Page 229 of Depraved Boys

“The knights are getting too powerful,” Leopold said over his rhubarb crumble.

“That’s because we’ve been too preoccupied to rule the academy.” Sebastian put down his fork and stared at Geraldine and Barrett’s table.

“Sorry, guys,” said Prakash.

Sebastian shook his head. “We survived this shit last year with Corrine’s accusations. Once they’ve dropped the charges, we’ll be back on top.”

I broke open my chocolate bomb, releasing a torrent of molten sauce. The first taste was an explosion of cocoa that filled my heart with joy. This was the first time I’d been able to enjoy it without welling up about the times I’d spent dipping bars of chocolate into cups of tea with Mom.

Resting my forearms on the dining table, I asked, “How did you regain your positions last year?”

“Mostly by holding court in the common room,” said Leopold. “The royal seats are in the middle, giving everyone a prime view of our splendid selves.”

My lips curled into a smile. “On anyone else, I’d say that was arrogance.”

He swept his arms down the muscles bulging through his bottle-green blazer. “But on me, you know it’s a true assessment of our magnificence.”

Afterward, we walked up to the attic, where most students liked to retire after dinner. The sounds of televisions blared through the hallways, some of them coming from the various common rooms, and others from smaller rooms specifically set up to play the terrestrial channels.

The royal seats consisted of two leather sofas positioned opposite each other around an oak coffee table. Elegant, brass floor lamps stood on each side, providing soft illumination.

I took a seat between Prakash and Sebastian, while Leopold shouldered off his blazer and stretched out on the sofa opposite.

He cracked an eye open. “If you ever get bored of holding hands with those wankers, you can always sit on me.”

My cheeks heated, and a warm tingle shot between my legs. That face-sitting scene had been hot, and Leopold wasn’t making anything easier for me with his leering.

“Don’t you mean, sit with him?” asked Prakash.

Sebastian snorted. “Believe me, Leo meant to say ‘on.’”

Prakash turned to me with his brows raised as though to ask whether I really did that with Leopold. I clapped a hand over my mouth to cover a giggle, but instead of speaking, his face fell and then morphed into a scowl.

I twisted in my seat to find Bianca standing over me with a bruised eye. My stomach plummeted as my mind skittered back to the conversation I’d had with her father. What I’d told him had been the truth. Bianca had left an enormous sum of money on my bed while I was out of the room, which got stolen or burnt.

My chest tightened, making my breaths shallow. The old me might have covered up for Bianca and Ashley’s actions, knowing that Mr. Byrd would turn his anger to me, but those two had hurt me numerous times and in numerous ways.

“I need to talk to you,” Bianca said in a small voice.

Hardening my heart, I said, “If it’s to shove me down the stairs again, don’t bother. I already made a report to the police naming you as the culprit. It won’t take a forensic examiner to work out who did it the next time it happens.”

She huffed out a breath. “It’s important, or are you too busy being smug to care?”

Despite what I had told myself, guilt wrapped its claws around my heart and twisted. I glanced at the bulge in her blazer, which likely contained a contract.

An exhausted breath eased out of my lungs. This was so fucked up. Mr. Byrd hurt Bianca, and she lashed out on girls she considered more fortunate than her. “I wouldn’t wish your predicament on anyone.”

“Then help me.” She reached into her inside pocket.

“But I also can’t sign a document that would render anything I reported to the police null and void.”

For a moment, she said nothing. Her eyes darted from Prakash to Sebastian, and then to Leopold, who sat up and stared at her with the most intense of looks.

Her lips curled into a snarl, and she bared her teeth. “You’re a self-righteous bitch. You know that?”

I shook my head. “If you ever want to make a complaint to the police, I’ll back you all the way and give them my witness statement. Otherwise, I’m not interested in engaging with you. Ever.”

“You fat—”