I gawk at him, my mouth in an O.
“Wider,” he says.
“What?” I frown.
“You’ll need to open your mouth a little wider if you want to fit it all in.”
I know exactly which it he means. “Get out!” I shoot to my feet, pointing over his shoulder. “Now! Out, out, out! I am never going to any dance with you ever, Prince John Lancaster the Turd!” Expecting him to back down I march forward.
He doesn’t move. He just chuckles with cocky confidence.
I have no choice but to stop short. I’m afraid to touch him when he’s shirtless. Not afraid to do it. Afraid of the consequences. It might quickly lead to us doing things. Ahem.
I whip my finger for emphasis and point. “Out of my room!”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll make you leave! Go, Prince!”
“Please make me,” he chuckles.
I’m getting fucking flustered for exquisitely obvious reasons. “Leave! Please! Or put a shirt on! Anything!” Gabs!
“Are you begging, strumpet?”
“No-a! You’re supposed to be begging!” We’re inches apart and I’m a slick quivering mass of feminine flesh. He’s a hard mountain of slabs of abs and tan surfing muscles.
“I told you, begging isn’t my style. On you, I find it quite enticing.”
I’m dying for him to kiss me right now. I don’t care what happens. He can throw me on the bed behind me for all I care.
He says, “Do me the honor of going to the winter formal. Then we’ll see about doing you.”
I almost gawk and drop my jaw into another O, but I don’t want to give him any ideas.
“Yes or no?” he asks.
“Fine! I’ll go to the stupid dance!” Now kiss me already! I refuse to actually say it, but I’m dying for him to do it.
He caresses my chin with a single finger and plants a sensual kiss on my lips. My knees practically buckle from the sensation. I’d fall over but I think I’m floating. I open myself to let him slide all the way in and his tongue teases the tip of mine. I swear, it’s the most erotic kiss I’ve ever had, like we’re flying, I can’t even describe it. Also, it’s the first kiss we’ve shared since Halloween. I was starting to think he’d lost interest. Obviously not.
I moan, ready to let him deepen it.
Something suddenly chimes.
Prince’s phone. In his pocket. He grunts and pulls away like he’s in pain.
“I have to go,” he hisses.
“Now?” I whine.
“A meeting.”
“What?”
“I have an important meeting. I can’t be late.” He’s already picking up his shirt and buttoning it back on. Gabs.
“Is this an Ivory Tower thing?”
He frowns. “How do you know about that?”
“Please. Everyone knows about that. You can see the tower from anywhere on campus.”
“I know that,” he nods in irritation, “but why would you ask if I was going to one of their meetings?”
“Duh! I heard you fighting with Elizabeth about it at Halloween. She said you’re the magister or whatever.”
Prince grimaces, “That woman cannot keep her mouth shut.”
“So what? It’s just some stupid club.”
He slaps me with an angry glare.
I feel it like a physical thing. “Fine! Go to your stupid meeting! I’m sure it’s more important than me anyway,” I pout. Why am I acting like this? We’re not even dating! I’m just his effing roommate! “Sorry. That came out wrong. Go to your meeting. I’m sure it’s important. We don’t have to go to any dance. You have your life, I have mine.”
“What are you saying?” he says gently.
“I’m saying I should just move back into the Convent so I’m not in your way.”
“You can’t do that,” he says with concern. “That place is horrendous.”
“You think?” I snort. “How do you think Mimi and the other work-study girls feel about it? It’s freezing over there! I shouldn’t be living here! I don’t deserve better than them! I feel like an ass for being here!”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Yes I should. I’m a work-study girl, Prince. Not a Fundy like you. Between my job and my homework, I don’t have time for fancy dances.”
“You would if you didn’t have to work.”
“I don’t have any choice. It’s part of the deal for not going to prison. I’m sure you know about that.”
He shakes his head in frustration, “I don’t care what the rules are. You don’t have to work as a maid, Marianne. You have other options.”
“No I don’t!”
