Page 80 of Wicked Elites

“If it wasn’t for Miss Claymore’s testimony that Sebastian was in detention with her that evening, and two other girls saying they had been with Leopold, we all would have been screwed.”

My mouth gaped open. “Did you have an alibi?”

He lowered his head into his hands. “She came to my room that night, saying she wanted to make love one last time.”

My stomach sank as I remembered the diary entry saying she hated him with the power of a supernova and that she would get even with him. Corrine had set him up.

The rape accusation also explained why Cormac hated the boys with so much passion. Sebastian and Leopold had never overstepped my boundaries in their hideout. Even without the alibis, I couldn’t see them forcing themselves on a girl.

“Did anyone get into trouble?” I asked.

“Last year, I told Miss Claymore and Mrs. Benazir everything, and they said that it was unfair to punish a sixteen-year-old for a mistake they had made when they were thirteen.”

“What about Corrine?”

“Miss Claymore pleaded her case and said her circumstances were extenuating. Expelling Corrine would send her back into a foster home, and Cormac would probably also leave.”

I nodded. Mrs. Benazir wouldn’t want to lose two of the scholars who kept the academy at the top of the Elite Register. We sat in silence, the weight of his words hanging over us like storm clouds.

Prakash leaned forward and took my hand. “You scored a victory today. Two, I suppose. The queens won’t like that you stood up to them, and now that your sister is in their ranks, they’ll want to avenge what happened at the auction house.”

My insides turned to stone. “What are you saying?”

“Leave Brittas Academy before one of your enemies strike.”

“You don’t think they’ll drag me out of bed again now that they’re being investigated by the police?”

He let out a frustrated huff. “I can’t watch you every hour of the day. Neither can the police or Miss Claymore. Do yourself a favor and go back to your old school.”

“But I’ll owe the academy all the money.”

“Then go into debt until you win another lucrative scholarship. Or sell the house.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he said, “Nothing’s worth your life. Not even the memory of your childhood home.”

I dipped my head. It was so easy for him to dish out warnings when he had financial support and at least one parent. All I had was that house.

Uncle Trevor’s young family was growing by another person, and I couldn’t pull him from his responsibilities. Without that bursary, I’d lose the house and lose my memories of Mom and Dad.

Chapter 19

I sat back on the velvet lounge chair, trying my best to ruminate over his story through the buzz of my one-and-a-half gin and tonics. Lemon-scented bubbles popped from the surface of my drink, releasing tiny bursts of gaseous gin.

I drained my glass and sighed. It was no wonder Cormac didn’t want to read the diary. Corrine’s final year was as chaotic as her brother had told me.

Blinking away those thoughts, I pushed what I’d learned aside and resolved to make more of an effort to break more of her diary code. If I was lucky, I might find another coding system she used to describe her interactions with the queens.

Prakash sipped from his glass of single-malt whiskey and fixed me with dark, hooded eyes. In all the time I had sat next to him in Advanced Calculus, I’d never noticed his thick lashes or the way his eyes seemed to stare deep into my soul.

In all the time I had known Prakash, it had never occurred to me that his suggestions to leave the academy were his way of looking out for my well-being.

He lowered his glass and ran his tongue over full, sensual lips. Were his kisses as intoxicating as those of Sebastian and Leopold? Heat gathered in my core, and I pressed my legs together. Maybe I shouldn’t have the rest of that second drink if all I could think about was his masculine beauty.

A group of businessmen entered and dined at a faraway table, and we ordered delicious mushroom risottos and a Marsala wine-soaked tiramisu, followed by biscotti and vin santo. Prakash dipped his almond biscuit into his wine, and I did the same. Later, we had coffee with a shot of amaretto, a bitter almond-based liqueur.

We continued drinking, and I felt encouraged enough to bring up the subject of Corrine. “Did she leave you alone after the allegations were proven false?”

His shoulders relaxed. “At the time, I thought it had brought Corrine to her senses. She was very apologetic and wanted to make amends.”

“How?”