhooking my arms from around Tristan’s neck and standing up. Miranda watches me, and then excuses herself, giving me a small peck on the cheek before she retreats out of the apartment, mouthing call me before she shuts the door.