Page 20 of Play The Game

She rolls her eyes and waves dismissively at me. “Ash insisted on having a copy. He says it’s for emergency use only and apparently having a locked door between him and his Mounty this morning counts as an emergency.”

Unrepentant, he strides into the room with a smirk at his sister, Harley and Blaise following closely behind him. My breath catches in my chest, still infatuated at the devastating sight of them all in their uniforms. I swear I ruin my panties.

Ash shifts his smirk to me but calls out to his sister, “Avery, do we really have to have another conversation about your attitude toward my relationship with the Mounty?”

Never one to back down, she shrugs back at him sweetly. “If I come back here one day and find you with your dick out, I’ll destroy you. Slowly, and with great pleasure.”

Right.

I move away from the escalating Beaumont bullshit and sling my bag over my shoulder. Blaise grins at me and gives me a quick kiss, no tongue because he’s a little worried now I’ve armed Avery with the same type of knife I carry at all times. He’s seen first-hand how sharp it is and, despite what his piece of shit father thinks, he’s not stupid.

Harley bites his lip at the sight of my socks and hauls me into his arms, a hand cupping my face as he kisses me, walking us both to the door without breaking the kiss. It’s fucking stupid, especially with how worried I’ve been about going public, but I practically swoon.

He breaks away with a grin, and Blaise cackles at one of Avery’s snipes to her brother, trailing behind us as we head out to class.

Four steps.

We make it four fucking steps into the hallway before Annabelle freaking Summers accosts us.

“You’re all fucking the Mounty slut now?” she spits, and I grind my teeth together so hard they instantly ache, but it’s the only way to stop myself from reacting her to vitriol.

The only person able to hit her back where it hurts is Harley anyway, and he ignores her entirely. He pulls me into his side a little tighter, leaning down to kiss my cheek, and there’s a look in his eyes that I’m certain he’s only ever given me. It’s a ‘fuck you’ to Annabelle, while being entirely genuine, because I’ve spent enough time with him now to know that he always wants his hands on me. Two birds, one stone, no doubt of where we stand if our audience has half a brain between them.

I swear I hear the bitch whimper.

I’m happy to leave it at that, but then I hear a bag hit the ground and I just know she’s not going to let it go that easily. Glancing back, I find she’s thrown herself at Blaise. He’s trying to pry her off without breaking her fingers, which is very decent of him, but she starts to sob dramatically. I could fucking vomit at the sight and, unlike Blaise, I have zero issues with breaking her fingers and every other bone in her pathetic body if she doesn’t stop.

Scoffing, Harley drops his arm from around me, ready for one of us to go and deal with her, but there’s no need.

Avery dumps a full cup of piping hot coffee over her head.

Annabelle screeches, scrambling away from Blaise, and her pathetically fake sobs turn into gut-wrenching real ones. The entire hallway freezes, and the captive audience of girls who were thoroughly enjoying the show Annabelle was putting on now turn as one to gape at Avery. I mean, I kind of am, too.

She stares down at Annabelle and then surveys the other girls with a detached look. Ash steps up behind her, backing her in every sense of the word.

“I’m done asking nicely. Anyone who interferes with my family from this moment on, will be dealt with immediately and with force. I will no longer hold back and there is nothing I could do to any of you little bitches that I couldn’t make disappear from the records. Remember that.” Avery’s voice is glacial, and I smile at her like she’s my fucking soulmate. “Ash, Harley, and Blaise are off limits to you sluts. This is the only warning you’re all getting.”

Harley scoffs, pulling me back into his arms as he whispers in my ear, “Stop looking at her like you want to fuck her; you’ll give us all a complex.”

I quirk an eyebrow at him. “If we both swung that way, we’d be fucking married by now. I would have wifed up her ass last year.”

He roars with laughter.

The chapel is still my least favorite place at Hannaford, and as Mr. Trevelen starts his welcome speech, I zone the fuck out. It’s slightly more bearable to be in here now that I’m firmly wedged between Avery and Ash, his fingers tracing patterns onto my thigh in a delicious way that makes me want to squirm.

The problem with being lost in my own thoughts while he’s petting me like this is that I suddenly can’t think about anything else. I’m fucking starving and these bastards are parading around like French toast topped with cherry ice cream served with freshly brewed coffee.

I’m gonna break.

My attention snaps back to the stage as a woman in her late twenties walks across, her heels far too high to be a teacher. She’s attractive; curvy and seductive, blond hair with a slash of red lipstick finishing off the Monroe look. She caresses Mr. Trevelen’s arm as she passes him and his feet stumble. The row of sophomores in front of us start whispering and shifting in their seats. Avery and I share a look.

The fingers on my thigh don’t falter.

“Thank you for that glowing introduction, Richard. Good morning, students. As your principal has just informed you, my name is Ms. Vivienne Turner. I expect I will enjoy meeting you individually throughout this first week and teaching you all history.”

Avery and I share another look before her phone comes out. Blaise angles his body so the teacher at the end of our row can’t see what she’s doing. Mr. Embley is on the Jackal’s payroll and we’ve already discussed keeping a low profile until we can flush out his other eyes in the school.

Ms. Turner leaves the stage, swaying her hips like she’s trying to fuck the air, and Trevelen steps back up to drone on and on about his plans for the school. I let my mind get back to more important concerns than his continued naivety, like planning out my study schedule and making sure everyone knows about it. Getting ahead in my studies early is my number one priority because I have to be more prepared this year. Compared to last year, my plate is now overflowing; I have three boyfriends, I’m protecting the man who killed the Vulture, the Jackal wants Harley dead, I haven’t sorted out the O’Cronin’s yet, the Beaumont’s, and now there’s the Morrisons. Sweet lord fuck, I might just be in over my head.