In the Arms of the Elite

by Stunich, C. M.

  Windsor York tastes like sweet dessert wine, his tongue edging my lips, tasting me like a fine chardonnay before he even really takes a sip. His tongue moves slowly against mine, like he’s trying to draw out all the flavor. Without meaning to, my hands pull the buttons on his shirt apart, palms pressing flat against the planes of his chest.

  “Think about my offer,” he whispers, one hand sliding up my waist to cup my breast through my shirt. He kneads the flesh, encouraging my chest to lift into his hand, offering myself up to him. “But also, think about everyone’s motives. Nobody is fully selfless at any given time. Think about my offer, too, and why I made it.”

  Wind releases me and pushes off the wall, stalking off outside. For a moment there, I have to remind myself how to breathe. When I follow after him, I see him moving between the garden house and a large barn, hopping a low fence, and moving over to a black horse.

  He strokes its neck for a moment, and then grabs a handful of mane, mounting it and then quite literally riding off into the sunset.

  He certainly is the epitome of charming prince, isn’t he?

  Only … his horse is black, not white.

  Maybe that’s a telltale sign right there?

  The next morning, Windsor and I have breakfast on the deck with Alex and Charlie before the princess excuses herself for a trip into town. Dad and I play a few rounds of chess before he gets tired again, and decides to settle down with a book.

  I notice he opens to the back and reads the ending first.

  Chills creep over me from head to toe as I watch him, smiling privately to himself before he flips back to the first page again.

  “He’s reading the last page first, so he’ll know how it ends in case he …” I trail off, pausing behind Windsor as he leads me to the stables to pick a horse. We’re going riding today which makes me a little nervous. I think I rode a pony at someone’s birthday party once when I was seven, but that’s as far as my experience goes.

  He looks back at me, and then turns fully around, dust settling around his riding boots.

  “Sometimes, we take pleasure in whatever we can. Nobody knows how much time they have left, Marnye. Either of us could fall off one of these horses and die today. Who says Charlie has less time left than anyone else? Let the man read his ending, and don’t let yourself fall victim to pity. He doesn’t want that from you.”

  “How do you know that?” I snap back at him, raking my fingers through my rose-gold hair. It’s a bit longer now, and it’s starting to curl like Windsor’s does, right on the top.

  “Because he loves you. Pity does nothing for the one being pitied. It’s an empathetic agony to the one doing the pitying. Now, come and see what I’ve got for you.” Wind turns around as my cheeks flush, and I exhale, following after him and finding a beautiful … rose-gold horse in the barn.

  “Is this a horse to match the Maserati, Windsor? Because if it is, then I’m declining.”

  He laughs at me, and strokes the nose of the beautiful animal as it lifts its head over the edge of the stall door to look at us with big, trusting brown eyes.

  “No, I’m afraid it’s not. This is my mother’s mare. Her coloring is called amber champagne, but I thought you might like her.” He pats the horse, and then leads her out of the stall and outside where his own shiny black horse from yesterday is waiting.

  There’s a set of steps for me to use to get on the horse’s back, the smell of the leather saddle in the hot sun reminding me of Windsor’s own leather polish and daffodil scent. He walks me around the paddock for a while and we start our lessons. Once I’ve figured out how to actually ride the damn thing without falling off, we go for a short trot around the property, sun streaming across our backs.

  We get back to the house in time for lunch, and I find that my thighs are unbelievably sore.

  “Happens to all first-time riders,” Wind tells me cheerily (and maybe with a touch of perv, too), letting my dad win at checkers. I take notice of that because I know for a fact that he hates to lose. Despises it. It brings out that awful darkness inside of him.

  “Thanks for telling me that now,” I grumble, but it’s hard to stay mad when I’ve got an entire winery to myself, including a pool and hot tub in the back. It’s a ‘natural’ pool meaning there’s foliage around the edges, rock formations, and even waterfalls. It almost looks like part of the landscape.

  Dad, Wind, and I spend most of the afternoon in the water and then use up the rest of the evening watching movies in the garden house.

  It’s not until the next morning that everyone else shows up.

