Rich Boys vs. Poor Boys (The Cruel Kings of Castle Hill Academy, Book 1) by Devon Hartford kd103

by Hartford, Devon

  (Please don’t hit me! Ow! I didn’t do anything!)

  (Did too, dummy! Did! WHACK! Too! WHACK!)

  (Leave me alone! Somebody help me! Help! Please!)

  (You get back here, pig shit! WHACK! Stand still and take it like a lady! WHACK!)

  I wish Gladys had taught me how to fight. The only thing she taught me was how to run away.

  “Something wrong?” Rob asks.

  “Nothing,” I shake my head, my eyes watering. I sniff, “You were saying? About learning how to fight with Skill and them?”

  He nods, “Me and the boys bonded over fighting. Became blood brothers. Vowed to always have each others backs, to always be there to catch each other if we fell. That’s what we’ve been doing since we ran away.”

  “You too?! I ran away from foster care! That’s how I ended up in juvi!”

  “Happens to the best of us,” he winks. He reaches into his pocket. “Oh, I keep forgetting to give this to you. I never have a chance on campus.” He hands me a knife.

  I gasp, “Grayson’s knife! You remembered!”

  “How could I forget?” he chuckles. “You wanted to stab me with it the day we met.”

  “I never thought I’d get it back.” I’m tearing up as I throw my arms around him and hug him tight. I hardly have any possessions to my name, but the few I do, like this knife, mean the world to me.

  “Use it the next time any Rich Girls try to lock you up.”

  “I can’t do that! I’ll get thrown in jail for assault with a deadly weapon!” I’m laughing but it’s true.

  “I didn’t say stab them,” he chuckles. “Just scare them.”

  “I’ll still get in trouble! You know how Castle Hill works. The Fundies get away with murder and we get the shaft for every little thing.”

  “Don’t worry, Mary.” Rob puts both his big hands on my comparatively tiny shoulders. “No matter what happens, if you fall, I’ll always be there to catch you.”

  “What if you can’t?”

  “I will.”

  “No, I mean, what if I get caught or blamed for having a knife or whatever, and I get hauled away? It could happen, you know. It’s not like you’re Prince and you can tell the faculty what to do. Wait, can you?”

  “No. Me and the boys may have money, but we don’t have the kind of power and influence he does at Castle Hill. Not yet, anyway. We’re working on it.”

  “See?”

  He sighs, “Do you not want the knife?”

  “No-a, it’s just, I don’t know.” I stare at Grayson’s blade, torn about what to do with it. “I’m assuming you stole it from Mr. Ralston or whoever?”

  He nods. “I can put it back if you want. Nobody’ll ever know it was gone.”

  “Maybe you better.” I offer it to him reluctantly. He reaches out to take it. Before he can, a series of images flash through my mind, starting with me running away on Dwight’s Kawasaki and ending with Ms. Skelter forcing me to shave my pink mohawk. I’m never living under anyone’s oppressive thumb. I snap my fingers closed over Grayson’s knife. “No. I’m keeping it.”

  Rob’s mouth eases into a wide smile. “Don’t worry, Mary. If anything happens, I’ll take the fall for you. Just don’t stab anyone,” he grins.

  “I’ll try. But if they push me into another iron maiden, I’ll cut them all into one big fillet of bitch sandwich.” Laughing, I flick the blade open with my thumb and wave it menacingly.

  He laughs too.

  I grin and close the blade before slipping it into my pocket.

  He sighs, “If you stick with me, Mary, I won’t ever let anything bad happen to you.”

  “Stick with you? Like one of your blood brothers?”

  “Something like that,” he says mysteriously, his mahogany eyes glimmering.

  I’m speechless. What Rob has shown me today, and the things he’s done in the months since I met him, are simply put, incredible. It’s exciting to be around Prince and his money, sure, but Rob is something special. I can’t put it into words. I’ve never met anyone like him, and I’m pretty sure I’ll never meet anyone else like him as long as I live. It’s like we have this special, magical, timeless connection. I can feel it. Like we’re destined for each other. Not blood brothers.

  Blood lovers.

