by Sofia Daniel
I breathed out a long breath, eyes scanning the splendor of the room. “I’ll do my best.”
Jackie clamped a hand on my shoulder and stared up at me, eyes laden with menace. “This is the groundbreaking story we’ve been waiting for. There’s more to International House than a few noisy louts. You must make Edward Mercia spill everything.”
“Right.” I gulped. She’d left unsaid the threat of Rudolph sending me to military school if I failed, but I was well aware of the consequences. Forcing a smile, I said, “Results or ruin.”
Jackie’s lined face split into a grin. “That’s the spirit. We’ve set up half our journalists to act as servers, and we’re expecting big things.”
My throat went dry. This was a lot of responsibility. “What if nobody comes?”
“We distributed fifty tickets to people from your school and a little over sixty to people who claim to be alumni. Each is likely to bring one or more guests. There’s also a few undercover agents we like to use for events like this. Focus on your boys, and we’ll take care of the rest.”
By the time the first few arrivals trickled in, the undercover reporters were already in place. Some were clad in black and white as servers, while the others wore fancy dress. Sergei arrived a couple of hours after the start with his full complement of bodyguards. When we hugged hello, I warned him to be careful with Andreo, because there were cameras everywhere. He kissed me on the cheek and thanked me for the heads up.
Sergei played popular tunes to get the party going. I stood by the piano, nursing a glass of tonic water that had been made to look like it contained gin. Strangely, for a bunch of people who wrangled their invitations by claiming to know me, very few approached to say hello.
Andreo stood by my side. “Sergei tells me you are hurting those boys who betrayed you. Are you tempted to forgive them?”
My lips quirked into a smile. “Sometimes I have a great evening with one of them, then he says something that reminds me he hasn’t changed and would betray me in a heartbeat if it benefitted them.”
“They seemed like conceited brats to me.”
I giggled into my drink. Andreo had kicked them out of the Royal Academy charity ball and had probably heard an earful of haughty objections. The next time I looked up to survey the guests, I found the three of them on the other side of the room, holding champagne flutes and glaring in my direction. The arrogant fucks probably thought I was responsible for their evening’s entertainment, even though they had invited themselves to the party.
Edward wore a blue frock coat with white breeches, looking like the beast after Belle had broken the curse, and Blake wore the dark tunic and skirt of a gladiator, which showed off his muscular thighs and arms. I couldn’t work out whether Henry had come as a fireman or a stripper dressed as a fireman, as he didn’t wear a shirt under his jacket, revealing prominent pecs and tight abs.
I raised my glass and gave them my widest smile. They mirrored the movement but kept their faces stony, probably in a bad mood because I was still with Sergei.
“How are you doing it?” asked Andreo. “Divide and conquer?”
I shot Sergei an adoring look. “Their friendships are too deep for a tactic like that. I’m getting to know them each and finding out what will hurt them most.”
“Aim for the heart, not the wallet or the reputation. Betrayal from someone you care about hurts the most.”
I gulped a mouthful of lemony tonic water and grimaced. It was as though Andreo could read my mind. Nothing had hurt me more than knowing they had kept me close to secure their secret, never confided the reason why I shouldn’t call the police, and then betrayed me when I did. From what I could glean from our interactions, they still kept me close so I wouldn’t blurt out the truth to Henry’s parents, and because they were fascinated by the idea of a foursome.
So far, only Blake had suffered my wrath and he had emerged from it a little battered but unscathed. Jackie was right. To produce results, I would step up my game.
While I stood by the piano, playing the role of the devoted fiancée, the triumvirate held court on a gold-embroidered, antique sofa held up by ornate, clawed feet. People swarmed around them as though they were the hosts of the party. I glanced around the room for more familiar faces and found Mr. Frost, dressed like Charlie Chaplin, slipping a small envelope to a young man I didn’t recognize. He wore an academy uniform a couple of sizes too small, and I guessed he was one of the alumni who had emailed for an invitation.
