by Sofia Daniel
“What do you want, Emilia?” Edward crooned into my ear. “Will you earn our discretion, or will we tell the school of your treachery?”
Blake’s hand made a slow descent down my belly, and his fingertips skimmed the bare skin under the waistband of my skirt. “We’re waiting.”
Parting my lips, I let Henry slip his finger into my mouth.
“Good girl.” Blake ground his erection into my ass. “Now, suck on it.”
I closed my eyes, wrapped my lips around his finger and lathed at it with my tongue. This was embarrassing but better than being on my knees in front of them, which was exactly what I would have made them do if I’d been in the position of power.
“Keep your eyes open.” Henry pushed the finger further into my mouth.
I glared up into his eyes. The pupils were wide and hungry, bordered by a thin ring of green. Henry’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, reminding me of that evening he knelt in front of me behind the oak tree. His breaths were hard and labored and as fast as the pulse pounding between my legs. He stepped closer, filling my senses with his huge body, his citrus and mint scent.
I drew back and turned my head, so Henry’s finger slipped out from my mouth. Through ragged breaths, I asked, “Is that all you want? To humiliate me?”
“Private humiliation is only part of the bargain,” said Edward. Henry stepped back, giving him the space to stand in front of me and announce, “You’re going to repair our reputations.”
“How?” My brows drew together.
“Blake’s mother has him going to Narcotics Anonymous meetings, in case Rudolph Trommel releases the videos at some point to humiliate the royal family.”
“That’s wrong,” I spat. “How is kissing a boy related to being an addict?”
Edward raised a shoulder. “Mrs. Simpson-West’s answer to everything these days is to accuse Blake of being addicted to drugs.”
“Thanks to you,” said Blake.
“Fine. I’ll go with you to your NA meetings.” It couldn’t be worse than sitting through Mr. Frost’s Latin classes.
“And pose for the press.”
My brows drew together. “Press—”
“Don’t act like you don’t love being in front of the camera,” Henry snapped. “Your pictures with Bachmann are all over the society pages.”
Jerking my head to the side, I pressed my lips together and stared at a small portrait of a knight in armor. One of Edward’s ancestors, I supposed. How could I reply to a comment like that, considering I’d gone along with Sergei’s plan to become his beard? At the time, I had wanted to create a little intrigue about myself, so that when I returned to Mercia Academy, it would be as the confidante and possibly lover of a famous classical pianist, not just the trollop they’d sent away via a gauntlet.
“Fine,” I said with a huffed breath. “I’ll pose with you.”
Edward cupped the side of my cheek. A tender gesture, until he turned my head back so I could look him in the face. His eyes were as blue and stormy and as cold as clouds over the arctic. “Henry’s parents are convinced that he’s gay, and they’re threatening to disown him if he doesn’t produce a suitable girlfriend.” Edward prodded me on the shoulder. “You’re going to be that girl.”
“Why not one of the many sycophants in Elder House like Charlotte?”
“She hasn’t returned,” said Blake.
“I don’t want any of those girls,” said Henry. “Only you.”
A gust of frustration huffed out of my lungs. “You didn’t want me enough to clear my name. Why are you forcing me to be your fake girlfriend?”
His glare hardened. “Who said it would be fake?”
“It would be from my end.”
He stepped forward, green eyes blazing. “Will you do it or not? They’re in Dubai right now, and I need to contact them to arrange a meeting.”
“Alright,” I snapped. Their demands were irritating but nothing I couldn’t handle. I turned to Edward. “What do you want from me, Mercia?”
“Help with a fundraiser to rebuild the academy’s reputation.”
My shoulders drooped. “That’s it?”
He stepped back. “That’s all. You’ll come with me to the next meeting of the Board of Governors, and we’ll present a few ideas.”
I stared after him, head tilting and trying to absorb his every feature. This would be the easiest request of all, but why was his request so unselfish? Keeping the relief out of my features, I made an impatient huff. “Can I go, now?”