  Saying it sounds stupid, almost morbid, like we’re vampires, which we’re not. We’re just two living, breathing regular people. But it feels like so much more than that. I can’t explain it, but I feel it in my heart, this connection of ours. It’s so beautiful, so complete, it’s frightening and almost painful, but in a good way, like the hurting only happens when we’re apart. When we’re together, it’s ecstasy. I’ve felt distant hints of this with other boys, but never with the power and intensity I’m feeling for Rob right now.

  Does he feel it too?

  I search his eyes.

  If he’s attracted to me, if he’s feeling anything at all, he isn’t sending any signals. But that night I spent cuddling with him in his bedroom in the Monastery? On Halloween? When we were in bed together then it was unforgettable. I still feel the imprint of Rob’s body burned into mine like he never left. Like he entered me then and our souls rejoined after an eternity of separation and recombined for an eternity of union. It sounds crazy, but it’s what I felt then and feel now. He had to have felt it too.

  And you know what?

  After the Silicones locked me in the iron maiden, Rob really was there to catch me when I fell. I have complete faith he’ll be there the next time and the next. I don’t know why, but that’s what my heart is telling me.

  Rob says in his deep singer’s voice, “Whaddaya say, Mary? You want to help us take Prince’s family’s money and use it to help the people who actually need it?”

  I wince. My feelings for Rob aside, he’s asking me to spy on Prince for the express purpose of stealing his money. Part of me wants to say yes to anything Rob asks me because I trust him. The other part doesn’t want to harm people for any reason, even those who might deserve it.

  I bite my lower lip, “Erm, can I think on it? I’m supposed to go to the winter formal with Prince tonight. Can I decide after? This is all so much, you know?”

  “Will this help you make up your mind?”

  “Will what help?” I titter, confused.

  Rob lunges at me and throws me onto the motorcycle seat. My feet kick up in surprise and I wrap my legs around his waist to keep from falling over backward onto the ground. Rob hooks an arm around my waist and jerks me toward him, leaning in for a kiss and stealing it with ease.

  My arms wrap gently around his muscled neck. His lips are exquisite, claiming my mouth with his, taking full ownership, his tongue slipping and sliding in time with mine, owning every cell in my body with an overwhelming rush of electric energy that spins out from my heart and joins with his, an endless eternal connection that sizzles my nipples and lights a fire between my thighs, drenching everything.

  “I’m in,” I gasp, pulling his hips into mine.

  Chapter 43

  I’m out of breath after running from the Plant Services building where Rob dropped me off. I’m running late and Prince is probably wondering where I am. He told me to be ready to go at five o’clock and it’s ten minutes past.

  I burst from the elevator and dash down the hall to Prince’s penthouse. He’s opening the door while I’m digging out the key card he gave me.

  “Marianne! What happened?” He grabs me by the arms and looks me over. “Are you okay? I was getting very worried.”

  “I’m fine,” I sigh, trying to catch my breath while thinking of an excuse. I’ve got nothing. My mind is swimming with thoughts of kissing Rob. “It’s, erm, I need to get ready.” I push past him, barely noticing he’s dressed up in a tuxedo, and march to the guest bedroom.

  My dress is standing on a dress form and the designer’s assistant from the other day is sitting in a chair by the window swiping through his phone looking bored.

  “Sorry I’m la
te,” I say. “Maurice, right?”

  He nods.

  “I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

  “Not to worry, darling,” Maurice smiles, sliding his phone into the pocket of his black and white checkerboard blazer. A red pocket scarf matches his red slacks, and his checkerboard shoes matches his jacket. He offers me a flirty wink, “Lateness is a sign of greatness, I always say.”

  “I like the sound of that,” I laugh.

  “It’s what I tell all my boyfriends,” he whispers conspiratorially and waves a dismissive hand. “What can I say? I’m worth it and you are too.”

  I notice a sharply dressed young woman sitting in the other chair next to a stack of cute little matching cases.

  “Hi,” I say. “Who’re you?”

  “I’m Claire. I’m here to do your hair and makeup.”

  “Oh. Erm, do we have enough time?”

  Behind me, Prince says, “Barely.”

