Share the new girl.
That won’t be easy, will it?
Especially not while trying to keep our thrones in the Burberry Prep social scene.
Marnye is learning to forgive us; the least we can do is protect her.
Let’s see who can make her fall in love first.
This time, there’s no bet. This time, it’s just our hearts on the line.
***
Take on the filthy rich girls—and do it with the help of the boys.
It’s us versus them, and it’s not going to be pretty.
The king of the school, a pissed-off narcoleptic, a tattooed rockstar, a varsity football player, and a prince.
Five guys to back me up, five boys that give me butterflies.
They say they’ve changed their ways; it’s time to see if they can keep that promise.
Table of Contents Table of Contents
Front Matter Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Signup for my Newsletter
Author's Note
Map of Vanderbilt Manor
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Back Matter In the Arms of the Elite Cover
The Secret Girl Cover
The Secret Girl Chapter 1
Keep Up With The Fun
More Books By C.M. Stunich
About the Author
The Envy of Idols
The Envy of Idols © C.M. Stunich 2019
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
The For information address Sarian Royal Indie Publishing, 89365 Old Mohawk Rd, Springfield, OR 97478.
www.cmstunich.com
Cover art and design © Amanda Carroll and Sarian Royal
The The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, businesses, or locales is coincidental and is not intended by the author.
this book is dedicated to the fans.
you helped make this series what it is.
your patience, kind words, and messages do not go unnoticed.
thanks for being my kindred book spirits.
love ya, c.m.
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Author's Note
***Possible Spoilers***
The Envy of Idols is a reverse harem, high school bully romance. What does that mean exactly? It means our female main character, Marnye Reed, will end up with at least three love interests by the end of the series. It also means that for a good portion of this book, the love interests beg for forgiveness from Marnye, but also fight amongst each other. This book in no way condones bullying, nor does it romanticize it. If the love interests in this story want to win the main character over, they’ll have to change their ways, accept her revenge, and embrace her forgiveness.
Karma is a bitch, especially when it comes in the form of Marnye Reed.
Any kissing/sexual scenes featuring Marnye are consensual. This book might be about high school students, but it is not what I would consider young adult. The characters are brutal, the emotions real, the f-word in prolific use. There’s some underage drinking, sexual situations, mentions of past suicide attempts, and other adult scenarios.
None of the main characters is under the age of seventeen. This series will have a happy ending in the fourth and final book.
Reading Order:
Rich Boys of Burberry Prep Series
Filthy Rich Boys
Bad, Bad Bluebloods
The Envy of Idols
In the Arms of the Elite
His gaze is like ice, but his fingers feel like fire.
I put my hands up to cover my face, but Tristan reaches over and tugs them down, sharing a private grin with me that I feel my lips suddenly desperate to match. We’re lying on our backs on the bed, panting, when the door opens and Lizzie Walton walks in.
“Shit, I thought that was locked,” Tristan says, sitting up and raking his fingers through his dark hair. It’s not so perfect right now. Instead, it’s all mussed up and as cute as I’ve ever seen it. Well, if you could ever call Tristan Vanderbilt cute. Sexy, definitely. Tall, dark, and handsome. Sure. But cute?
Anyway, it’s hard to focus on that because the look on Lizzie’s face is like broken glass. Guilt stabs through me like a knife. I didn’t ask for this though, not any of it.
“The guests are arriving,” she whispers, looking at us, wondering, maybe guessing at what we’ve done. It’s probably torture, though, not knowing. If I’d walked in on her and Tristan in a similar position, I’d lose my mind. It’s not what it looks like though; it’s not what it seems. “William is furious; he’s looking for you.”
“Of course he’s furious,” Tristan says with a scowl, swiping his palm down his sweaty face. “I’m not just a bastard anymore; I’m an embarrassment.”
Lizzie steps into the room and closes the door behind her, putting her back against the wood.
She locks eyes with Tristan.
Somewhere downstairs, my other four boyfriends are waiting. It doesn’t feel so strange to say it anymore, boyfriends, plural. It’s almost natural now. Eventually, I’ll have to choose. But today is not that day. Next week isn’t that day. But at the end of next year … what will happen then? My heart hurts just thinking about it.
“What?” Tristan asks, his entire body going taut, muscles locked and straining.
Lizzie closes her eyes and then lifts her hand, twisting her engagement ring off her finger. When she opens her eyes again, I can see it: love, want, and desperate need.
“I don’t know what’ll happen if I tell my parents no,” she says, looking down at the ring. “I think they love me enough to get over it, but … I can’t do it. I can’t marry Marcel.”
I stand up from my side of the bed, swiping my palms down the front of my cream-colored satin dress to get out the wrinkles. Lizzie isn’t looking at me though. No, her attention is all on Tristan. Her amber eyes are bright with determination while Tristan’s are a flat, neutral gray. I can’t read him; I can’t read him at all.
“Why are you telling me this?” he asks, standing up and reaching for his shirt. He slips it over his head and looks at her with this strange mixture of frustration and confusion. “My dad’s on the warpath. He doesn’t like you, and he doesn’t like Marnye, and he doesn’t want the entire board of directors for the Infinity Club waltzing into our house to pass judgment.”
“I don’t care about the Infinity Club right now,” she says, and my heart begins to race, echoing the throbbing pulse point I can see beating in her throat. She takes a step forward, but Tristan doesn’t move. “All I care about is you, Tristan. I love you.”