“You do if I make the arrangements. One phone call and I’ll see to it you never have to work again while you’re here at Castle Hill.”
“I can’t do that,” I laugh. “What would Mimi and the other work-study kids think if all of a sudden I got special privileges none of them get?”
“They’d think they wished they were you.”
“No, they’d hate me! Add that to the Fundies who already do, and that makes everyone in the school hating me, Prince!”
“I don’t hate you,” he mutters, head lowered, almost embarrassed. He lifts his jeweled blue eyes to mine and whispers, “Marianne, I, I think I, I…”
Suddenly, I’m on the edge of my toes wondering if he’s suddenly going to drop the L-bomb.
“Marianne, the last couple weeks of you living here have been, I can’t explain it. It’s been the best two weeks of my life.”
“It has?”
“I’ve never had so much fun.”
“What do you mean? We barely see each other. Whenever we’re here, all we do is study.”
“True, but we have fun. You know that. Before you, I hated this place. I’d rather be surfing anywhere but here. Now all I want to do is be here with you. I don’t even care about the surfing.”
“What?!” I laugh. “You’re always telling surfing stories like it’s the best thing in the world.”
“It is.”
“But I’m not in them.”
“You could be. Fly with me to Fiji over winter break.”
“Um, I don’t think Ms. Skelter would allow it.” I already know from talking to Mimi that the work-study kids don’t get to leave campus over winter break. Same as Thanksgiving weekend, we’re stuck here.
“Princess, what have I told you about the rules?”
“They don’t apply?”
“Exactly.”
“I can’t go to Fiji, Prince. For the same reason I can’t live here. I’m going to alienate my friends. Unless you plan on taking all the work-study girls to Fiji.”
He grows thoughtful. “It could be arranged. We’d have to charter several jumbo jets to get the lot of you over to Fiji. That many passports might be a problem. What about Maui? We could do that. It’ll be rainy, and the surfing might be too intense for beginners, but we could at least get everyone there.”
“Are you serious?” I laugh. “You would fly every work-study kid to Maui? For me?”
“Only the girls.”
“Not the boys?” I laugh.
“What would be the point in that?” he grins.
“Can you, I don’t know, move all the Fundies out of the East and West Wings, and move the work-study kids in? Put the Fundies in the Convent and the Monastery?”
He grins, “There would be campus-wide riots if that happened. Let’s focus on getting you and the girls to Maui.”
“How much would that even cost? There’s a lot of us work-study girls. It has to cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. Maybe millions.”
“Pocket change.”
“You’re too much,” I laugh.
“That’s what they’ve been saying my entire life,” he grins. “Listen, princess, let’s not worry about this now. I have my meeting. We can talk about Maui later. But I would very much like it if you continued living with me, and I am taking you to the winter formal.”
/> “Is that an order?” I smirk.
He takes my hand in his. “It’s a request. Will you go with me?”
“I guess,” I sigh.
He smiles, “It’s a date. I’ll have dresses sent up the day before so you can pick one out.”
“What?! No-a! You can’t do that! Stop buying things for me already!”
“As much as I’d like you to accompany me with you wearing one of your French maid outfits from work,” he slips a sly wink, “they won’t let you into the dance in something so slutty. You need a proper dress.”
“Okay then. I guess I’ll pick one out.”
On his way out the front door, I follow him and he gives me a quick peck on the lips.
“We’ll talk later. You won’t regret this. Goodnight, Marianne.”
“G’night!” I’m grinning from ear to ear as I shut the door. Now it really does feel like we’re a couple living together.
When Prince is gone, I suddenly remember the spy cameras and Skill’s wifi router. Here Prince is laying it on the line for me, and I’m spying on him!
I can’t do it.
I rush from room to room gathering up the spy cameras. I’d switch out the router if I could, but I don’t have the old one. I gave it back last week, like Skill said. At least the cameras are now buried in my book bag.
First thing tomorrow, Rob and I are going to have a little talk.
