Page 90 of Play The Game

What the actual fuck is she talking about?

I tense and Harley cuts me a look. He knows I’ve finished all of the damned assignments already and this just means more fucking work for me. This bitch. Ugh.

“We’re going to discuss personal history, because that’s what all of this is really about. Sometimes I think, as scholars, we can forget that in every battle and in every significant moment in history, it’s all centered on people. Living, breathing human beings. So, shall we discuss some of our own history?”

Fuck that with a cactus. I’m not discussing shit with her or any other rich kid in this class. A few hands raise and some girl starts spouting on about how her family got richer than God, a great opportunity for the narcissists to talk about how great they are.

I relax a little in my chair and let my mind mull over all of the plans I have going on.

“Miss Anderson, would you like to share with the class?”

I meet her eyes and the smug smile is fucking infuriating. “No, thank you.”

The other students all giggle and whisper to each other, like I’m some poor little Mounty girl to pity and poke fun at, but I ignore them all. The whispers will never end at Hannaford, no matter who my real family now is.

“I’m sorry, I worded that incorrectly. Miss Anderson, please share something about your own personal history.”

I glare at her, flirting with danger because fuck it, and say, “My personal history is I grew up in Mounts Bay, worked my ass off to get a scholarship to come here, and now I’m at the top of every class because, again, I work my ass off.”

She steps around her desk and stares at me, shaking her head. “That language shows your poor breeding. However I think it’s commendable; most babies born addicted to heroin don’t fare so well in the IQ lottery.”

The breath leaks out of my lungs as the giggling starts up again.

This cunt—yeah, I said it—this fucking cunt has looked up my medical history.

I’m proud of my steady tone when I reply, “What can I say, I’m a fucking lucky girl.”

She smirks again. “You weren’t so lucky when you broke your leg. How did that happen?”

I lean back in my seat and cross my arms. Harley finally snaps and says, “None of your fucking business.”

Ms. Vivienne glances over at him, all doe-eyed again, and says, “Now, now, Mr. Arbour. Don’t let the crass language of the Mounts Bay local rub off on you.”

He smirks at her. “Maybe while you were digging your fat nose into your student’s private files you should’ve looked at mine as well. I grew up in the Bay with Lips. So fuck off.”

Avery giggles and the sound slices through the whispers happening around us. Ms. Vivienne looks ready to argue with us when Ash joins in the fray.

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to bleed you out. Slowly.”

Blaise snorts with laughter and calls out, “Shit, Beaumont never threatens pussy. You’re really something special, Ms. Whore.”

He looks back and winks at me. I’m still too stunned at Ash’s words to react. Ms. Vivienne is about the same.

I watch as Ash pulls his phone out and hits play on a video he has recorded. The obscene sounds of moaning and grunting start playing.

“Oh, Ms. Vivienne, I don’t see any of your high society breeding here while you’re being fucked over a table by Mr. Trevelen. What does his wife think of this? The alive one I mean, not the one who’s mysteriously ‘disappeared’.”

The whispers turn into giggling and catcalls. Ms. Vivienne’s teeth clench and she takes a single step toward Ash before he stops her with a look.

He taps on the screen again and the moaning changes. “Does Trevelen know you’re fucking Sebastien Steele? Does Sebastien know you’re fucking his dad? And his uncle, both of whom are on the school board. Isn’t that against the corruption clause? Something about keeping your dick out of school business? Hmm. Well. Maybe I should start sending these out.”

“No—”

Every phone in the classroom buzzes. “Too fucking late.”

Ms. Vivienne’s eyes narrow at him, but she keeps her head held high, which is stupid. She’s lost what little credibility she had in the classroom and now every student is sitting there whispering and giggling at her. Ash leans back in his chair, arms crossed, and I know he’s got his signature smug smirk across his mouth. Avery glances back at me and smiles, winking.

“Mr. Beaumont, that is a gross invasion⁠—”