“No,” said Henry. “You’re going to provide us with a little entertainment.”
“I’m not sucking anything else.”
He snorted. “You won’t get our cocks until you beg.”
“That’s fine with me,” I snapped.
Henry’s grin turned malevolent. “Next time we have you here, we’ll tease you so badly, you’ll be crying for us to fuck you.”
Chapter 5
At lunchtime, I sat at the head table between Edward and Henry, casting my gaze over the rest of the house. We ate the normal fare of a choice of roasted chicken or pork, served with vegetables, roasted potatoes and stuffing. Student slathered on lashings of gravy from jugs at their tables. I cut my chicken breast and sighed. To everyone else, it looked like I was sitting in my usual spot, but the triumvirate had told me I would spend all my hours in the presence of at least one of them unless I wanted my secret exposed.
Just before the waiters served desert, our housemaster, Mr. Jenkins, strolled into the room and stood on the podium on the far right of the table. The man seemed to have lost weight during the Easter break, as his gray suit hung awkwardly off his shoulders. “Welcome back for another term, Elder House!”
Nobody responded. By now, even the mice in the skirting boards had worked out the man had been shirking his housemaster responsibilities.
In the ensuing silence, I glanced at the table usually occupied by Charlotte and her doppelgängers. Wendy, Patricia, and even Alice sat together, but there was no sign of Charlotte. An intern at the Correspondent had mentioned that the family could no longer afford to pay for her tuition fees, and Blake had confirmed earlier that she wouldn’t return. I rested my chin on my hand and exhaled my relief. That was one person I wouldn’t miss.
Mr. Jenkins’ cheeks pinked, and he cleared his throat. “At the end of the lunch bell, please make your way to the assembly block for a meeting with the Board of Governors.”
“Where’s the headmaster?” Coates, the bulky rugby player with the broken nose and cauliflower ears, stood and ran a hand over his shorn head.
Mr. Jenkins flushed and stepped down from the podium. “I expect the governors will update you on his situation.” As he darted out of the room, he said over his shoulder, “Don’t forget to go to the assembly block after the lunch bell.”
I narrowed my eyes at the retreating man. What was the point of having a housemaster who stayed in his room all day, turned a blind eye to the injustices taking place under his thin nose, and couldn’t discipline students? He was more suited to kindergarteners than sixth-formers.
The servers brought a lattice apple pie and custard. I refused a portion. After breakfast with Sergei and his entourage, followed by coffee on the train, my appetite had dwindled. Not running the gauntlet had been a huge relief, but any member of the triumvirate could command me as he wished, and I wasn’t sure about the extent of their vindictiveness.
Henry called back the server. “She will have desert.” He turned to me and winked. “I don’t want you wasting away to nothing.”
“Why?” I spat. “Because you think my boobs will shrink?”
His gaze flickered down my to top and lingered over my breasts. “I was more thinking about your arse, but I like the boobs, too.”
Edward smirked then turned to Blake and whispered something that made him laugh.
My cheeks burned. How could I have ever become so fond of this pig?
Henry’s hand wrapped around my th
igh and squeezed. “We should hold weekly inspections. Get out the tape measure to make sure you’re staying the same.”
“You’re really enjoying this,” I muttered.
“Not as much as I would enjoy those inspections,” he replied. “Eat up.”
Irritation fizzled through my veins, making the fine hairs on my skin stand on end. What an asshole.
After lunch, the entire house left the dining hall and walked over the lawn to a Georgian building with the usual tall, symmetrical windows divided into panels. Unlike the other blocks around the law, the assembly hall’s oversized porch consisted of a triangular, stone pediment, held up by several columns. It reminded me of the Pantheon.
Edward placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me through the porch into the building’s cool exterior, an auditorium with its seats organized around a stage in tiers of concentric half-circles. Students from all houses, ranging from little first years to upper-sixth formers, filled the hall all the way up to the back row, where huge, arched windows streamed in shafts of afternoon light. On the stage sat twelve men and women, each wearing suits. The one in the middle, who I assumed was the new headmaster, was clad in black, academic robes.
