Page 33 of Twisted Elites

Prakash drew back from the kiss, his eyes soft. “I needed that.”

Warmth filled my soul, and my lips curved into a smile. “It’s so great to have you back.” I placed my hand on his chest. His heartbeat thrummed against my palm. “We tried to see you, but Mr. Pinkerton said only family could visit youths on remand. What was it like there?”

He took my hand and pressed it to his lips. “Not as bad as you’re imagining. Mrs. Benazir brought textbooks, so I could study, and there was a gym.”

I bit down on my lip. “And the other prisoners?”

Prakash shook his head. “Let’s not talk about that place. Will you stay with me tonight? I want to wrap my arms around you and sleep.”

Blinking back my surprise, I suppressed a curl of disappointment in my belly. Maybe that place had ground him down more than he wanted to admit. I tried not to imagine the kinds of thugs and juvenile delinquents who occupied the detention center.

In one of our conversations, Mr. Pinkerton had assured us that youth detention centers were nothing like a real prison and that Prakash would be among boys his age, but he was different.

Prakash wasn’t a criminal or someone who squared up to other boys and played those games of dominance. At heart, he was a scholar, and he even shared most classes with us. The only difference between him and me was that his parents could afford to pay Brittas Academy’s exorbitant fees.

I rocked forward on my tiptoes and pressed a quick peck on his lips. “Of course. Anything you need.”

A knock on the door made us both still.

“Mr. Kashaayah?” said Mrs. Benazir’s shrill voice.

Prakash groaned. “I don’t want to talk to her tonight.”

“He’s probably asleep,” said Sebastian from behind the door.

“Have a heart, Miss,” added Leopold. “I can’t imagine the beds in prison being comfortable.”

I glanced up at Prakash, who turned to the door, his eyes burning with hatred. If Prakash had family in England, the police would have released him into their custody while he awaited being charged. But he was utterly reliant on Mrs. Benazir, the woman entrusted to be his guardian. And she’d let him languish in that place, using the excuse of needing the Board of Governors’ clearance.

“Out of my way,” said Mrs. Benazir. “Or—”

“Or you’ll do what?” asked Sebastian.

A silence stretched out for several moments. Prakash’s rapid heartbeat pounded against the hand I’d left on his chest.

“She wants to expel me,” he whispered.

Resting my head on his shoulder, I wrapped my arms around his middle and murmured. “Don’t let her in. If she sees me in your bedroom, she’ll use that as an excuse to get rid of you.”

“Listen,” said Leopold. “My mother is on the Board of Governors, and I’ve kept her apprised of all the developments at the school. Bruce Wilmington attacked Ashley. No-one else.”

“You shouldn’t have let an expelled student return as a cleaner,” said Sebastian.

Behind the door, Mrs. Benazir spluttered. “I didn’t—”

“How thoroughly do you check the backgrounds of new staff?” Sebastian asked. “Some of them have access to our bedrooms.”

“I’d say you have bigger issues than a student returning from a juvenile detention center,” added Leopold.

I wrapped my arms tighter around Prakash, closed my eyes, and inhaled his bergamot scent. The kings were right. She needed to focus on fixing student behavior and the security breaches and stop harassing a boy who just wanted to sleep.

“Fine,” she snarled. “But I want to see him tomorrow in my office.”

“We’ll deliver him personally,” said Sebastian.

Prakash and I exhaled long sighs of relief.

“She’s gone,” Leopold whispered through the door. “But we’ll stay alert in case she returns with a key.”