Sergei finished playing to loud applause, and another pianist took over. He wrapped both arms around me and murmured, “Since this place is unsafe for us to relax, I will go home.”
“Alright.” I gazed into his dark eyes. “I’ll try to stop by and see you in London before I leave.”
He drew back. “You are going back?”
“My stepfather promised to pay for a school of my choosing if I survived the winter term at Mercia Academy. I want to return to New York.”
He grinned. “You are thriving!”
Sergei gave me another hug goodbye and left with Andreo and his bodyguards. Their absence as a buffer between myself and my task for the evening sent a ripple of anxiety through my gut. The time for pretending to be his adoring fiancée was over. It was time to get results.
A hand slipped around my waist, and Blake’s sandalwood scent engulfed my senses. “Why did he leave?”
I stepped away. “Not here.”
“Where?”
“Follow me.” Without looking at him, I crossed the room, passing the army of fake waiters pressing glasses of champagne into the hands of increasingly drunk guests. Everybody in the room was a sixth former and above the drinking age for the United Kingdom. I had made sure not to hand out invitations to younger students, and Jackie had checked the background of each person who had requested an invitation online.
When I reached the bookshelf, Blake wrapped his arms around the waist of my bodice and murmured, “You look gorgeous tonight.”
My laugh was low and throaty. “I could say the same for you.”
“Why did Bachmann leave?” He peppered my neck with kisses.
A pleasant shudder ran down my spine. “I told you. We’re cooling things off.” I fumbled with the lever of the bookshelf’s secret door. Now was the time for me to get the facts on International House. “Where are the others?”
“Right behind Blake,” said Henry.
“What are you doing?” asked Edward from further down the hallway.
“One second…” I pulled up the lever, and the door clicked open. “Get inside.”
Blake swept past me and turned in a slow circle. Edward joined straight after, and Henry wrapped his arms around my waist and walked me inside. He shut the door with a click and ran his hands up and down my corset.
“We’ve decided,” Henry murmured into my ear. “Tonight’s the night you lose your virginity.”
I giggled. “Oh? Which one of you is planning to penetrate me first?”
“Blake,” said Edward with a chuckle. “He’s the smallest and can ease you in.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Blake snapped. “Edward’s going in first. He’s the one they call mushroom-man.”
I would have doubled over with laughter if my corset wasn’t holding me upright. With my wig and little mask, I could appear on camera, and no one would know my identity.
I turned to face Henry, who still had his arms wrapped around my waist. “How about you?”
“If you don’t mind, I could go first and break you in nice and gently for Blake and Edward.” He pressed his lips onto mine, tasting of mint and champagne.
I stepped away from his embrace. “How generous. But I’m not nearly drunk enough to lose my virginity to three men.”
“We brought absinthe,” said Blake. “One hundred milligrams of thujone. Guaranteed to melt your inhibitions along with your pesky hymen.”
My eyes widened. Absinthe that strong wasn’t even sold in the UK. This would be perfect fo
r making them loosen up. “You remembered.”
“Paul did.” Edward pulled the small bottle of fluorescent liquid out of his jacket pocket.
I pointed at the wooden cabinet on the wall. “There’s plenty of champagne in there.”
“How did you manage to get a room like this?” asked Blake.
“The host gave it to Sergei,” the lie slipped from my lips like butter. “But when I told him I wasn’t ready to spend the night with him, he decided to leave.”
Henry squeezed me tighter and pressed a kiss on my temple. “You made the right choice.”
Blake opened the fridge, pulled out two bottles of champagne, and handed one to Edward. With the greatest of care and very little spillage, they popped the corks and drank straight from the bottle. While the triumvirate downed their champagne in long, deep drags, I took tiny sips to coat my lips, but nowhere near enough to even get tipsy.
After they’d nearly finished their bottles, Henry spun me around and kissed me on the lips. Before he could slip me his tongue, Blake twisted me toward him and gave me a drunken, sloppy kiss. I placed my hands on his chest to give him a shove, but Henry wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me off my feet. “Come on, virgin. Let’s deflower you.”
