Page 34 of Wicked Elites

Michelle leaned across the table, dark eyes glowing with excitement. “Cormac has a soft spot for you.”

“No.” Heat rushed to my cheeks. “He just misses his twin.”

Her brows drew together. “When you put it like that, it makes sense. Poor Cormac is compensating for what happened to Corrine.”

Before I could press for details, Michelle rose. “I forgot my Human Biology textbook. Dr. Forrester will kill me if I enter his class empty-handed.”

I stared at her retreating back. Had she really left her textbook behind, or did she just want to avoid talking about Cormac’s dead twin?

The first class of the day was English Language, one of the few compulsory courses in the academy and taught by Miss Claymore. She stood at the front of the lecture theater, going through the salient points of Winston Churchill’s ‘We Shall Fight on the Beaches’ speech as a demonstration of persuasive and argumentative writing.

Sebastian, Leopold, and Prakash sat a seat away from me on my row and glared at me throughout the lecture. I kept my gaze on my notebook and scribbled the word ‘anaphora’ while listening to Miss Claymore’s examples.

“Willow,” whispered Sebastian.

I clenched my teeth. What did he want from me now?

“Willow!”

“Mr. Garraway,” snapped Miss Claymore. “Is there any reason you are speaking in the middle of my lecture?”

Everyone turned to stare. I dipped my head and pretended to be absorbed in my notes.

“No, Miss,” Sebastian replied.

“Come to the front row. Now.”

Sebastian’s shoulders slumped with defeat. I pursed my lips and continued scribbling the same word over and over in my notebook.

He stood at my side. “Excuse me?”

“What?” I glowered up his broad, muscular body, past the strong jaw and kissable lips, into his green eyes.

“May I pass?” His gaze dropped to my chest.

A flush heated my face. Was he picturing me half-naked and bulging out of my towel? “Go the other way.”

With a huff, he turned around and made his friends stand. I glared at his broad back as he made his way across the row and down the steps to the front row.

Leopold shot me a filthy look, and I sneered back. Miss Claymore needed to drag him down to the front, too. He was lucky I hadn’t reported him for indecent exposure and soliciting sex for money.

Throughout the day, the kings continued glaring at me at every opportunity. I usually sat with Cormac in Economics, but one of the younger prefects called him away to see Mrs. Benazir. As Mr. Fisher told us to open our books to the chapter on altruism, Leopold slid in the seat next to mine.

“For goodness’ sake,” I muttered.

“Goodness has nothing to do with this,” he whispered.

“What are you talking about?”

“You fractured my fucking cock.”

“It doesn’t have any bones, you idiot.”

He harrumphed. “Then you must be short-sighted because you were on it like a greedy piglet.”

“Now I know you’re lying,” I whispered back. “Because you’re describing the fantasy you had about me after I smacked you to the ground.”

He fell silent, and I braced myself for an insult. Guys like Leopold fantasized about girls like Geraldine and Bianca. Last night was about humiliating me and collecting ten-thousand pounds. I’d be fooling myself if I believed otherwise.