“I’m going to stay at that awful B&B again, the haunted one with the bad customer service.”

“They don’t have bad customer service, they just don’t kiss,” I say, feeling an irritational need to defend the Bayside Bed and Breakfast against this spoiled little rich kid. “But the ghost thing, that’s true. In 1902, a woman—” Windsor turns my head just enough that he can lean forward and kiss me over my shoulder, dropping both of his hands to my breasts and squeezing them just hard enough to make me moan.

He moves back suddenly, releasing me and exhaling sharply, like even he wasn’t quite aware of what he was doing.

“Bloody fucking hell, Zack’s right. You start talking historical facts, and it’s just … it must be the passion in your voice.” For once in his life, Windsor sounds a bit startled.

“Wind,” I start, because my heart is aching. I turn around to look at him, and I see it. It’s been there this whole time, from moment one. He’s been my friend since he set foot on the academy campus, but he’s also had a crush on me. A real one. “Are you even allowed to date to peasant girls?”

He raises a red brow and then reaches out to stroke some of my hair back.

“I told you: I’m probably the least obligated boy you’re dating right now. Milady, consider it: marry me.”

“Stop joking around,” I say, slapping him in the chest and sighing. “Even if I were interested in marrying someone, someday, I’m going to college first. Bornstead, if I can.”

“I’ll have my mother write you a recommendation letter,” Windsor says absently, but even though I get really excited at the prospect, I’m not sure I can accept that. No, I want to accomplish this on my own merit. Wind pauses and seems to notice the expression on my face. “Or at the very least, let me help pay for your schooling. Your mind is beyond brilliant, love.” He reaches out and touches a finger to the center of my forehead. “You’ll do great things one day.”

I smile, and then hear the sound of the glass lid on the pot clinking, pushing up from the bed to go and check on it.

After the stew’s done, Windsor and I sit outside with Charlie, and I very casually suggest that the prince stay the rest of the week with us, so we can all go fishing together, and maybe try another round of bowling. Wind says he likes a challenge, right? My dad is boss when it comes to bowling.

Oddly enough, Charlie agrees (although the open door rule still applies), and Wind blends so seamlessly into our little family, that I almost forget I have four other boyfriends waiting for me back at Burberry Prep.

Almost.

Creed and I are sitting in the gazebo in the rear courtyard. He’s studying like crazy, and I’m looking at my revenge list and crossing names off. I’m here in case he needs me, but he’s been trying so much harder lately that I don’t think he’s going to have a problem pulling all As and Bs in his classes.

I am going to whoop your ass, Tristan Vanderbilt, I think as I stare at the names on the notebook paper I stole back from him.

Revenge On The Bluebloods of Burberry Prep

A list by Marnye Reed

The Harpies The Girls: Harper du Pont, Becky Platter, and Ileana Taittinger

The Company Their Cronies: Anna Kirkpatrick, Ebony Peterson, Gregory Van Horn, Abigail Fanning, John Hannibal, Valentina Pitt, Sai Patel, Mayleen Zhang, Jalen Donner, Kiara Xiao, and Ben Thresher

The Plebs

After a moment of careful consideration, I decide to finally cross Plebs off my list. First off, we’ve completely taken over the school and I’m now being worshipped as an Idol. If that doesn’t count as revenge, I don’t know what does. Second, forgiveness is the focus of my journey right now, and I can’t possibly locate all the idiots who dumped condoms on my doorstep or spray-painted insults on my door.

So, I cross that off, and it feels freeing as hell.

I’m also glad to see Greg and John bite the dust. They are gone from Burberry Prep—permanently. And the nude photos that got circulated included both girls and boys from their own group. Talk about a double whammy.

Still, there are a lot of names on that list, and even though they’ve gotten their fair share of just desserts, I’m not crossing them off until they’re either gone, or I no longer perceive them to be a threat.

Harper and Co. is most definitely still a threat.

“Done,” Creed says, pushing his tablet toward me, so I can check his answers.

Every single one is right, and I look up with a grin. He gives me a lazy housecat smile in response, and before I even know what’s-what, I’m in his lap and kissing him like my life depends on it. I’d like to do this every day, please and thank you.

“Hey,” Zayd says, panting as he runs up to us, leaning over and putting his hands on his knees for a moment, so he can catch his breath. He turns his green gaze up to look at the two of us, and a flicker of jealousy shadows his eyes for a moment before he blinks it away. “Thought you guys might want to see some action going down in the front courtyard.”

“What’s happening?” I ask, and Zayd grins and winks.

“Remember what I said about Myron? Well, Tristan sent him sniffing for trouble, and he found some.”

Creed and I exchange a look, and then we’re both standing up and following Zayd into the chapel building, down the hall, and out the front doors toward the courtyard. There’s no crowd when we get there, just a couple of girls and a boy in plainclothes, a pair of drivers loading up their suitcases. It’s not until I get a little bit closer that I recognize the three of them: Anna Kirkpatrick, Ebony Peterson, and Sai Patel.

Tristan is standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, Lizzie beside him (why?!), and Myron on her other side. They all glance over at me as I step up to stand next to Tristan.

“What’s going on?” I ask, my list clutched in hand. No way was I leaving it there for any random Pleb—or more importantly, Harper—to find. Sure, it doesn’t exactly say anything damning, but I still don’t want it to end up in the wrong hands.

“Busted for buying paying others to do their coursework for them,” Myron answers, and I think maybe that’s the first time he’s ever spoken directly to me. “They’re being expelled. Apparently it’s been going on since first year.” He smirks, and I see a darkness in his face that makes Tristan look like a pussycat. I have a feeling, though, that Zayd wasn’t just talking about the guy’s gumshoeing skills when he warned me about him.

Myron Talbot has violence etched into every feature.

I’m guessing the only thing that’s keeping him in check is Tristan Vanderbilt.

“They’re being expelled?” I repeat, and Tristan smiles, glancing over at me.

“Taking out the trash, one bag at a time.” He turns toward me and then reaches down, sliding a finger across my collarbone and stealing my breath away. “Next year, I don’t want you to worry about anything. I’ve still got a ways to go with Harper, but there’s always the summer.”

“It’s not like we can’t finish the list next year,” I say, wrinkling my brow and giving him a look. Tristan puts his hand on the top of my head, ruffles up my hair in a distinctly un-Tristan-like way, and then turns to head for Tower Three. Lizzie trails behind him, giving me a half-smile as she passes, and frankly, I’m relieved to see Myron go with them.

“I don’t like that guy,” Zack says, appearing from the direction of the chapel building with Windsor by his side. Looking at him, I still have a hard time believing that he went down on me, that he slid into me from behind. His brown eyes swing my way, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking about and finds it amusing.

Swallowing hard, I tuck my fingers in the pockets of my blazer and try to act casual.

“Myron?” I ask, and Zack nods.

“Don’t worry about him,” Creed drawls, waving his hand dismissively. “He’s Tristan’s pet. I’d only worry if our illustrious king drops the leash.” He sighs and looks down at me, cocking his head to one side as I lift up my list and stare down at it. Three more names to cross off. Fantastic. “It’s getting dark. Maybe we should collect our stuff and head back to my place to finish up?”

“Right,” Zack growls as Windsor narrows his eyes on both of them. “You just want her to come up to study? I call bullshit.”

“Why don’t you let me and Marnye worry about that?” Creed asks, as Zayd scowls, reaching up to ruffle his hair. It’s sea green again. He dyed it sometime during spring break and showed up with it like that. Pretty sure I squealed and threw my arms around his neck. I’m kind of attached to that color now.