  Zack is the first to get there, parking his orange sportscar in the small dirt courtyard between the two houses and lifting his shades up to examine the guesthouse.

  “You led me to believe this was a shack,” he says when Windsor pauses next to the car and folds his arms over his chest. Zack gets a frisking like everybody else from one of the security guards before his car is valeted away to a spot up the hill, out of sight and out of mind.

  “Isn’t that the damnedest thing?” Windsor asks, shrugging his shoulders. He pauses at the sound of Alexandra’s voice and then sighs. “Excuse me a moment.” As he passes me by, Wind teases his fingers along my bare arm, and I shiver.

  Zack notices, his dark eyes taking me in appreciatively. I’ve got on a short yellow sundress with a sweetheart neckline. It’s made of a soft jersey fabric, and it’s beyond comfy. My only issue with it is that it’s a bit short when the wind blows.

  “Hey,” he says, and the rough grumble of his voice makes it seem ten degrees hotter out than it is. “I missed you.”

  “Did you?” I quip, and his full, lush mouth curves into a smile. I’ve forgiven him for the Jalen incident. We all make mistakes, surely. But … I can’t stop thinking about what he said, about his father and grandfather. They want him with someone who has better breeding, more money. Surely I’m none of those things. And Zack and I, we have a tumultuous history. Yet when I look up at him and into his brown eyes, I feel like a woman who’s wrangled herself a bear. He has teeth, but they’re not for biting me.

  “I told you, Marnye, I love you.” He says it so plainly that I can’t help but blush. It’s just sitting there between us, this big statement of emotion. He’s the only one that’s said it to me outright like that. The only one. Zayd came close, but then he followed it up with yeah, pretty much and sort of blew the moment.

  We don’t get a chance to carry the conversation any further because another car is on its way up the driveway, a blue Jaguar convertible with the top rolled down and Zayd’s tattooed arm waving at us from inside. He parks, and gets what I’d really consider a triple frisking before security is satisfied.

  “They just profiled me,” he grumbles, but then, he’s a straight, white male so lucky him if this is the first time that’s ever happened. Zayd flashes a grin and looks around the place, whistling under his breath. “This looks like some serious postcard shit.” He pauses and glances down at me, his hair still colored with that gorgeous sea green. I may or may not have asked him to leave it that color for the time being … “Hey, did you and Wind fuck yet?” he asks, and the blatant way he stares into my eyes with his emerald green ones makes me choke.

  “Seriously, Kaiser?” Zack scowls, but Zayd ignores him, putting his hands on his hips.

  “I’m just saying, it’ll be kind of hard to pick between us unless you’ve fucked us all. Chemistry is a huge part of like, love and all that romantic shit.” He lights up a cigarette as Zack scowls, and I try to remember how to form actual words with my mouth.

  “You want me to fuck Windsor and Tristan?” I ask, and both boys exchange a look before glancing over at me.

  “You haven’t fucked Tristan yet?” Zayd clarifies, and I give him a look.

  “I’ve been honest with you guys every step of the way, whether it’s just kissing or … something more. Don’t you think I’d have told if you that’d happened yet?”

  “Holy hell i
n a handbasket,” Zayd murmurs, taking a drag on the cigarette. It smells like cloves, and I frown. Sure, it smells good, compared to a normal cigarette, but those things are twice as bad. I want him to quit. Maybe, if I picked him, that’d be the first thing I asked … But then I remember that I picked Zayd once before, and I didn’t like the way it felt. Not that picking him felt wrong, but that not picking Creed and Tristan made me squirm. “The only three girls Tristan ever spent time with that he didn’t fuck are …” Zayd holds up a tattooed hand and ticks off fingers. “Miranda, Harper, and Lizzie. The first because, you know, there’s the whole gay thing. The second, because he’s hated her fucking guts since, like, kindergarten, and the third—”

  “Wait, what?” I ask, as Zayd turns his green eyes over to me.

  “Wait, what, what?” he asks, raising his dark brows.

  “Lizzie and Tristan never …” Zayd snorts and shakes his head.

  “Nope. Never. I think … he liked her too much, maybe?”

