Page 22 of Revenge

From the seat in front, Henry turned around from where he sat next to Edward and smirked.

“Shhh.” I placed a finger on my lips.

“He got a date with you. What about me?” He reached under the desk and squeezed my thigh.

I shot him a hard look. Sometimes, it was hard to tell if Blake was the best of the triumvirate or the worst. Whereas Edward and Henry had their motives, Blake did not. Edward was fiercely protective of who attended Mercia Academy, with the strange exception to the people of International House. Henry had wanted to extort money out of his parents for reasons I hadn’t yet discovered.

Blake, on the other hand, had never seemed dislike me. Yet he had participated in all of the pranks and had framed me for broadcasting the blowjob video he’d shot of himself and Charlotte. He had conveniently edited out all the incriminating parts where he had promised Charlotte a chance with Henry… and the Bourneville fortune.

Blake turned back to his notebook. I picked up my fountain pen and wrote the first sentence of my Creative Writing assignment. Moments later, his fingertips slid down my inner thigh, sending tingles shooting straight to my core.

I clamped my legs together, trapped his hand, and hissed, “Stop that!”

“Well, it isn’t fair,” he whispered. “I’ve been good to you all this time, and I want a date.”

My teeth clacked together. Blake could have saved me a world of hurt by giving me a stronger warning not to contact the police. I’d gone to him, worried out of my mind for Henry, and Blake had given me the most unconvincing of reasons why I shouldn’t worry about the kidnappers returning to abduct his friend. I held back a growl. It was almost as if he had goaded me into calling the police.

“Emilia…” he whispered into my ear.

Irritation fizzled up my spine. Everything was a joke to Blake. And when he wasn’t amused, he would set in motion a shit storm and laugh at everyone scrambling about. My eyes shuttered closed. How many times had Henry snapped at him to stop teasing me? And that time I was locked in the basement, who had delighted in my struggle to work out that I had been framed?

Blake.

Wrapping my hand around his wrist, I pulled it off my thigh. It was time for me to teach Blake a little lesson. “There’s no need for a date,” I whispered. “You’re the easy one.”

His gaze hardened. “What do you mean?”

“Hobson!” Mr. Frost threw a piece of chalk at the patch of wall beside my head. It bounced off the surface and smacked me on the temple. “No talking in class.”

“It’s fine,” said Edward. “She’s not bothering anyone.”

Mr. Frost inclined his head and continued his lecture on a Roman orator called Cicero.

Blake continued trying to wheedle a date out of me, but I didn’t reply and kept a closed-lipped smile. My insides warmed with a sick sense of glee. He was an attention whore, and he hated not getting any. I would draw out this teasing for as long as I could before giving in to his demands.

I turned to Mr. Frost. Apart from red hair that thinned at the temples, he appeared to be in his early to mid twenties. Surely, he was too old to be a sycophant? Perhaps he deferred to Edward because the triumvirate had blackmailed him into submission. Even people like our housemaster, Mr. Jenkins, seemed resigned about Edward’s rule over the academy, but Mr. Frost was much like Carbuncle, who enjoyed being subservient to the boys.

I wrote down some notes for Creative Writing and peered at the way Mr. Frost singled Edward out for personal attention. At least Carbuncle got the benefit of bribes. Why did Mr. Frost kiss Edward’s ass?

After classes, I went to my room to unpack my books. Rita sat at her study desk, working on a musical score. As soon as I stepped inside, her entire back stiffened, then she bowed her head.

I closed the door. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” she whispered.

My brows drew together. It had been ages since I’d seen her act so timid. Ever since she had connected with the other scholarship students, Rita had smiled more and now had a friend in another house. This kind of jittery behavior was odd for her. “Rita?”

She twisted in her seat, looking ready to bolt. “Yes?”

“Is someone bothering you again?” Ever since the report on her brother, Charlotte had kept a low profile. I couldn’t see her bullying Rita when everyone still gossiped about the Underwood family finances.

“It’s nothing.” Rita picked up her satchel and placed the scores into its depths. Then she slung it over her shoulder. “Just a few words.”

“Who?”

She stood and bowed her head. “If you confront him, it will only get worse.”

I stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “It’s Edward, isn’t it? I caught him giving you a funny look last week and told him to back off.”