<(—)>
“No more spying, Rob,” I say bluntly and drop the spy cameras into his open palm.
I’ve been carrying the cameras around in my book bag all day. It took forever to find him. I even told Mimi to find me and tell me if she found him first. Turns out I found him here mopping the floor in the math building. I can see the half-mopped puddle where some absent-minded Fundy no doubt spilled an entire mug of creamy Castle Hill cappuccino all over the tiles. I say Fundy because guess who isn’t allowed to buy coffee at the Castle Hill Cafe? The work-study kids. So much for me ever buying Luna a coffee like I promised.
Rob stands here beside his rolling yellow mop bucket resting the mop on the floor. He quickly jams the handful of cameras I gave him into the pocket of his navy coveralls, looking around suspiciously as he does it.
I say, “I need the old router back.”
“Shh. Not here.” He grabs my elbow and drags me past classrooms and into a broom closet around the corner and off the corridor. A very small broom closet.
It’s just me and him in this very dimly lit and intimate space. His masculine presence is nearly overwhelming. His leathery motor oil scent triggers memories of the night we met with the black racing motorcycles and black blood on his hands, him saving me from the iron maiden on Halloween, lying in his bed after, pressed tight against his muscled thighs like he would never ever let go. Too bad he did.
He frowns in disbelief. “What happened? Why the change of heart?”
I smirk, “It’s complicated.” In other words, you ghosted me and I’m done with you and your spy games. It takes everything I have not to ask for an explanation. Rob had his chance. Now it’s Prince’s turn. I sigh, “When can I get the old router back?”
Rob looks dumbfounded.
“Forget it,” I say. “I’ll ask Skill myself.”
I open the door an inch.
Light from the hallway pours in and I listen for footsteps. The last thing I want is anyone seeing me coming out of a dark broom closet with Rob. Knowing this rumor mill, Prince would hear about it within the hour. I definitely don’t want that happening.
When I don’t hear anyone coming, I open the door and slip out. I gasp when someone turns the corner. A work-study girl with their sneaky flat-soled shoes! If it’d been a Fundy, I would’ve heard clacking high heels, but I didn’t! Obviously, work-study girls are perfectly capable of spilling the tea, even when it involves one of their own, meaning me. I’m about to jump back into the closet and slam the door shut when I realize Rob is coming out after me. He’s way too big to shove back in. Now we’re caught!
I’m about to have a heart attack when I see it’s Mimi.
“What’re you doing?” she whispers, eying Rob. “Were you two just—”
“Talking,” I say sourly. “Just talking. Nothing happened.” Maybe it would have if Rob hadn’t lured me into his lying lair before ghosting me, who knows. But he did. “Believe me, nothing happened.”
“Too bad,” Mimi pouts. She knows how I feel about Rob.
Rob shakes his head and grunts, “I have a floor to mop.” He shoulders past us.
“Nice to see you too,” Mimi says sarcastically, shaking her head when he turns the corner. When he’s gone, she mutters, “Ass. You okay, Mare Bear?”
“I’m fine,” I sigh.
I really am. Now that the weight of spying on Prince is off my shoulders, I feel a million times better. I have only one little thing left to do to undo what I started.
The next morning, I go to Prince’s suite during lunch while he’s eating in the Palace Dining Hall, disconnect the hacked router, drop it on the floor, cracking it, and take it to Arthur Hovarth in IT. He gives me a new one without question when I tell him it’s Prince’s. Skill is there in the office and he gives me a dirty look. I give him two in return. He can suck it because I’m nobody’s sucker.
Let the Poor Boys do their own spying.
Chapter 36
Ever since Mimi told me Chase asked her to the winter formal, I’ve been making her clean his room. I don’t want him getting any ideas or making any moves on me if I’m alone and he walks into his room. Consequently, I now clean Duke’s room every dinner time instead. He lives on the same floor as Chase. Not that it matters, they’re rarely in their rooms. Too busy networking in the Dining Hall, which I hear is practically a meet-and-greet for the Fundies.
