The Envy of Idols (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #3) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,1
looks between the three of us. I know he senses the tension: Windsor is one smart cookie.
“How so?” Tristan asks, hands shaking. He’s avoiding the confrontation with Lizzie completely. “What has he done now?”
“He’s found a woman to pay his Infinity Club dues.” Tristan’s face hardens, but Windsor isn’t done. “Not yours though. Just his. He’s already started the rumor that he’s disowning you.” Anyone else might think that Tristan takes this news as smooth as could be. Hell, he looks almost bored. But I know better. There’s an almost imperceptible widening of his eyes, the barest clenching of fists.
“I see.” Tristan’s voice is as smooth as cognac, silky and dark and luxe. There’s so much pain hidden by it though. So much pain. Lizzie reaches for his hand, but he steps back and withdraws into himself. Hurt flashes across her gaze, but there’s no time to talk about it.
“I’ve paid it for you,” Windsor says, and this time, Tristan can’t hide his surprise. He lifts his gaze up in shock, and stares at the prince. Wind simply tucks his hands into his pockets and smiles. “Whatever my princess wants, she gets. And she doesn’t want you homeless and kicked out of Burberry Prep.” The prince saunters into the room, reaches out, and smooths a few wrinkles from Tristan’s shirt with his palm. “He pulled your tuition, too. But you already knew that, right?”
My eyes go wide, and I turn to Tristan in shock.
“You knew you weren’t coming back to Burberry next year, didn’t you?” I ask, but he won’t look at me. He’s still too focused on Windsor.
“I’ve paid that, too.” Wind pauses, sighs, and drops his hands back by his sides. “So … I guess Marnye isn’t the only charity case at the academy, now is she?” Windsor smiles, and it’s got that edge to it, the one that feels like a double-edged sword. Like a weapon. Sharp, smooth, deadly. It can protect … but it can also kill. “You can thank me later. For now, we have a Club meeting to attend.”
Windsor turns to me and puts his hands in a prayer position as Tristan turns away, storms off, and slams his bathroom door. Lizzie puts her face in her hand and says nothing.
“You, milady, will have to go. Miranda’s waiting outside for you. No non-Club members allowed.” He steps forward and pushes some hair off his forehead, making it stick up like it always does. His hazel eyes glitter as he reaches up to tangle his fingers in my rose-gold locks. It’s gotten so much longer now, but I think I might cut it short again. I like it that way; it feels bold.
“You’ll take care of Zayd, Creed, and Zack for me, right?” I ask, not that they really need taking care of but … it feels like Wind’s my backup, a silent shadow always there to defend me and mine. He makes me feel safe and protected. “You’ve already taken care of Tristan.” I pause and glance over at Lizzie, but she still has her head in her hand. When she turns and walks away, I let her go. Clearly, she needs a minute.
“I’ll take care of them,” Windsor says, and his word is always a promise, so I don’t press any further. Instead, I let him take me in his arms and kiss the corners of my mouth. It’s just a tease, a little taste that leaves me wanting more. “Miranda says she already called your dad, and he said it was fine if she crashed at your place for a few days.”
“And after that?” I ask, because I have no idea how long a real Infinity Club party lasts. I’ve seen the junior version, and they’re intense enough as it is.
“After that …” Windsor starts, just as the other three boys come in.
“Time to skedaddle, babe,” Zayd says, swallowing hard, wringing his inked hands. He’s nervous, too. That scares me. I don’t like the Infinity Club or what it stands for. Basically, it’s a bunch of rich bullies betting on who can make the world just a little more miserable for their own enjoyment.
“There’s a side entrance,” Creed says, and although he’s slouching lazily against the doorjamb, there’s a sharpness to him that says he’s ready to fight if necessary. “Through the ballroom. I’ll show you. I had Miranda move your car.”
I nod and move forward, pausing and shivering as Zack lays his letterman jacket over my shoulders, and presses a kiss