by Sofia Daniel
“I’ll try.”
His lips tightened with annoyance, but I ignored him and stared into a field of long-haired cows with horns that reminded me of the handlebars of a motorcycle.
For the rest of the holiday, Gideon and I worked side-by-side on our assignments. He didn’t want to share any juicy details about his ménage with Francesco and Lachlan, nor did he want to return Lachlan’s calls. I wondered if he had trouble coming to terms with having fucked two guys, but every time I brought up the subject, he clammed up. When he spent New Year’s Eve with Mr. Burgh, Mrs. Campbell and me, I became worried about the state of his relationship with Lachlan.
Kendrick and Orlando visited with more intelligence on Elizabeth, who had been seen at a number of horse races. I could only assume she was trying to recoup her losses after misplacing her winning ticket. Perhaps she had a gambling addiction.
When term started, I was still suspended and banned from setting foot in the academy. As was Maxwell, whose face had mostly healed from Sammy’s fists.
One afternoon, as I was leaving Mr. Burgh’s quarters to take a walk around the grounds, Maxwell jogged through the gates with a huge bunch of snowdrops.
I eyed the bouquet of white flowers, which would look gorgeous on the dining room table. “What do you want?”
“Term’s started, and we’re both suspended. I thought we could spend some time—”
“I don’t even know you.”
Maxwell stared down at me as though I’d developed a third eye. “What?”
“The person I got to know last term was you playing a role, right?”
“Only at first.” He thrust the bouquet at me. “You’ve had ample opportunity to speak to Kendrick. Is he anything like the person you got to know?”
“Your brother’s an arrogant dick who thinks I’m in love with him.”
He suppressed a smile. I wondered if he misconstrued what I said as some kind of admission that I had fallen for him. Or the person he had pretended to be last term. Either way, I wanted to wipe the smugness off his face.
“What are you grinning about?” I snapped. “No one’s in love with you.”
“Lilah.” His gray eyes bore into mine. “What we have is special. You’re not the kind to jump into bed with anyone.”
A cold wind blew through the courtyard, and I clenched my teeth. This was one of those tricky dilemmas. Telling him I’d shag anything with half a cock, and he had just been convenient would be like shooting my reputation in the ass. Besides, the number of times I’d dodged him and Orlando had proven that I was careful of who I fucked.
Failing to produce a clever retort, I slapped him on the arm. “Bugger off.”
He grinned. “Is that an offer?”
“Yeah, you can bugger Orlando.” I turned on my heel.
Maxwell grabbed my arm. “Don’t go.”
“It’s hard not to when you’re holding onto me like King Kong. Let go of me, you gorilla.”
He released his grip and held up the large palm of his free hand. Like that would demonstrate his harmlessness. “How can I prove myself to you?”
“Do you have a time machine?”
His features twisted into a scowl. “Lilah—”
“Hey!” Orlando sprinted down the side of the fence.
“How did he know where to find us?” I muttered. When Maxwell didn’t answer, I said, “You texted him, right?”
“We’re best friends.”
“Is this an ambush?” I asked.
“Of course not,” he said, sounding unsure.
Orlando jogged through the gates, his cheeks red from both the cold and the run. “I paid a couple of fourth years to watch Herbert and Williams.”
“They’re the pair Elizabeth gave the stolen collection money,” added Maxwell.
“What did you discover?” I asked.
“They’re members of the cooking club. Neither of them were at breakfast this morning and spent their time making food for the tuck shop to sell at lunchtime.”
My brows drew together. “So?”
“Herbert and Williams are scholarship students,” said Orlando. “They would have used that cash to buy the ingredients.”
Maxwell and I exchanged confused glances. This really wasn’t a big deal.
Orlando huffed. “It was a spicy, vegetarian curry with cauliflower rice.”
My tongue darted out to lick my lips. The last time I’d been to an Indian restaurant was two weeks before I got stabby with Sammy. Cauliflower rice was zero calories and zero carbs. If spiced properly, I could see it being popular.
I raised both shoulders. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Then why are they refusing to sell any to the boys?” asked Orlando.
Maxwell rubbed his chin. “Now, that’s peculiar.”
“There were a few portions left. Ken and I wanted to buy them, but the boys said it was girls only. One of my spies reported that they took the money over to Elizabeth, who kept most of it to herself.”
“Even if she invested in their venture, it doesn’t make sense that they would do all that work and have her take the profits,” said Orlando.
For the first time since finding Elizabeth’s winning stub, I felt like I had a way to get even. There was more to that curry than its low-calorie content, and I couldn’t wait to uncover Elizabeth’s dirty secret.
My lips broke into a grin. “I’m joining the cooking club.”
Chapter 18
Early the following Monday at the end of my suspension, I wheeled a borrowed case through the academy’s hallway, unlocked the door of my room and glanced around. The cleaners had changed the sheets and given the space a thorough clean, but the yeasty musk of large dogs hung in the air.
Shivers prickled over my skin as memories of Billy Hancock dangling me over his dogs mingled with the sight and feel and smell of that German Shepherd pinning me to the bed. This was no longer my haven. Elizabeth had tainted it with her police raid and planted drugs.