We took our seats close to the back, and I ended up sandwiched between Henry and Blake, with Edward sitting on Blake’s other side. When everyone was settled, one of the teachers played a tune on the piano, and everybody sang what sounded like the academy anthem. Blake gave me a nudge in the ribs, prompting me to move my lips. At the end of the song, the man in the academic robes stepped forward to a podium on the stage.
“Good Afternoon, staff and students of Mercia Academy.”
“Good Afternoon, Mr. Weaver,” everyone chorused back.
I studied the man’s features. Rita had once spoken about him. He taught Classical Greek and was one of the few members of staff who punished the bullies who had tormented her. My brows rose. At least a good guy would be in charge of the academy for once.
After a few introductions and general greetings, Mr. Weaver spoke. “It’s with a heavy heart that I confirm that our former headmaster, Mr. Chaloner, has been charged with money laundering and won’t ever return to Mercia Academy.”
Chatters broke out across the assembly hall, and I leaned forward to catch Edward’s eye, but he stared ahead, a muscle flexing in his jaw. My stomach twisted with trepidation. Was he angry that Mr. Chaloner had left or that the man had even commenced his dangerous venture?
Mr. Weaver raised his hands, indicating he wanted everyone to be silent. When the chatter died down, he continued. “It no longer matters if he is found guilty. If you have followed the articles in the press about International House, you will know that he illegally set up an adjunct to the academy, which made people believe they would receive the premium education available for all legitimate students of our fine establishment.”
I rubbed at my temples. The education here was good, but I would hardly call it premium.
“Until we can find a replacement headteacher, we, the Board of Governors, will run the school with the help of an administrator.”
Noises of uproar spread across the assembly hall. I glanced around. Everyone except for the triumvirate, who had probably heard about this development from Edward, looked pissed.
I leaned into Blake. “What’s the big deal? Chaloner was a hateful crook.”
He slipped a hand between my legs. “If you want to know, you can get down on your knees and suck me off.”
Heat flooded between my legs, and my cheeks warmed. I wrapped my hand around his wrist, trying to wrench his hand off on thigh.
He stayed firm as steel, leaned into me and murmured, “We own you, remember. That means we can do anything we like, and you’ll just take it. Now, part those pretty thighs, or else.”
“You’re an bastard,” I spat.
He nodded. “Perhaps, but I’m the bastard who holds your leash.” He trailed his tongue down the shell of my ear and sucked on my lobe, making my breath hitch. “Do as I say.”
While the head of the Board of Governors explained that they had considered options for the school, including closure, I relaxed my legs and let Blake’s fingers make a slow descent up the inside of my thighs. He used the most delicious of featherlight touches, pausing to rub small circles that made my core twitch.
Blake’s hot breath tickled the side of my neck. “I’m going to stick my fingers in you and make you suck on them. Right in front of the governors.”
I bit down on my lip and stifled a moan. The asshole would do anything to make me cry out and humiliate myself, and the worst part was that I didn’t want him to stop. An ache formed in my core, which built and built the closer his clever fingers reached their destination.
My legs parted a fraction wider, and the pulse between my legs pounded in time with the throbbing of my nub. Blake’s fingers meandered upward at a maddening pace that made slick heat gather between my folds.
“Hurry up,” I whispered between clenched teeth.
A deep chuckle reverberated in his throat, and he leaned over to murmur, “As you wish.”
When his fingertips brushed over my panties and grazed my slit, pleasure rippled through my core, and my nipples tightened. I let out a shuddering breath, loud enough to catch the attention of Henry at my other side.
Henry huffed a laugh, grabbed my wrist, and placed my hand on his crotch.
I gripped his hot, hardening bulge and squeezed. Hard.
He doubled over and groaned, “Oh, fuck!”
