Page 33 of Revenge

My lips quirked into a smile. “Sometimes I have a great evening with one of them, then he says something that reminds me he hasn’t changed and would betray me in a heartbeat if it benefitted them.”

“They seemed like conceited brats to me.”

I giggled into my drink. Andreo had kicked them out of the Royal Academy charity ball and had probably heard an earful of haughty objections. The next time I looked up to survey the guests, I found the three of them on the other side of the room, holding champagne flutes and glaring in my direction. The arrogant fucks probably thought I was responsible for their evening’s entertainment, even though they had invited themselves to the party.

Edward wore a blue frock coat with white breeches, looking like the beast after Belle had broken the curse, and Blake wore the dark tunic and skirt of a gladiator, which showed off his muscular thighs and arms. I couldn’t work out whether Henry had come as a fireman or a stripper dressed as a fireman, as he didn’t wear a shirt under his jacket, revealing prominent pecs and tight abs.

I raised my glass and gave them my widest smile. They mirrored the movement but kept their faces stony, probably in a bad mood because I was still with Sergei.

“How are you doing it?” asked Andreo. “Divide and conquer?”

I shot Sergei an adoring look. “Their friendships are too deep for a tactic like that. I’m getting to know them each and finding out what will hurt them most.”

“Aim for the heart, not the wallet or the reputation. Betrayal from someone you care about hurts the most.”

I gulped a mouthful of lemony tonic water and grimaced. It was as though Andreo could read my mind. Nothing had hurt me more than knowing they had kept me close to secure their secret, never confided the reason why I shouldn’t call the police, and then betrayed me when I did. From what I could glean from our interactions, they still kept me close so I wouldn’t blurt out the truth to Henry’s parents, and because they were fascinated by the idea of a foursome.

So far, only Blake had suffered my wrath and he had emerged from it a little battered but unscathed. Jackie was right. To produce results, I would step up my game.

While I stood by the piano, playing the role of the devoted fiancée, the triumvirate held court on a gold-embroidered, antique sofa held up by ornate, clawed feet. People swarmed around them as though they were the hosts of the party. I glanced around the room for more familiar faces and found Mr. Frost, dressed like Charlie Chaplin, slipping a small envelope to a young man I didn’t recognize. He wore an academy uniform a couple of sizes too small, and I guessed he was one of the alumni who had emailed for an invitation.

Sergei finished playing to loud applause, and another pianist took over. He wrapped both arms around me and murmured, “Since this place is unsafe for us to relax, I will go home.”

“Alright.” I gazed into his dark eyes. “I’ll try to stop by and see you in London before I leave.”

He drew back. “You are going back?”

“My stepfather promised to pay for a school of my choosing if I survived the winter term at Mercia Academy. I want to return to New York.”

He grinned. “You are thriving!”

Sergei gave me another hug goodbye and left with Andreo and his bodyguards. Their absence as a buffer between myself and my task for the evening sent a ripple of anxiety through my gut. The time for pretending to be his adoring fiancée was over. It was time to get results.

A hand slipped around my waist, and Blake’s sandalwood scent engulfed my senses. “Why did he leave?”

I stepped away. “Not here.”

“Where?”

“Follow me.” Without looking at him, I crossed the room, passing the army of fake waiters pressing glasses of champagne into the hands of increasingly drunk guests. Everybody in the room was a sixth former and above the drinking age for the United Kingdom. I had made sure not to hand out invitations to younger students, and Jackie had checked the background of each person who had requested an invitation online.

When I reached the bookshelf, Blake wrapped his arms around the waist of my bodice and murmured, “You look gorgeous tonight.”

My laugh was low and throaty. “I could say the same for you.”

“Why did Bachmann leave?” He peppered my neck with kisses.

A pleasant shudder ran down my spine. “I told you. We’re cooling things off.” I fumbled with the lever of the bookshelf’s secret door. Now was the time for me to get the facts on International House. “Where are the others?”

“Right behind Blake,” said Henry.

“What are you doing?” asked Edward from further down the hallway.

“One second…” I pulled up the lever, and the door clicked open. “Get inside.”

Blake swept past me and turned in a slow circle. Edward joined straight after, and Henry wrapped his arms around my waist and walked me inside. He shut the door with a click and ran his hands up and down my corset.

“We’ve decided,” Henry murmured into my ear. “Tonight’s the night you lose your virginity.”