Page 10 of Revenge

He stopped. “Are you?”

“Am I what?” I glared at him over my shoulder.

“Happy.”

I rolled my eyes and continued walking. Predictably, he followed after me. A glow of triumph warmed my insides. Whoever had the idea to publish details of a fake engagement was a genius. The triumvirate were so malevolent, they were moving in to sabotage my happiness by sending Blake over to make a flirty overture.

“That evening in the new house, when it was you and Henry and me,” Blake’s voice became low and seductive. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it, because you did. It was the hottest night of your life, and you know it.”

“I drank too much champagne that day,” I inspected my nails. “It’s all one blur, now.”

“Liar. I’ll bet you think about it all the time.” His smoky voice curled around my eardrums, making my spine tingle. “I imagine you relive that experience every time you touch yourself. I know that’s my go-to fantasy.”

“You’re disgusting,” I spat.

“But you like it.” Blake stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “I don’t care if Sergei Bachmann has the fingers of a pianist. He has only two hands, and we have six. Do you know what else you can get from three men?”

“Two extra people to betray you when you try to help.” I shoved him aside and continued toward the tuck shop.

A group of passing third-year girls giggled and scurried away. I stared after them, envying their simple lives.

Blake raised his palms. “That business had nothing to do with me.”

“Are you throwing Henry under the bus, now?” I picked up my pace, feet stamping on the gravel.

“Throwing?” He shook his head and continued after me. “Why take second best when you can have us?”

I flared my nostrils and twisted my features to look hurt and offended. It wasn’t a stretch, because they really had hurt me. The triumvirate had only cared about themselves and had used me as their sacrificial lamb. If it wasn’t for my revenge plan, I would never have returned.

“What the fuck do you want?” I asked.

“We’ll take you back into the fold.”

I stopped, eyes wide. “What?”

Blake was no longer smirking. “But you’ll have to break things off with the pianist.”

Loud techno music boomed out of a building on our right. While it was of a similar architectural style of Elder House, wet laundry and plastic bags containing groceries hung out of the windows. It was as if this particular house didn’t have a master or anyone tasked to keep the students under control. “What is this place?”

“International House.”

“Are they celebrating something?” I eyed a scruffy young man who stared out of a ground floor window. He was probably a janitor.

Blake stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets and shrugged. “It’s been like this ever since they occupied the building.”

“I didn’t notice them last term.”

“That’s because they only joined the academy in January.”

My brows furrowed. Why would bullies target people doing their best to fit in, like Rita and me, and not rise up against those who turned the campus into an eyesore? If I had hung wet laundry out of the window, a mob would bay for my blood, but these students showed no respect for their building.

“Who are they?” I asked.

“That’s a question best left unanswered.” Blake turned around and strolled back toward Elder house.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek. This was certainly a subject I would raise with Jackie. If Rudolph was looking for an angle to avenge himself on the headmaster, there might be something in International House that could bring down the school.

Chapter 5