Page 77 of Payback

I wore my usual blazer but with one difference. A tiny prefect pin to match Edward’s. The board of governors had been so impressed with the positive press generated by the blood drive, that they decided I would be a perfect replacement when they expelled Charlotte for spreading a particularly resistant form of syphilis.

Mom towered over me in her Louboutins, their red soles the only flash of color in her outfit. She wore a black, one-button tuxedo jacket with matching cigarette pants that lengthened her already long legs.

“Work hard this year.” She wrapped her arms around me. “And try not to get distracted from your studies.”

“You too.” I gave her a peck on the cheek and whispered, “Say hi to Bruno, Dimitri, and Maurice.”

Her lips pressed together in a thin line, but the roundness of her cheeks told me she was trying not to laugh. Ever since the boys and I had vacationed with her in Bora Bora, she had been determined to gather her own ‘harem of hunks’ to act as personal assistants and bodyguards.

She drew back. “If you need anything, send me a text.”

“I will.”

Once Mom stepped back into the limo, the reporters rushed toward their vehicles, presumably to follow Mom to London, where the trial was due to start at the Old Bailey.

The academy’s stone-fronted building was no longer as imposing as I had found it on my first day. With a smile, I ascended the stone steps, pushed open the mahogany door, and stepped into the marble hallway. The vast space stretched out in front of me, and I headed toward the middle of the building.

A mixture of former headmasters and Mercia ancestors stared down at me through gold-framed portraits, giving me a warm feeling of belonging. I had survived my first year in a British boarding school, which was more than I could say about Rudolph.

I took the rounding, twisting staircase to the first floor, just as I had on my first day. When I rounded a corner, Blake, Edward, and Henry stood at the top of the flight. My mouth went dry, and butterflies caressed the lining of my stomach. Even though I’d dated them for nearly a year, seeing them together still made my heart skitter in time with the pulse between my legs.

Blake stood on the left, his full lips curling into a smile that made me lick my lips. Mischief sparkled in his chocolate-brown eyes, and I couldn’t help the tiny shiver of anticipation that skittered down my spine.

Edward gazed down at me with warm, sapphire eyes that reflected the depth of his affection and caused my heart to swell with love. The bullet wound on his bicep had healed entirely, leaving a scar that would fade in time.

Henry stood on the right, his blond hair curling around his face like a gilded frame. My gaze roved down from his startling green eyes to his kissable lips, and down to his powerful, muscular body that was encased in tight, rugby whites.

My tongue darted out to lick my lips, and I had to clench my hands by my sides to keep from groping him in the stairwell. “Why aren’t you in your uniform?”

“It’s customary for the sports teams to wear their kit on the first assembly. By the way, Mr. Ellis saw our abysmal final tern results, and he’s made me the captain.”

Pride swelled in my chest. Everything was back to normal.

Blake gave Henry a playful nudge in the ribs. “Getting the St. Mary’s sports scholarship also didn’t hurt.”

I gasped. “You got in?”

Henry flushed and raked a hand through his blond curls. “Father’s furious that I’ve ditched retail for a life of professional rugby.”

“Congratulations!” I hurried up the stairs and wrapped my arms around his neck. Henry’s mint and citrus scent engulfed my senses, turning my bones to jelly. He was his own man now, and Mr. Bourneville was the one begging him to return to the fold.

Edward clapped Henry on the back. “This calls for a celebration.”

“Your place?” asked Blake.

“Father’s got guests tonight,” replied Edward. “I’d suggest the cottage, but Mrs. Carbuncle is still in residence.”

I drew back from Henry’s embrace. “How about Elfwynn House?”

“Sounds like a plan!” said Blake.

Someone cleared their throat. Mr. Weaver stood behind the boys with his arms folded across his chest. He wore black, academic robes over his usual suit, with a sash emblazoning the Mercia crest, indicating that his position of acting headmaster was now permanent.

Blake stepped aside, and the older man passed us down the stairs, but at the bottom, he turned around.

“Hurry along, Mr. Mercia and Miss Hobbs,” said Mr. Weaver. “I need you both in place at the assembly hall for the announcement of head boy and girl.”

My eyes widened, and a shocked breath whooshed out of my lungs. I glanced at Edward, whose lips curled into a satisfied smile.