I strode to the sash window and pulled it open. Cold, juniper-scented air swirled into the warm room, chilling the outer layer of my skin.
Next, I strode into the bathroom, plugged the bath, turned on the taps, and poured the rest of my lemon shower gel under the stream of hot water.
If that didn’t get rid of the smell of dogs, I might have to return to Mr. Burgh’s quarters.
Cooking club was on the other side of the academy building in a room next to the kitchens. It was half the size of the dining room with about twelve stainless-steel cooking stations of an electric hob, oven, and worktop. In the middle stood a massive table with its own oven and hob, which I assumed the teacher used for demonstrations. This was so fancy compared to my old school.
A plump woman with a mop of red, orphan-Annie curls approached from the classroom side. “Miss Hancock.” From her creased brow and the way she clasped her hands over her belly, she had likely heard about my arrest. “How may I help you?”
“I’d like to join the cooking club.”
Her shrill laugh grated on my nerves. “What sort of thing would you like to cook?”
My lips tightened. She didn’t have to look at me like I wanted to cook crystal meth.
“Scottish dishes,” I said. “Until recently, I thought I was English, but I’ve just discovered I have a Scottish grandfather who’s a widower, and he mentioned that my grandmother used to make something out of potatoes and flour…”
I let my words hang in the air while calculations ran through her watery, brown eyes. Part of me felt like Elizabeth, invoking my family connections to achieve my ends, but I kicked that part to the curb and reminded it of my mission. I needed to know how those two boys’ and their vegetarian curry connected with Elizabeth’s theft of the collection money.
The teacher’s eyes widened. “Oh, I see. Would you like to be able to make tattie scones?”
“I’m so ignorant of Scottish cuisine that I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Herbert and Williams walked in carrying two bulging shopping bags and took the station furthest away from us both. I slid off the stool and picked up my bag.
“Miss Hancock?” said the teacher, who had introduced herself as Miss Harper. “Please stay close, so I can instruct you on the proper technique.”
“Right,” I snarled. Even if I wanted to ignore her, it would seem odd if I moved halfway across an empty room.
The classroom filled, but Miss Harper ignored everyone else to focus on me. It didn’t matter that I was making what amounted to a potato crepe while the other students created more elaborate dishes.
Her micromanaging gave me the vibe of an over-helpful shop assistant who stuck to a girl’s ass throughout the store to stop her from stealing. Fuming at her over-attentiveness, I rolled the potato-and-flour dough, wanting to ram the rolling pin up her tight ass.
In the few moments where someone approached Miss Harper for help, I turned around to find the boys chopping up ingredients and sprinkling spices from a plastic tub. Every time I tried stepping over to get a better look, Miss Harper would turn her attention away from a needy student to give me an unwanted, helpful tip.
Orlando strolled through the door with a bag of groceries and a lazy grin.
Miss Harper straightened. “Mr. Nevis?”
He raised his bag. “I’m honing my Welsh rarebit recipe.”
With a smile, she waved him to the back of the class. “Off you go.”
Flicking my head in Orlando’s direction, I whispered, “I wouldn’t trust Nevis to make something like that without supervision.”
Miss Harper gave me a condescending smile. “He’ll be fine. It’s an easy enough dish.”
So, Orlando could stroll in saying he wanted to melt cheese on fucking toast, and Miss Harper was up my ass like I was Walter Fucking White? I brushed those thoughts aside. At least one of us could watch Elizabeth’s cooking minions.
For the rest of the evening, I followed her every instruction like a little robot and made a perfect stack of tattie scones. As Miss Harper helped me wrap up a portion into a little gift box, guilt whacked me across my chest. She had only wanted to be helpful, and I’d mistaken it for suspicion. That’s what happened when a girl spent too much of her youth shoplifting.
“Thank you,” I said to the teacher. “Mr. Burgh’s going to love this.”
Her face twisted into one of those grudging smiles. “The headmaster’s a fine man.”
Herbert placed a lid on the vat of curry and left it to simmer while he and his friend turned to chat with Orlando, who offered them a slice of cheese on toast.
Miss Harper left my side to help the other students, and I sagged on my work station. That was the last time I would invoke Mr. Burgh’s name. How could Elizabeth handle all that attention? It was stifling.
At the end of cooking club, I took my packed up scones and thanked Mrs. Harper again for all her help. Orlando waited for me outside.
“Now I’ve seen everything,” he murmured.
“What?”
He sidled up to me and placed a large palm on the small of my back. “I’ve seen you dance, I’ve seen you tease two fellows until their balls turned blue, and I’ve seen you cum. Until now, I haven’t seen you cook.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “It was dark in the nu-jazz room, and you should put those kinds of thoughts out of your mind.”
He snorted. “Where are you going?”
“To put these in Mr. Burgh’s fridge.”
“You’re such a dutiful granddaughter.”
With a haughty sniff, I turned a corner and headed for the entrance. “Unlike some, I value loyalty.”
Orlando didn’t say anything for several moments. We stepped out of the double doors into the wintry night. The moon reflected its silver light on the salt-covered snow littering the driveway, and I hugged the warm container closer to my chest.
