Clutching the trophy, I feel my heart race as the Idol boys exchange looks. There are no fancy videos or cans of paint or panties to throw, but at least I got them here. At least I did it. That is, if they choose to tell the truth. One lie from one boy could sink me right now.

“It’s true,” Zayd says, nostrils flaring. He stands up from his spot on the chair and addresses the room. “I’m here as her date.”

“So am I,” Creed drawls, watching me clutch that trophy with a certain sort of acceptance in his blue eyes. Miranda makes a squeaking sound, drawing her brother’s attention. They share one of those silent twin looks, and I exhale sharply.

I figured … the Idols would be pissed off.

Zayd and Creed, at least, don’t seem to be at all.

“I’m done hurting her,” Zayd says, his voice so loud it echoes through the cavernous room. Becky is gaping at him, but he doesn’t seem to give a shit. “Sorry, but I quit the game. I won’t do it anymore. Let Marnye have the trophy and leave her the fuck alone.”

Harper’s jaw clenches as she turns to Tristan.

“I’m your fiancée,” she says carefully, stepping close to him and taking hold of the lapels of his wool coat. “And I’ve got William on speed dial. So tell me, Tristan, are you here with me tonight … or with her?” The leader of the Bluebloods looks from Harper to me, his gray eyes burning.

“You know I’ve never been a faithful boyfriend,” Tristan muses absently, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Not to anyone but Lizzie.” He looks past Harper and straight at me. “I’m here with Marnye, too. So whatever stupid shit you bet her, give it up. You’ve lost.”

A slow easy smile works its way across Creed’s face as he steps up beside me and Andrew scrambles desperately to get out of his way. Miranda is still gaping, and Zack is still frowning. Me, I’m just hugging the trophy and trying to figure out if this is a dream. It’s working out well, almost too well. The only thing is … the Idol boys don’t seem to care that I’m trying to exact revenge on them. It’s like it doesn’t even matter to them at all. Or … maybe it does matter, but in a different way than I’d expected?

“You’re joking?” Harper scoffs as she glances back at Becky and Ileana before turning to me. “What the fuck did you do? Do you have a magic freaking vagina or something?” The crowd murmurs, and I frown.

“If I had sex with them or not is irrelevant,” I snap, clinging to the trophy and feeling like I’ve just aged ten years in five minutes. “They’re here, with me, and that’s that. You have to take care of my dad at your family’s medical center. And sorry, I won’t be groveling at your feet, so you can film it and post in on YouTube.” A ripple works its way through the crowd, and I see Creed’s blue eyes widen.

“You … made a bet for your father’s cancer treatments?” he asks mildly, and I nod.

“So, you started treating the man, threatened to stop doing it, and then somehow cornered Marnye into a bet you thought you couldn’t lose?” Zayd clarifies, and he sounds pissed, his rockstar voice rumbling with a slight growl. “Jesus, Harper, you’re even more fucked up than the rest of us.”

“I didn’t corner her: she came to me,” Harper chokes, turning to Tristan. “All I was trying to do was get rid of her. It’s what we’ve been trying to do all along.”

“I think I’ll have a drink,” Tristan says mildly, ignoring his fiancée completely. “Soda for you, Marnye?”

“Please,” I whisper, and the crowd parts as Tristan turns and heads over to the drink table. They leave a clear path for him to walk back and hand the cup with its clinking ice cubes over to me.

“This is …” Harper starts, but the crowd’s already moved on. Infinity Club bets happen all the time. They saw a winner chosen, and now they’re over it. The only person who’s still obsessing is Harper du Pont. “She invited all three of you. She thinks you’re in love with her.”

“Maybe we are? Who the fuck are you to judge?” Zayd snaps, rising to his feet. He towers over Harper, and I get a small surge of pleasure as she backs up. “Marnye won, Infinity Club rules. Now move on and get over it.” He pushes her back with a finger to her shoulder, and she lets out one of her trademark screeches before turning and stomping away.

For a moment, I just stand there, shaking. And then I take my drink, my trophy, and my emotions, and I race up to my room and slam the door.

Miranda, Zack, and Andrew check on me, but I just need some time to process. I can’t decide if I’m upset that the guys aren’t emotionally wrecked the way I was … or relieved. And then … I feel so lost, like I have no idea what to do now.

After I’ve had some time to process, I dig around in my bags for some sweats, suddenly desperate to change out of this itchy dress, and realize that I’ve left my other bag in the car. Careful to avoid the crowd, I slip out the back door and past the gazebo where Harper and her cronies are drinking and complaining loudly about me.