I threw my head back and laughed. Maybe I’d wait a little before bringing up International House. “Don’t I get a say in this matter?”
“Only on the position.” Blake scrambled onto the mattress. “Bring her here.”
I rolled my eyes and let Henry place me smack in the middle of the bed. Then he crawled over and fumbled at my waist. “How do I take it off?”
“Roll her onto her front,” said Blake.
I raised a hand and slurred my voice. “Here’s where I exercise my choice over positions. I want to lie on my back, propped up with pillows, while you two take turns kissing me until I beg for it.”
Blake growled. “Begging sounds good.”
Henry’s lips descended onto mine in an impatient kiss of teeth and tongue that sent jolts of excitement down my body. Blake kissed a trail down my neck, along my collar bone and over the swell of my breasts. I squeezed my legs together and groaned. Even sloppily drunk, the boy knew what to do with his lips.
Henry’s fingers circled my right breast, moving over bare skin and the part of my chest encased within the bodice. His tongue slid against mine in a series of caresses that made me arch my back and grab at his broad shoulders. I’d barely had anything to drink, but the pulse between my legs pounded in time with my heart, and slickness gathered in my panties.
If I didn’t slow down, I might lose control and show them how to unfasten my gown. Then we’d all get too distracted to talk about International House, and I would fail my assignment. I pushed away considerations of Rudolph’s retribution. Thoughts about him didn’t belong in any kind of boudoir.
I broke away from henry’s lips and gasped. “Thirsty.”
Blake reached for the champagne, but I said, “Absinthe.” I needed to get them so drunk, they couldn’t function. Then they would spill their guts and tell me everything Jackie needed to know. Clicking my fingers, I said in my most commanding voice, “Bring it here.”
Edward appeared from behind the curtain and produced the opened bottle. He gulped a mouthful and passed it to Blake, who took a swig and passed it to me.
I let the tiniest of splashes land between my lips, then I stuck out my tongue. “Bleurgh! It doesn’t taste right.”
Henry took a long sip, grimaced and handed it to me. “It’s fine.”
I passed it to Blake. “What do you think?”
He took another sip. “Aniseed and licorice. What were you expecting?”
“You try it,” I said to Edward who perched on the edge of the bed by our feet.
He reached down, tasted it and shrugged. “Maybe champagne’s more to your liking.”
By the time the boys finished half the small bottle of absinthe and the two bottles of champagne, their eyes glazed, but Henry and Blake still pawed at my bodice and made noises about deflowering me. They took turns landing increasingly sloppy kisses on my lips, but I kept staring at Edward, who didn’t move any closer to us on the mattress.
A frustrated breath huffed out of my nostrils. Why wasn’t he loosening up? I shoved Blake out of the way and pushed myself up on my elbows. “Edward, are you alright?”
“Ignore him.” Henry pulled me back down. “He’s melancholy tonight.”
Edward ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe I shouldn’t have had so much to drink. Sometimes, I forget alcohol is a depressant.”
The boys each nuzzled at my neck, and I pushed myself onto my knees and crawled at the foot of the bed where Edward sat.
“What about us?” Henry slurred.
“Kiss Blake for a minute.” I pressed my chest against Edward’s back and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “I’m going to see if I can do something about his melancholy.”
Edward tilted his head and smiled. “Sorry.”
“What for?”
“You were probably looking forward to this party, and I’m too preoccupied.”
Behind us, someone groaned. I glanced over my shoulder to find Henry lying on top of Blake and kissing the life out of him. I blinked at the sight, not quite believing they had taken my suggestion so seriously.
“Help me off the bed,” I said. “This petticoat is awkward.”
Blake held my waist with both hands, lifted me off the bed and set me on my feet. “Let’s get some fresh air.”
I glanced at the two drunken boys kissing on the bed. Henry’s fireman jacket had slipped over his shoulders, revealing his broad, muscular back. The pulse between my legs reverberated, sending a shockwave of arousal through my core. Blake moaned and cupped Henry’s muscular ass with both hands.