  I spin around and finally look at him.

  His black tuxedo coat has tails. His satin vest and bowtie are white gold to match my dress. His black shoes shine with a mirror finish. The stunning outfit only accentuates his surfer good looks.

  Prince says, “You have twenty minutes to turn her from a pauper into a princess.”

  “That’s not enough time!” I blurt. “I need a shower! I’m totally gross!”

  He grins, “That is a literal impossibility, fairest. Under the worst of circumstances you are nothing short of stunning. Your beauty outshines the stars above. It shines so bright, not even the sun itself can behold your exquisite perfection, lest he be dazzled into jaw-dropping awe.”

  “He?” I snort. “Shouldn’t the sun be a she?”

  Claire smirks in feminine solidarity.

  Prince strokes a finger under my chin and lifts my eyes to his. “The sun shines for thee and thee alone, fairest Marianne. No maiden sun could look upon you without petty jealousy darkening her starfire and plunging the entire world into eternal night. No, fairest, the sun of our solar system was born to shine his light on you and you alone. Now that you have arrived, he shines ever brighter.”

  My entire body flutters with butterflies.

  I am ready to swoon.

  From the looks of Claire, I think she just did.

  Maurice titters to himself, “I don’t know about you all, but after that, I’m wet.”

  “Wait,” I snicker, realizing something. “Prince, are you saying I’m responsible for global warming?”

  “No,” he chuckles, “but the mere sight of you on the day of your arrival here at Castle Hill did indeed melt the glacier encasing my heart and brought it beating back to life.”

  I grin, “Does that mean I get a few extra minutes to shower?”

  “Make it quick,” he winks and claps his hands with authority. “Chop-chop, everyone! Fairest and I have a formal to attend!” He closes the guest bedroom door on his way out.

  I dash in and out of the shower so fast the water barely hits my skin. After toweling off and jumping into bra and panties, Claire makes quick work of my short hair, teasing it and freezing it into a mess of sexy spikes. Short on time, for makeup we settle on giving me smoky eyes and vampy lips.

  Maurice says, “Now strip so we can get you in this dress.”

  I do as ordered until I’m down to my underwear.

  “The bra too,” Maurice says.

  “Oh, right.” I feel a moment’s hesitation before taking it off. Maurice doesn’t even notice when I do. I’m sure he’s seen more boobs in the flesh working in fashion than most straight men see in their lifetimes.

  It doesn’t take long to get the dress on and I step into my heels, which I picked out the other day. Maurice and Claire hustle me out to the living room where Prince is waiting.

  He stands there like a fashion model. When he sees me his lips widen into a sly grin and he says, “Perfection.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” I deflect.

  “Can you help me with my boutonniere?”

  “Sure.” It takes me a few fumbling tries to pin it to his lapel.

  He slips my matching corsage onto my wrist.

  “It’s beautiful,” I sigh, admiring it. Never in my life did I think I’d be going to a winter formal or any sort of high school prom, let alone wearing a runway ready dress and going with one of the hottest young men on campus.

  Maurice and Claire both insist on taking pictures for their look books. Maurice jokes about selling his photos to Vogue or Cosmo.

  Prince grins, “If they don’t start a bidding war, let me know and I’ll make sure they do.”

  “Stop,” I smile.

  “I mean it, fairest. You look that good. Doesn’t she look incredible?” He looks to Maurice and Claire.

  They gush agreement because they’re paid to.

  I know better, but I appreciate it all the same.

  “Shall we?” He offers his elbow.

  “We shall,” I sigh, doing my damnedest to focus on the now and not what Rob said and I read online about the Lancaster family earlier. “Oh wait! I forgot something!”

  I rush back to the guest bedroom and fish Grayson’s knife out of my jeans. Where to put it? Under my corsage. The knife is light and has a clip that slips around the elastic wristband of the corsage. You can’t even tell it’s there.

  With any luck, I won’t have any reason to use Grayson’s knife tonight.