Screw them.

I head over to the Lamborghini, unlock it, and grab my bag.

When I turn around, John Hannibal, Gregory Van Horn, and Harper du Pont are waiting for me with most of the other Bluebloods in tow.

“Get her,” Harper says, and I don’t even have time to scream before Greg is clamping a hand over my mouth and yanking me against his chest.

No fucking way, I think as they drag me across the lot, flailing and kicking and clawing at Greg’s hand. When John and that new guy, Ben, step in and each grab onto my legs, I know I’m in serious, serious trouble.

They take me around the back of the house and over to the funicular, shuffling us all inside, and pressing the button that’ll take us down to the beach. Under any other circumstances, I’d be excited to ride in this thing. As of right now, I’m terrified.

We hit the beach and immediately go for the dock, loading up on one of the boats and heading out to the lake. Dozens of other students are already out there, partying on different boats. Harper chooses a spot right in the middle of Lake Tahoe, and has Sai throw the anchor over.

We’re on the top deck now with nothing but a few lanterns and some white twinkle lights to brighten up the darkness.

Harper stares down at me, and then smiles.

“I think … we should start off the night seeing what a Working Girl can really do,” she begins, nodding her chin in Greg’s direction. His laughter is disturbing and dark as he and the other boys push me down to the deck and pin me with my legs spread wide.

That’s when it really hits me that this is happening.

They’re going to try and rape me.

I try to scream, but I can barely breathe past Greg’s hand. Immediately, my flight or fight instincts kick in, and I begin to flail. But when the boys have trouble holding me down, they just pile on a few more Bluebloods until there are six people holding me hostage.

John gives over the holding of my leg to Mayleen, and then moves over like he’s planning on kneeling down between my legs.

That’s when I hear the sputter of a small engine, and the creak of a ladder before Zack Brooks appears over the edge. He doesn’t hesitate before he throws himself at John, taking the other boy by complete surprise. A fight breaks out, and even with John, Greg, and Ben all attacking him at once, Zack stands his ground.

Now that there are less people holding me down, I fight even harder, dislodging Mayleen and kicking one of the kerosene lanterns. It breaks and then plunges over the edge, fire trailing along the spilled oil. Flames begin to lick at the side of the boat, and in quick succession, the other lanterns go up, too.

The Bluebloods holding me down drag me over to the ladder and basically toss me down to the lower deck. I hit with a grunt, just before Ileana grabs me by the hair, and some of the other girls get hold of my arms and legs. Even though I’m kicking and screaming, and flames are licking at the side of the boat, nobody notices or cares. The lake is vast, and there are plenty of bonfires on the beach, stereo systems blasting music, and screaming teenagers. I’m just a drop in a bucket.

Another small yacht has pulled up alongside the one we’re on, and the girls drag me over.

I’m once again manhandled up to the top deck and shoved into a chair, ropes wrapped around my wrists and ankles.

Harper is panting and looking from me to the other boat where Zack is still fighting with his fists.

“Keep her here until everyone else shows up,” Harper snaps at Becky, and I’m guessing she must have Pleb friends on the way, seeing as almost every Blueblood save Myron Talbot is here. “I’m done with this girl; this shit ends tonight.”

Harper storms over to me, and I spit at her. Her palm quickly comes up and cracks me across the face.

“What is wrong with you?!” I scream back, but like I said, I’m pretty sure she’s a sociopath or a psychopath or what the hell ever. Tonight, I beat her at her own game. She doesn’t like that. Not one bit.

“Break her fingers.” Harper snaps this order at her cronies, and then leans down to get in my face. “You will never, and I mean never play the harp again. How do you feel about that, you little bitch?”

“How do you feel about my boot up your ass?” Zayd says, appearing at the top of the ladder. He’s bleeding from the edge of his mouth, but he looks okay otherwise. He’s followed by Tristan, Creed, and Miranda.

Harper sneers at them as Zayd unties me and pulls me up, dragging us to the opposite side of the boat, so Tristan and Creed can help create a human shield around me. The rest of the Bluebloods come up the ladder, creating a divide in the center of the yacht. Zack is the last one up, and he ends up trapped behind them on the opposite side.

There are flames dancing across the water.

How that happened, I have no idea. One minute, we were struggling on Harper’s boat, and the next, the lantern was being knocked over and kerosene was spilling everywhere. How it got on the actual surface of the lake, I don’t know.