My tongue darted out to lick my lips. “Will they be alright?”
Edward wrapped an arm around my waist and guided me toward the balcony. On the way, he picked up another bottle of champagne. “Blake’s an equal-opportunity slut, and Henry’s always happy to go along for the ride. They’ll be fine.”
Blake’s hand slipped under the waistband Henry’s pants, further piquing my interest. Instead of staying to gape, I grabbed a blanket at the foot of the bed and followed Edward toward the balcony. If there was an opportunity to hear about International House, I had to take it. Jackie’s words about the unsavory characters being in proximity to children were ominous. She and Rudolph wouldn’t forgive me if I turned down the opportunity for a huge scoop to watch two gorgeous boys make out.
Besides, they were doing it in front of one of the cameras, the last place I wanted to get down and dirty.
Chapter 12
The crisp air gave me a shock as I stepped through the balcony doors, and the view of the river caused a breath to catch in the back of my throat. On one side of the Thames, the London Eye glowed cornflower blue. Opposite and a little downstream, stood Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, illuminated with yellow light. Maybe the few scraps of alcohol I’d imbibed had gotten to my head, but the entire city looked magical.
Perhaps some of the magic might rub off on Edward, and he would give me the information I needed to satisfy Jackie’s fascination with International House.
Edward uncorked the champagne bottle with a soft pop and threw the cork into the night.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I don’t want to burden you with my problems.” He leaned against the edge of the balcony and stared down at a spot on the tiled floor.
I stepped forward but kept a distance of about three feet so as not to crowd him. Trying to keep the eagerness out of my voice, I said, “Maybe there’s something I can do to help.”
“It’s doubtful.” He took several long drags of the sparkling beverage and handed me the bottle.
“Get it off your chest.” I let a thimbleful bubble onto my tongue. “It’s clearly bothering you.”
The faint sound of a foghorn caught my attentio
n, and I glanced down into the Thames. A cruise boat, lit up by hundreds of multi-colored lightbulbs, made its slow journey through the river. It was probably filled with party-goers.
After a moment, Edward sighed. “My father has a condition which is worsening, and we’re having trouble with round-the-clock care.”
I held my breath. Henry had mentioned the duke’s decline while we were in that dingy room, but so much had happened since then, I wasn’t sure if I correctly remembered the details. “Your butler?”
“Gregson is too old, and Father has young-onset dementia. He needs a carer young and strong enough to keep up with him.”
“Oh.” I tried to picture Dad in that situation, but the image was too painful. With his mother deceased, the pressure on Edward had to be tremendous. I took a swig of champagne and handed it back. “I’m so sorry.”
“So am I.” He backed away, leaned against one of the balcony rails and drank a few gulps. Compared to the others, he was relatively sober. I wondered if he’d drunk enough of that absinthe.
“Is he in an institution?”
Edward raised his head, giving me the strangest look as though I’d said something ridiculous. I went over what I had asked. Since Edward was sixteen or seventeen and in full-time education with only an elderly butler at home, it made sense that the Duke of Mercia might go to a facility that could give him the treatment he needed.
After several moments, he said, “We’re taking care of him at home.”
“You and Gregson?”
“And a male nurse Henry was kind enough to hire.” He gulped down several mouthfuls.
I gasped, just as a cold breeze blew across the balcony, sending a chill running down my back. “Wait! That’s what you did with the ransom money?”
Edward let out a long, weary sigh. “We’re in a similar situation to the Underwoods. Father made some very poor business decisions before his diagnosis. The accountant is picking through the ledgers and trying to decipher what exactly Father has done, but it’s taking time.”
Without meaning to, my gaze flickered to the direction of the camera, and I pulled it back to my lap. All this time, I had thought the boys wanted a bit of spending money. But they had staged the kidnapping to help the ailing duke. My heart twisted, and a tight band of panic wrapped around my chest. If I had known… I squeezed my eyes shut. Things might have been different.