  <(—)>

  On our way past the Convent, I see a line of girls coming out wearing long-sleeve white lace above-the-knee dresses with jewel necklines. The lace detail and cut of the hem make them look like snowflakes. Their hair is done and so is their makeup. They all have the same white lace gloves, cute little white lace hairpiece, and matching low white kitten heels clacking the paving tiles on the walkway.

  I recognize Luna from the salon and say, “Where are you guys going?”

  “The winter formal,” Luna says with a frustrated smile.

  “Who’re your dates? The work-study boys? Are they around here somewhere?”

  Luna shakes her head and purses her lips. “We don’t have dates. We’re working it.”

  “I’ll say,” I grin. “You look savage in that dress.”

  “No, I mean we’re working working it. We’re waitressing.”

  “Oh,” I say guiltily. That’s when I notice the other work-study girls giving me dirty looks and grumbling about it. I grimace when I see one of them is Azzie, aka Elizabeth Morgan-Hearst.

  She’s going?

  I thought she’d died.

  Too bad.

  I’ll have to watch out for her. If she’s a waitress, she might try and poison my food and drink or whatever. I check her fingernails for a fancy manicure like Elizabeth has, but I can’t tell with her gloves. Not that it matters. I know they’re the same person.

  After walking a short distance, Prince pulls me away from the girls. They head toward the stairs that lead down to the parking garage. I notice a small group of Fundy boys and girls dressed in tuxes and gowns for the formal waiting for an elevator. There are several. The work-study girls don’t wait for them. They shuffle down the stairs, their shoes echoing off the subterranean concrete as they go.

  As always, the Fundies get the luxury option, and the work-study kids get the low-rent option.

  “Aren’t we taking your car?” I ask.

  “The Bugatti?” Prince prompts.

  I nod.

  “Not tonight,” he smiles. “I thought you might like something more comfortable.” He leads me past the administration buildings to the huge roundabout and visitor parking area at the front of the school.

  I see a line of white limousines and a couple charter buses filling the parking lot and backed up down the hill. “It’s like everyone at the academy is going. This is crazy,” I marvel.

  “Winter formal always is. Our limo is around here somewhere.”

  “We’re taking a limo?” I laugh. “I’ve never been in one!”

&nbs
p; “First dance, first limo ride, what other firsts might you find waiting for you tonight?” Prince grins.

  “I don’t know,” I laugh guiltily, partially because I notice a group of work-study boys lining up and boarding one of the charter buses. They wear white tuxedos and looking rather annoyed. I don’t notice Rob or the other three Poor Boys among them. They’re hard to miss.

  We stop at a white limo and there’s a guy in a white tuxedo and gloves waiting by the back door. “Mr. Lancaster,” he says and opens the door.

  “Thank you, Thomas,” Prince says and motions for me to climb in the limo. “After you, fairest Marianne.” He takes my hand and helps me in.

  “Thanks.” My dress isn’t exactly movement friendly. Prince and Thomas have to help me pull the train into the limo, which is an entire production, but we manage.

  Prince slides in after. Thomas closes the door and shortly after, we’re creeping along past the limos and buses. I notice the work-study girls sitting in the windows of one bus looking decidedly unhappy and just a little bit pouty about it. We’re supposed to have our Saturday nights free. Erm, I mean they, because I’m not working, am I?

  I notice our limo has a sunroof and I feel like I should be opening it and standing in it so I can cheer about how epic tonight is going to be, but I don’t want to rub it in the noses of the work-study kids.

  So I sigh instead.

  “Something wrong?” Prince asks, squeezing my hand.

  “Nope, everything’s perfect.”

  “It is from where I’m sitting,” he grins, his blue eyes flashing and his sandalwood and cedar scent teasing my nose. “I’d kiss you but I don’t want to ruin your makeup.”

  “Yeah,” I sigh, thanking my makeup for ruining the moment.

  “We’ll make up for it later.”

  “Yeah,” I practically whisper. If my mood doesn’t change soon, there won’t be a later. The mirror shine of every girl’s dream come true princess ball is already starting to show cracks, and we haven’t even left the parking lot.

  “There they are,” Prince says, eyes lighting up. “Stop the limo, Thomas.”

  “Yes, sir,” Thomas says from up front through the little open compartment window.