  A cold wave of jealousy rolls over me, and I have to count my breaths to get in control of my emotions again. I’m having an irrational reaction to that news. Shouldn’t I be happy that they’ve never slept together? But yet … Zayd is right.

  My heart pounds as my mind replays Tristan’s words over and over again. “Because I use sex like a weapon. I won't wield it against you.” I’m not sure if I’m relieved that he didn’t sleep with Lizzie … or terrified.

  “Come on, Charity, don’t stress,” Zayd says, ashing his cigarette and flicking it expertly into an empty metal bucket near the door. He scoops me up in his arms, the smell of sage and tobacco wafting around me. “If Tristan’s too stupid to take you seriously, then dump him.” He gestures to the side with his chin. “I’ve got something for you in my pocket.”

  I reach down and accidentally cup his ass while I’m looking for the pocket opening, and Zayd whistles.

  “It was an accident,” I sputter, but he gives me this panty-melting look with half-lidded eyes and a sideways smirk.

  “Sure it was. But hey, consent is sexy, and I consent all the fucking way for you to grab my ass.” I roll my eyes at him, and pull out the piece of paper, unfolding it and quickly scanning over the words. It’s his test results, just like Zack’s. “Zayd and Tristan heard me talking about having tests done, and they fucking copied me.” I remember hearing him say that, and I smile.

  Happily, Zayd Kaiser is very much clean and healthy.

  “Thank you, Zayd,” I say honestly, and then laugh as he carries me into the house and kisses me smack on the lips. Of course, Dad just happens to be standing there when he does it, right next to Windsor.

  “Marnye Elizabeth,” he breathes, his face a mask of horror. Because of Jennifer, I know how he feels about cheating, so I push away from Zayd and make him set me on my feet, so I can explain.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” I breathe as Zack comes to a stop behind me. I’ve got both palms up in defense. “Dad, I wouldn’t … you know how I feel about cheaters.”

  “You and Windsor broke up?” he asks, glancing over at the prince. Wind raises one brow and looks back at Charlie before turning to me with a slight smile. He can’t wait to hear me fumble my way through this one.

  Okay, Marnye, you’ve got this. Dad is sick, but he’s not stupid. You can trust him with this.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Andrew says, appearing next to me with his chestnut hair buzzed short, a white polo shirt on over a pair of light colored jeans. He smiles at me, and I feel suddenly so much better to have a friend around who I’m not romantically involved with. He leans in close and whispers in my ear. “If I can tell my parents that I’m gay, you can so do this. It’s easy; you got this.”

  Andrew moves into the kitchen and reaches for the wine before he realizes that he’s not exactly twenty-one.

  “Oh, son, I know you kids all drink,” Dad says with a slight smile. “A glass of chardonnay isn’t going to kill you. Just don’t become an alcoholic like me.”

  “Dad!” I choke out as Zack steps forward to stand by my side.

  “Your daughter doesn’t drink, not at all,” Zack says, and Charlie’s smile gets just a bit sadder.

  “She’s always been one to make prudent choices. Okay, Marnye, tell me what’s going on.”

  “I’m … dating five guys,” I say, and what’s left of Dad’s eyebrows goes up. Dad … He glances over at Andrew, and he raises his own hands in defense.

  “Oh, no, not me. Definitely not me. I’m more likely to date five guys than your daughter—not that she isn’t fabulous, just …” He shrugs and takes a drink of his wine. I need to know the whole coming out story, that is, if he wants to tell me. I’m going to at least ask. Knowing Miranda she’ll probably hound him relentlessly.

  “So,” Charlie starts, looking at Windsor then Zack then Zayd … “These guys and … the Cabot boy, and …”

  “And me,” Tristan says, stepping into the room in black shorts, a loose black shirt, and sandals. He doesn’t bother to take off his sunglasses, but he does at least attempt some semblance of a smile.

  “You boys …” Dad starts, looking like he’s stuck halfway between fainting and thanking me for being honest. “I didn’t raise my daughter to date bullies.”

  Tristan pushes his shades up into his raven dark hair, and I see a black eye there that he most definitely did not have when we left the academy campus on Friday.