He placed an arm around my back and brought me into the heat of his large body.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“The ground doesn’t look salted, and I’m making sure you don’t slip. Unless you have any objections—”
“It’s fine.” It wasn’t like I hated his attention. Orlando was probably the knight I disliked the least, considering he wasn’t the guy I’d fucked or his arrogant doppelgänger. His masculine scent filled my nostrils, reminding me of the night I had let them get me off on the dance floor and then gotten them into trouble with the security guards at Wank.
I shook my head. Why had I thought they would never strike back? “Did you find out anything from those boys?”
“Only that Elizabeth has taken on a group of girls for a personal grooming regime, which involves consuming a special slimming curry.”
I stopped and gaped up at Orlando’s face. “What?”
“It’s unbelievable,” he said. “Elizabeth gives Herbert and Williams the money for ingredients and allows them to keep ten percent of receipts.”
My gaze rose to the stars twinkling down from a cloudless sky. “Why don’t the boys make the curry, cut her out, and keep a hundred percent of the sales?”
“She won’t tell them what’s in her proprietary curry mix.”
“Huh?” I continued walking toward the iron railings surrounding the headmaster’s quarters.
“According to them, it’s an Ayurvedic blend of herbs and spices for raising the metabolism.”
“Is that something to do with yoga?” I stepped through the gates.
Following after me into the courtyard, Orlando shook his head. “A traditional form of Indian medicine. I have an aunt who swears by it.”
I peered up at him. “No one knows what’s in the herbs?”
“Correct.”
“How much is the curry per portion?” I asked.
“A tenner.”
“Ten pounds for a bit of veg cooked up by a pair of untrained boys?” I slipped on a patch of slippery ice.
Orlando grabbed me by the waist and held me upright. “It does seem fishy.”
“How much do you want to bet that one of the ingredients is illegal?”
He stared down at me with a frown. “I don’t think—”
“You were one of the masters of the police raid,” I snapped, pulling myself out of his grip. Despite everything, he still thought Elizabeth wouldn’t stoop to adding something dodgy to the curry mix. “How do you think the sniffer dogs found that package of flour?”
He raised his shoulders. “Like I said, that wasn’t my doing. I only knew at the last minute that she had called the police.”
“Elizabeth must have sprinkled real cocaine or something just as bad over the bag of flour she planted in my room. Without the dogs finding it, the arrest might have fallen flat.”
He shook his head. “We thought she might have gotten it from your stepfather.”
“That’s not his style.” I ascended the steps to the front door. “He wouldn’t want me anywhere near the police where I might exchange information about him to save my own skin.”
“Then who gave her the drugs to sprinkle over the flour?”
“Someone local, probably.” I placed my key in the lock and opened the door, letting out a puff of warm air.
Orlando stepped in after me. “We need a sample of that curry and someone willing to test it.”
“Or a sample of that curry mix.”
“Even better,” he said.
I led the way through the hall and down the stairs that led to the basement. When we reached the kitchen, I placed the scones in the fridge. According to Miss Harper, they were good with both sweet and savory dishes. Afterward, Orlando and I went up the stairs and back down the hallway.
We were about to leave when Orlando placed a hand against the doorframe. “You still owe me a Christmas kiss.”
I tilted my he
ad to the side and let my gaze fall on his full, smiling lips. “Was the one I gave you that unforgettable?”
“Mr. Burgh interrupted us.” He wrapped both arms around my waist and drew me close. “How about it, Lilah? One little kiss goodnight?”
A flock of butterflies took flight in my stomach, knocking my frozen heart off its pedestal. Nothing about the twinkle in Orlando’s hazel eyes said that the kiss would be little. Or that he would stop at one.
I ran my tongue over my bottom lip, reveling in how Orlando tracked the movement with eyes hungry enough to devour me whole.
Would I tell him to fuck off or would I stand on my tiptoes and give him a peck?
Chapter 19
Without meaning to, my hands rose, and I pressed my palms against Orlando’s chest. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to push him away or give his hard pecs a grope. “Why?”
“Why what?” Orlando edged forward, giving me a better handful. His heart beat as rapidly as mine.
“Why should I let you anywhere near me?” The hypocrisy in my words slapped me upside the head like a wet fish, but I wanted him to sweat before I gave in to his advances.
“Because you’re the most exciting girl I’ve ever met.” He pressed a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Because you drive me crazy. Because I want to prove to you that we’re not a bunch of bastards.”
My brows rose. “I had no idea kisses were admissible in the court of Lilah.”
“I could plead my case to the judge’s pussy?”
Arousal surged between my legs. “I’m not fucking you.”
Orlando shook his head. “Just my tongue. Nothing more.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“I’ve never pushed for more in the past, and I won’t this time.” His lips landed on mine in a kiss that sent sparks of pleasure racing to my clit. “Let me worship at the altar of Lilah until you cum all over my face.”
At those words, the muscles of my core clenched. Hard. I’d suffered an outrageous amount of dry spells since breaking up with Sammy, and my lady garden was parched for attention. “If this is a trick—”