Everyone in the auditorium turned in our direction, but Henry composed himself, while Blake slid his hand back and turned to look at the row behind us. Snapping my legs shut, I placed my hands onto my lap and schooled my features into a semblance of innocence.
Mr. Weaver paused in his speech and glared up at the back of the room, where we sat. “Discipline is something else we will review within the academy. It’s my understanding that the previous headmaster allowed the return of expelled students in exchange for donations, but that practice ends now.”
I slid down my seat. He was most likely referring to me and how Rudolph had bribed Mr. Chaloner to allow me back to exact my revenge.
Henry leaned into me and whispered, “You’ll pay for this when we get you in private.”
“I look forward to it,” I whispered back.
Our first class of the afternoon was English Literature. I sat next to Henry, behind Edward and Blake, and behind us sat Coates, that rugby player from earlier, with Duncan, the boy with the thick glasses who seemed to have subscriptions to every British newspaper.
“I say, Coates,” Duncan said in a very loud voice. “Can you believe Bourneville and Simpson-West were having it off with each other?”
I turned around and gave Duncan a sharp look. What the fuck did he think he was saying?
Coates’ thick brows drew together. “What?”
“Have you not seen the photos?” asked Duncan.
I turned to Henry, who froze. It could only mean the stills Rudolph had used to blackmail Mr. and Mrs. Bourneville into returning his million dollars were still floating about on the internet.
“What photos?” asked Coates.
Duncan reached into his pocket. “Here, let me show you.”
“I’d like to see what’s on your phone, too,” I said loud enough to attract Miss Oakley’s attention.
The old woman strode across the room, lips pursed. Her black robes billowed around her like she was an avenging academic. “Who is playing with mobile telephones in my class?”
I gave Duncan a pointed look. “No one, Miss.”
The teacher stretched out her hand. “Give it here.”
Duncan cocked his head to the side and gave me a narrow-eyed stare that asked what the fuck I thought I was doing. In the previous term, we had become friends of sorts, but I couldn’t let him show anyone the stills from the Valentine’s party. He pulled out his smartphone and handed it to Miss Oakley, who walked across the roo
m and placed it in her drawer.
I turned back to Henry and mouthed, “What are you going to do?”
He mouthed back, “I don’t know.”
“What was this photo you wanted to show me?” asked Coates.
Miss Oakley’s shrill voice rang out. “Two demerits each. Silence in class!”
My efforts to quash the photos were futile. By the end of the day, most sixth-formers had seen them, saying they couldn’t believe Henry and Blake were lovers. Alice and the doppelgängers were the biggest distributors of the photos, and they didn’t care who saw them. It was probably their revenge for the triumvirate treating them like they were their own personal conveniences.
Later, Edward and I strolled along the magnolia tree path under a riot of white and pink blossoms. The sweet scent of citrus wafted down from the breeze, reminding me somewhat of Henry. Up ahead stood Elder House in its ancient glory, and I sighed. So far, the triumvirate’s wrath hadn’t been nearly as terrible as I had imagined. It probably helped that they still wanted me back.
A gaggle of girls giggled from behind. I glanced over my shoulder to find Alice and the doppelgängers leading a group of younger, female students. “Did you hear he was also in on the act? That’s why the trio treated girls so badly.”
Patricia sniggered. “They were too much in love with themselves!”
I broke away from Edward, fists clenched. “A few drunken fumbles doesn’t make for a relationship. You should know that by now.”
Patricia’s gaze flickered up and down my form. “What are you? Their beard? With a straight-up-and-down boyish figure like yours, it explains a lot.”
I tilted my head to the side and mirrored her eye movement. “Now that Charlotte’s gone, you look far less voluptuous. Did you stop stuffing your bra with socks?”
“Did I say you had a boyish figure? I meant that you were a boy.” She turned to Wendy, Alice, and the younger students. “Come along, girls. Let’s not chat with boys who bat for the other team.”