  “No, I’m sure you didn’t, Mr. Reed, but if you can forgive me for speaking frankly, I’d like to reassure you that your daughter not only handled herself in a matter befitting a lady, but she also kicked our asses before she forgave us.” He tucks his sunglasses into his pocket.

  “Marnye has a big heart; she forgives too easily,” Charlie says, studying the group of them. “I swear, if you’re playing some sort of long game …”

  “Long game?” Zack ask, and Dad glances his way.

  A shock of adrenaline courses through me, and I lick my lips. If I said I hadn’t at least considered that possibility, I’d be lying. But … no. Not with Windsor around. Zack either, for that matter.

  “If those three pull something during graduation the way they did at the end of first year, I swear to God, I’ll kill them all and put them in the ground. What do I have to lose? I’m dying anyway.”

  “Dad!” I choke out, this dark thundercloud settling over me. I know he’s trying to use dark humor to cope, but shit, it hurts. It hurts so damn bad that I can’t even let myself consider it, not right now, not when he’s still here to smile at me.

  “Seriously though, what’s the worst that could happen: life in prison?” Charlie chuckles, but I can’t laugh at stuff like that, not right now. “I mean it though, you boys better not be screwing around with my Marnye-bear.”

  “Sir,” Zayd says, shaking out his shoulders and exhaling. “I understand your concern, but I want you to know that … I’m in love with your daughter.” He grits his teeth, like this is one of the hardest things he’s ever done. “I have been since Halloween of first year, I just … we’re all mixed up in a bunch of bullshit.”

  Holy fuck, did Zayd Kaiser just announce his love for me? And in front of my dad, too? I’m not sure if I should swoon or maybe just curl up and die of embarrassment.

  “But we’re trying to get out of it,” Zack adds, looking at Charlie. “I won’t let anything like what happened during first year happen again. I’m in love with your daughter, too, and … I can never say enough about how sorry I am over what occurred in middle school. I’m willing to spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it.”

  Aaaand, another surge of emotion I don’t know what to do with. It’s like there’s a rainbow inside of me, an emotion for every color, all blending together. I’m just not sure what’s waiting for me at the end of it.

  “I’d also like to take this moment to profess my love,” Windsor says, putting his palm over his heart and lifting his chin. “It’s a royal proclamation.”

 
I snort, but it’s all nervous laughter, clapping my hand over my mouth.

  The sound of scrambling comes from outside, and I glance over my shoulder to see Creed shoving Miranda out of the way. He comes in panting, two security guards grabbing onto his shoulders.

  “Let him go; he’s harmless,” Windsor instructs, as the beautiful blond-haired, blue-eyed Cabot boy huffs and puffs, looking between me and Dad a few times before he steps forward and shoves Zayd aside. Zayd sneers at him, but doesn’t say anything.

  “I love your daughter, too,” he says, and I swear, if there was a single spot on my body that wasn’t red, it would be now.

  “Guys,” I start, as Tristan turns away suddenly, closing his eyes. He’s the only one who’s not going to say it, isn’t he? “You don’t have to say that.”

  “It’s the truth,” Creed says, pushing blond hair off his forehead. “It’s … I’ve felt this way for a while.” Miranda comes up to stand on my other side, giving me a sympathetic sort of look. At least Lizzie’s not here to witness the whole thing, right?

  “Are you happy, Marnye?” Dad asks, and I nod once, briskly but determinedly.

  I mean, I am, but I’m not. I need you here to walk me down the aisle one day, Charlie. Please, please, please stick around for that.

  “I am.”

  “Okay then. Okay. My daughter has … five boyfriends.” He curses under his breath and shakes his head. “I’ll be damned.”

  He wanders out to the porch, pops the top of one of his fancy apple ciders, and looks out at the vineyard.

  “Well, that wasn’t embarrassing at all,” I whisper as Miranda gives me a huge hug.

  “Come on, you can help me unpack my things and Andrew can tell you allll about his coming out story …”

  Andrew grabs the wine, a pair of glasses, and a soda that he tosses over to me.

  The boys watch us walk out, but they know better than to follow.

  I need a minute.

  How the hell am I supposed to choose now?

  Fuck you, love. Like, seriously, fuck you.