The Envy of Idols (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #3) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,21

their way straight over to Ben.

“What was you said?” Windsor asks, drawing my attention away from the spectacle and back to him. “Hang them with their own rope?” The detectives—because that must be what they are—start talking to Ben. In the meantime, several other cars and vans pull up, and out climb news reporters with cameras rolling.

“Hang them with their own rope,” I repeat in awe, as Windsor grins and taps his fingers against the side of his glass.

“Well, I may have called several news stations and let on that Ben Thresher, son of the CEO of Thresher Meats was being hauled in for sexual assault.” Windsor shrugs his shoulders and gives me this wicked little smile. “That was my special, little touch. Well, that and I've guaranteed he won't be paying off or intimidating the girl he assaulted. She's safe, and well-taken care of.”

“He hurt another girl?” I ask, and the idea is just too terrible to put much thought to. Windsor nods and looks me straight in the eye.

“I didn't make that up; I wouldn't make that up. Look, there, milady, I'm learning from you.” Windsor grins and grabs a pair of hor d'oeuvres off of a passing tray. “Mini beef wellington?” He holds it out to me, but I'm locked in place, watching as Ben is dragged from the party in handcuffs.

“How on earth did you find out about that?” Tristan asks, turning to look at Windsor. The prince stops smiling, setting the beef wellingtons on a plate that's been abandoned on a nearby table. He wipes his hand on his shorts and stares Tristan down.

“I have my ways, Mr. Vanderbilt. If there are skeletons in the closet, I'll find them.” Windsor's eyes track across the group as Zayd makes his way over to us, pausing as he senses the tension in our little gathering. “That goes for everyone here: if there's something you want to confess, I suggest you do it before it's too late.”

I shiver.

Windsor York is scary.

No, not just scary, he's terrifying.

At least he’s on my side.

Summer back home with Dad is much less eventful than my single week in the Hamptons. I only just barely glimpsed what next year’s going to be like and already, I’m gearing up for all-out war.

“You okay, Marnye-bear?” Charlie asks, reeling in his line. We’re sitting on the bank of a local fishing spot, pretending like we actually have the skills to catch something. Neither of us has had a single bite, and I know that this pond is stocked once a week with all sorts of fish. Must just be our total lack of experience showing.

“I’m great,” I respond, feeling butterflies take over my stomach when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Every time I hear it make a sound, I get that sensation. Maybe because since I’ve left the Hamptons, I’ve had no shortage of messages. From Miranda, from Andrew, from Lizzie.

And from all five guys: Windsor, Zack, Creed, Zayd, and even Tristan.

“You sure?” Dad asks, setting his rod aside and opening his cooler. He pulls out a pair of sodas for the both of us, and I smile. In the past, he might’ve gone for a beer and tried to justify it to me. Just this one, Marnye, and no more. Even if he kept his promise for that single day, by the end of the week he’d be hammered. He’s really been making an honest effort. “You seem a little distant.”

“There’s just … I’m nervous about school starting next month.” And by next month, I mean in a week. My stomach flip-flops, and I exhale sharply. My birthday’s coming up, too, on the 5th of September. I’ll be seventeen, and a third year at Burberry Preparatory Academy. It’s all going by so fast, I’m almost afraid to see what happens when it ends.

“You seem to have a lot of new friends,” Dad hedges, fishing for information. He’s about as successful at that as he is at catching fish. I smile, and tuck some hair behind my ear. I’ve let it grow out a little bit, but it’s still short, still rose-gold. It’s sort of my signature color now. My fingers stray to the tattoo on my hip, pressing into my pelvic bone for comfort. I will not let the Infinity Club beat me.

“They’re just friends,” I repeat with a grin, turning to look at him. We’re so much alike: same brown eyes, same brunette hair (before mine was dyed), same full upper lip with