Stuck With The Four Hotties

“Yeah, way late, asshole.” Zayd is pissed, but not at me and not even at Windsor, but at the whole situation. Even though I appreciate the sentiment, I elbow myself from his grip and take up a strong stance of my own. Even though my friends are here, and I appreciate them, I can’t fully trust anyone but myself. “If we hadn’t gotten here when we did …” Zayd’s voice trails off, but he has to know that Windsor is most definitely on our side. He was just helping in other ways. That much I do know.

The prince gives Harper and friends a skeptical look.

“I disabled the motor on your friends’ boat. I don’t imagine they’ll be showing up tonight.” Harper turns almost the same red shade as Windsor’s hair. She’s furious. “And I’m not late.” He gives a dramatic eye roll and a wink, that I’d return if I wasn’t so shaken up. “I saw Zack on his way up here, with these idiots trailing behind.” He gestures at the Idol boys, and Tristan snarls at him. “My time was better spent elsewhere. Oh.” As if it’s

just occurred to him, Windsor snaps his fingers and lifts up the front of his shirt.

There’s a tattoo there, an infinity tattoo. The entire boat falls silent.

“I’ve been resisting the Club for a long, long time, but Marnye needs someone on the inside to watch her back, so … here I am!” Windsor lifts his arms for emphasis, ever the showman. “Oh, and I’m an awful, dirty fucking wanker. I don’t have a trust fund, or parents breathing down my neck that control my purse strings: I have nine billion in personal assets to play with.” Windsor pauses, resting his head in his hand. “Well, twelve billion in US dollars, I suppose.”

“Do you think I’m threatened by you?” Harper snorts a laugh. “Some tenth-string prince from a country nobody even knows about?”Content is property of NôvelDrama.Org.

“England?” Windsor asks, his voice tinted with wry humor. “You do understand where the pilgrims came from, right?”

Harper spins to Tristan, desperate to make headway with someone. Clearly, Windsor isn’t interested in her games. The boy dances to the beat of his own drum, that’s for sure.

“Last chance, Tristan.” Harper is dead serious, but Tristan simply smirks at her.

“You’re going to wish you’d never met me,” he says, his voice like steel. Zack moves around behind the pack of Bluebloods to stand beside me. I feel sick when I see the blood running down the side of his face; he needs some stitches, pronto. His dark eyes catch on mine, and I shiver. I owe him for taking on Greg, John, and Ben. Three on one, very impressive.

“Consider that goal accomplished,” Harper snaps, chucking the expensive ring at her ex-fiance. Tristan catches it no problem, and then turns to me.

“Let’s go. I’ve got one of Dad’s yachts.” Tristan comes over to stand beside me, cupping the side of my face as the other boys stiffen up. Well, except for Windsor: he just laughs and the sound echoes across the lake. The King of Burberry Prep then runs his thumb along my lower lip before he sneers at the prince. I use that moment to separate myself from him, giving my heart some distance so my brain can think clearly.

Miranda looks at me, and I’m having a hard time figuring out why she looks half afraid, and half jealous. Jealous of who? Not of me, right? She comes over to stand next to me, pulling away from Creed, and then whispers in my ear.

“Which one?” She takes in the boys with a reserved, sweeping gaze, while Harper and her cronies slowly file off the boat. Nothing more can be accomplished here. Next year … there’s going to be a war.

I don’t say anything because I’m distracted by Tristan getting up in Windsor’s face.

“You, go home to England and fuck off; we don’t need you here.”

“And who, precisely, is we?” the prince asks, glancing at me with glittering hazel eyes. He cocks a brow as Tristan looks between the two of us and scowls. He straightens up his wool coat and turns his glare back on Windsor. “As far as I can see it, Marnye very much needs me.”

“How so?” Tristan demands, lifting his chin in challenge. I’m not sure that I can ever really trust him, or that he’ll ever really be mine, but … at least he’s a powerful ally to have against Harper du Pont.

“Because, we’re dating,” Windsor says innocently. I’m not sure if he’s trying to buy me time, give me an out, or … if he really would like to date me. I’ll have to worry about that later. None of the boys seems particularly happy about it though.

Tristan just glances at me with his storm-gray eyes, and then turns to head for the boat’s ladder. But Harper’s still standing there, waiting. She meets his eyes with a challenge burning in hers, and then turns to me.

“Enjoy the summer, Marnye. It’s going to be your last.” Harpers turns, and disappears down the ladder, just before we hear a boat’s engine start up with a grumble.

“Did she just threaten my life?” I choke out, but why should I be surprised? It wouldn’t be the first time.

Well shit … School is out, summer has started, and in the morning, we’re all supposed to head home. I’ll go back to Cruz Bay and Charlie while the boys go … wherever it is that they go.

For now, it’s all on hold.

Come September, all gloves are off. At least, that’s what I think in that moment.

“Come on, Marnye, I’ve got a boat, too,” Miranda says, grabbing my hand and pulling me away from the boys. I ignore them all as I walk past and climb down the ladder, but they follow after me anyway.

Second year at Burberry Preparatory Academy was hard as hell. Third year’s goin

g to be a fucking nightmare.