Like I always do, I knock on Duke’s door before entering. “Housekeeping?” I ask in a shrill comic voice. It’s a running joke between me and Meems.
When no one answers, I push into the dark room with my bucket of stuff. I hear a noise like someone left their music on, but it’s really quiet, like insects chittering away, so maybe headphones sitting on a table or whatever and playing music? It’s kind of creepy. I say, “Lights.”
They don’t turn on.
Usually a voice command is enough. It’s not like the light switches require a password. I fumble for the touchpad on the wall.
“I broke it,” a masculine voice says from the shadows.
I jump out of my shoes before I realize it’s Duke.
He’s lying on his bed in the shadows, hands behind his head, wearing his uniform slacks, no socks, and his dress shirt is unbuttoned, showing a sliver of his savage gabs. I mean abs.
I try to laugh off my fright, “You scared me.”
“Sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Shouldn’t you be at dinner?”
“I’m not in the mood,” he grumbles.
“I can relate.” I glance over my shoulder at the open door. It means I have an escape route if necessary, but it also means anyone could walk by, look in, and see us together. I wouldn’t want word getting back to Victoria. It’ll just cause more trouble for Duke that he doesn’t deserve. Then again, it is dinner time, and all the Fundies are eating in the Dining Hall. I’m safe for now. I can tell from the brooding mood pervading the room that Duke needs a little cheering up. “What’re you doing sitting here in the dark? Catching up on sleep or something? I know your guys’s football practices are exhausting.”
“I skipped practice today.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t feel like it.”
“So you came here to listen to music or whatever?”
“Yup.”
“What’re you listening to, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Five Finger Death Punch.”
“The metal band?”
“You know them?”
“Who doesn’t?” I laugh.
“Everyone here.”
“What,
Fundies don’t like metal?”
“Metal is for angry people. Fundies are too rich to be angry. Or too high on prescription meds.”
“Oh. I guess that means you’re not on meds?”
“You could say that.”
“Why’re you angry?”
“Vee’s cheating on me again,” Duke says.
“What?” I gasp, even though I’m not surprised.
“I caught them fucking,” Duke growls, his eyes burning with hate. “Her and Skill.”
My face sags in disgust. Why am I not surprised? From day one, I could tell Skill was a professional player. Manwhore to the max. I sit down on the couch opposite his bed because Duke obviously needs to talk. I sigh, “Was it the first time?”
“What, that I caught her?” He says it with acidic loathing.
I nod.
“No,” he grumbles. “But it’s the first time she ever said she’d never marry a dumbfuck jock like me.”
“She said that?” I cringe.
“And worse,” he scowls.
“Do I want to know?”
“Fuck no,” he grunts and jumps up from the bed. He starts pacing in front of me. “Fuck her,” he spits, then goes on a rant for five minutes straight.
I just listen.
Eventually, he drops onto the couch beside me and leans his hands on his muscled thighs like he’s ready to throw up all over the floor. “Why does she have to be like this, you know? I just don’t get it!” He’s practically pulling his jet black hair out of his skull in frustration.
From the side, I see his face shake like it’s ready to crumble under the weight of the ocean of tears pressing behind his eyes.
He turns to me for sympathy. “Just fuck that fucking bitch! I don’t need that shit!”
“No,” I shake my head for emphasis. “You deserve better.” I reach over and squeeze his hand.
“Do I?” He sniffs and gives me this puppy dog look with his dark puppy dog eyes. On his handsome face it’s heart-breaking, like a man this tough and rugged should never be this vulnerable. It’s not a look I ever expected to see cross Duke’s face, but here it is.
My heart swells with compassion and I grab his hand. “Of course you do! Nobody deserves to be cheated on, let alone talked to like that! How could she say that?! It’s awful.”
Rich Boys vs. Poor Boys (The Cruel Kings of Castle Hill Academy, Book 1) by Devon Hartford kd103 Page 32