Page 20 of Cruel Games

I rolled my eyes. “As long as you keep getting my name wrong, Maxi pad.”

Orlando snorted with laughter, and Kendrick huffed out an annoyed breath. I glowered at the silent twin. He didn’t even like me.

Why had Kendrick come along for this half-assed ambush? To pick up a few crumbs in case his asshole brother and friend managed to gaslight me into slobbering over their dicks?

“A word of advice, dickheads.” I strolled down the hallway, passing Kendrick and daring then to come at me from behind. “Stay out of my way.”

“Or what?” said Maxwell.

“You don’t want to know.” I raised my hand and waved over my shoulder. “Later, bitches.”

*

One evening before dinner, Gideon followed me back to my room. I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering if this was another attempt to mold me into a posh-talking gentlewoman.

It had been a week since I’d joined the academy, and he was the only person outside the staff who actually instigated conversations with me.

“What’s up?” I said as I let him into my room.

“I want to know how you’re doing in your classes,” he asked. “Are there any you like best?”

Warmth spread through my chest. “Fashion and Textiles is better than my wildest dreams.”

His brows rose. “Really? Why’s that?”

I told him all about my plans to study at the London College of Fashion and start my own label. Gideon sat on the edge of my bed, resting his palms on the mattress.

His gaze wandered to my wardrobe. “Have you made anything yet?”

“Have I?” I flung the wardrobe open and pulled out a backless mini-dress I’d made with ruffled skirts. “Did you know materials are included in the tuition here?”

He chuckled. “One would think so given the amount our parents pay.”

“Are your mum and dad rich, then?” My brows drew together.

“Comfortable by British standards. Father is an executive in Shell Nigeria.”

“Oil’s big business down there, isn’t it?”

He nodded.

“What does your mum do?”

“She’s a doctor.”

“Wow.” My insides twisted with trepidation. Any second now, he’d ask me what my parents did. I wasn’t in the mood to tell him I didn’t know the identity of my real dad. Mother lived off the proceeds of crime, a far cry from a doctor.

I snatched a halter-neck waistcoat from the wardrobe and shoved it in his face. “This is based on one of my designs. What do you think?”

His eyes widened. “I didn’t realize you were already designing clothes.”

Pride swelled in my chest. “It’s all about the pattern cutting, you see. Fashion’s not all pretty drawings—”

Someone knocked on the door.

“Hold on!” I rushed to the door and opened it a crack.

One of the admin staff, a dark-haired woman, said, “The headmaster wishes to see you in his office.”