Page 9 of Cruel Games

Mr. Burgh pushed open one of the doors and stepped into a stone entranceway with arched wooden ceilings. A pair of tall, iron lamps lit the space, which led to a wide set of stairs of the same kind of stone, then a huge arch that led to another stone hallway.

“Who owns this place?” My feet echoed on the hard floors. This didn’t look or feel like any government institution I’d ever seen in Richley. It was more like something retained by the crown.

“It’s a private school owned by Lord Liddell,” replied the headmaster. “The current incumbent of the title is also the Archbishop of Scotland, who barely gets involved in the day-to-day running of the academy.”

“Oh.”

We ascended the short staircase and turned right, nearly bumping into a matronly-looking woman whose gray hair fell out of her bun. Her glasses hung off a string of pearls and bounced on her ample chest.

“Mr. Burgh,” she said in a shrill voice. “Where have you been? No one has seen you since breakfast!”

I pressed my lips together, trying to suppress a laugh. The headmaster’s cheeks pinked, and he squirmed under her withering gaze. If she hadn’t addressed him by his title, I would have thought they were married.

“Mrs. Campbell, may I introduce you to Miss Del—” He squeezed his eyes shut as though trying to remember what I preferred to be called. “Miss Lilah Hancock.”

Mrs. Campbell’s hazel eyes swept down the entire length of my body, lips pursing with disapproval. “You’re out of uniform.”

Biting back a sarcastic reply, I turned to the headmaster and raised my brows. No way would I make enemies with a battle-ax on my first day.

He cleared his throat and strode down the hallway faster than a daddy-long-legs skittering down a drain. “Please arrange a room and a set of uniforms. Miss Hancock will join us in year six.”

“What?” she screeched, bustling after him at a jog. “You can’t just dump a new student on me and rush off.”

Trailing after the bizarre pair, I wondered what on earth was going on. I’d assumed that Mother had arranged my place at the school after she’d discovered the police had arrested me for attempted murder. Or when she had learned about Billy’s release date. Now it looked like everything had been arranged at the last minute.

The chime of a single bell filled my ears. Doors opened, and students spilled out into the hallways. The girls wore red and black tartan skirts with black blazers and ties in the same tartan. Some of the little ones wore pinafores, and the youngest boys wore short, tartan pants.

“Dinner!” a blond boy who looked about eleven jumped on his friend’s back.

“Wilson,” snapped a black girl who had woven red, tartan ribbon into her long braids. She was about fifteen and had a small, golden shield on her blazer. “That’s one demerit for violence.”

“Adewale!” he whined.

She crooked a finger at the blond boy, who followed her through the crowds. I rubbed my chin, wondering whether they caned students in academies like Templar. As I looked for signs of Mrs. Campbell and the headmaster, my gaze locked on the most arresting sight.

A trio of boys stood out among the crowd. Each wore a black blazer with the school tie and a matching, tartan waistcoat. But it wasn’t their uniforms that made my heart reverberate in my chest. It was their sheer presence.

The only way I could describe them was a stud sandwich — two identical, dark-haired boys with a dishwater blond in the middle.

A mix of blood roaring through my ears and my pounding pulse muffled all the hallway noise, leaving me with my rasping breaths for company. I wasn’t the type that got swayed by a handsome face. At least I didn’t think I was. But I’d never seen such stunning twins and a third whose coloring complemented theirs.

The closer I got, the more differences I noticed between the twins. Piercings glinted from the ears, nose, brow, and bottom lip of the one on the right, while the left one was au naturel.

Blondie gave the right twin a nudge and said something into his ear. All three boys’ gazes locked on mine, and the pierced twin’s full lips stretched into a wicked smile that made my nipples tighten.

My hand crept up to my reddening cheeks. What was wrong with me? Girls with long-term boyfriends shouldn’t notice sexy guys. When my fingertips grazed the tender skin around my eye, I shoved my hand down. The old Lilah was committed to Sammy. The new Lilah, the one who had walked in on the rat-bastard shagging her shitty best friend, was single and didn’t give a fuck.

“What do we have here?” purred the pierced twin. The chandelier lights made his silver eyes glow.

Blinking rapidly, I swung my gaze to the boy on the far left, whose eyes were a natural gray. With a frown, I looked back at his brother. Either all the piercings had cast silver reflections on his eyes, or he wore contacts.

“Yes, we’re twins,” he continued. “Have you ever wanted to see what it was like with two guys?”

My lips parted. At first, nothing came out, then I placed a hand on my hips and said, “I’ve had better.”

The blond boy snickered, and the twin’s grin only widened. “Playing hard to get?”

“Playing hide and seek with the headmaster right now,” I said, glancing over the boys’ shoulders.