And there it is. The truth. The tr
uth I’ve been dreading since I first laid eyes on Lizzie Walton at that party by the lake.
I shouldn’t be selfish. I should let him go. I should … I have four other guys that I care about, so why am I standing here feeling like my heart is being ripped out? If I’m already dreading that final moment when I have to make a choice between them, then why not let Tristan go now? Why not let him be with a girl who loves him, a girl who’s been nothing but a loyal friend all year? And if he loves her, too, then maybe they were meant to be together.
“I—” I start, drawing both their gazes. I’m not sure what I’m about to say. I love you? Or I think you should be with her? Maybe something else entirely? But then the door opens and there’s Windsor York, expression relaxed, the very picture of nonchalance.
He isn’t concerned about this meeting; he doesn’t care.
“William Vanderbilt’s a clever man, isn’t he?” the prince says, his accent crisp and sharp. He steps into the room, dressed in his third-year uniform, and 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 to my cheek. His dark eyes move with shadows, and his full mouth is pursed tight. He’s as miserable here as I am.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I say, glancing out Tristan’s front window to see Harper climbing from her car. I exhale sharply, and turn toward the door to follow Creed.
“Drive safe, Marnye,” Zack says, and I give a little wave for him, Zayd, and Windsor before I leave, snatching my suitcase, and my bookbag from the floor of my room.
It all feels so dramatic, but … it’s just another summer for us academy kids.
Today, we’re plotting intrigue. Last week, we meted out vengeance. Tomorrow, we’ll probably go to the beach.
One year, one choice, one improbable future.
Who knew that being the new girl would be so damn difficult.
There are five gorgeous guys in my bedroom.
The tension is so thick, it could be cut with a knife. This is insane, I think as I exhale and inadvertently draw every gaze in the room. Frankly, I’m still reeling from last night. Having five boys invite me to spend summer vacation with them … priceless. Also, confusing. Heart attack inducing. Squeal worthy.
Their attention makes me shift uncomfortably, and Windsor grins.
“Do you how many girls at Burberry would give their entire family fortune to be in your position right now?” he asks, and it takes a lot of effort not to roll my eyes. Then he winks at me and licks his lower lip, and I’m rolling my eyes anyway.
“And what position, exactly, is it that I’m in?” I ask, crossing my arms over my baggy t-shirt. As soon as the guys swarmed my dad’s new little rental home in Grenadine Heights, I changed clothes. My party dress from last night is now in a plastic bag near the front door. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to wear it again.
I shiver.
Zack notices and his face softens. He’s got three stitches in his forehead, a swollen left eye, and a seriously puffy lower lip. I mean, puffier than normal. He’s always had a nice, full mouth …
“The five hottest, richest guys at the academy, all right here in your boudoir,” Windsor purrs, standing up from his position in the corner and sliding his palms down the front of his short-sleeved, pale blue button-down. “You now get to make the tricky choice of deciding exactly who you’d like to bunk with during the summer.”
“Assuming my dad says I can go,” I insert slowly, my eyes catching on Tristan’s gray ones for a moment. He’s not engaged to Harper anymore! Part of me wants to run in the bathroom, close the door, and squeal. The rest of me … has no idea why he’s even here. Zayd, either, for that matter. Windsor is my friend; Zack has a crush on me. What about Creed?
I try my best not to look at him because every time I do, I think about the way his eyes looked when he cornered me in The Mess that day. “Avoiding me won’t do you any good.” He notices me looking and lightl
y rests his fingers under his chin.
“She’ll stay with me, obviously. She can room with Miranda. My sister won’t accept anything less.”
“Bullshit,” Zack snorts as he shakes his head, eyeing the three Idol boys warily. “You can’t make that decision for her.” He doesn’t trust them anymore now than he did yesterday. But … maybe I do? Hell, I’m not sure. I’m not sure about anything at this moment. Well, except for the fact that Dad’s at work. He’s a pretty chill parent, but I don’t think he’d appreciate me inviting all these guys over while he’s not home, particularly when all but one of them have been involved in bullying me.
Oh, and I’m pretty sure all of them are man-whores, too. Charlie would most certainly not appreciate that part of the equation.
“No doubt I’ll be alone at my place,” Zayd interjects, his emerald gaze dark with emotion as he eyes me from across the room. There’s this broken sort of tenderness between us that feels even more difficult to traverse than the shit I have to deal with in regards to Tristan or Creed. “And I’ll give you the master upstairs, so you won’t have to see much of me … unless you want to.” His already husky rockstar purr gets a little rougher, a little more strained.
“It’s probably best you don’t come with me,” Tristan says, his voice this cold thread of steel. There’s a throbbing sort of anger inside of him that I can see quite plainly in the tightness of his shoulders, the ticking muscle in his jaw, the heat in his gray eyes. He keeps it pretty well-contained though. “My father doesn’t know that Harper and I broke up, and I’d rather nobody but me was around when he finds out.”
My heart clenches, and my nostrils flare. That sounds like a really, really bad idea to me. I don’t want Tristan to get hit again. If I had my way, I’d follow him around forever to keep his father away. Maybe I should go and stay with him? But only if I might be able to help, not if I’ll make things worse.
“Why are you even here then?” Windsor asks, putting his hands on his hips and looking down at Tristan with an expression that reminds me of a cat stalking a rat. Tristan glances up at him and scowls.
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