The Silver Swan (The Elite King's Club 1)

“Thanks,” I answer dryly, before bringing my eyes to the doors that open out to the boy’s side. A handful of guys push through the doors, talking and laughing with each other. They commanded the atmosphere instantly. Their grins are cocky with self-assurance.

“Who’re they?” I ask, nudging my head toward the group walking toward the garden wall at the far side of the right wing.

“They are trouble,” Tatum mumbles, taking a seat on one of the picnic tables. I watch them closely. They’re all hot, really hot. Tatum turns around, following my line of sight. “And that’s slut trouble,” she mutters, pointing toward the girls who were babbling off earlier in calculus.

“What do you mean by trouble?” I ask, ignoring her reference to the girls and taking my eyes away from the commotion.

“I mean, not only are they advantaged assholes who own this school, and when I say own, I mean literally—at least for Nate anyway. But around here? They call the shots. The students of Riverside Prep are just pawns in their sick and twisted games. They own this school, Madison.”

“You say that like they’re in a gang.” I peel open my yogurt.

“They may as well be,” she replies, opening her carton of juice. “Apparently, they’re members of this super-secret club.” She leans in closer and smiles. “The Elite Kings Club.”

“THE ELITE KINGS CLUB?” I ask, taking a bite out of my sandwich. Jimmy, our cook, made my favorite. Chicken salad with diced tomatoes and chopped lettuce mixed together with mayonnaise. He’s so good at his job that my father uproots and brings him wherever we end up living.

Tatum waves her hand around, rolling her eyes. “They’re like this undercover exclusive club. No one really knows what happens in this club, or who all the members really are, but it has to do with blood and your family lineage, apparently.”

I continue eating my sandwich. The bell rings to signal that break is over once again, so I collect my books from the table.

“What do you have now?” Tatum asks, shoving an apple in her mouth so she can have a free hand to collect her books. I laugh under my breath as she takes the apple out of her mouth. “What?”

I shake my head. “Nothing, and I have PE.”

She scrunches her face. “You do know that was optional, right?”

I nod, helping her pick up her books when I see she’s taking too long. “I like sports.”

We turn to walk back into the girls’ hall, and just when I hit the doorway, something urges me to turn back around.

You know that feeling you get when you can feel someone watching you? Yeah, I had that times seven. When I pause in my step, Tatum halts her yapping about some game that’s happening on Friday night, her eyes going over my shoulder before her face pales and her eyebrows pinch together. I slowly turn back around to look in the cafeteria to find all—seven, there’s seven—boys staring right at me. I scan over each of them, lingering a little too long on the one with messy dark brown hair who’s sitting slouched over a chair. He has wide shoulders and a strong, angular jaw. His eyes continue to summon mine when suddenly I feel as though I’m locked in a trance. Knowing I should pull away, I swallow and turn back around to go to my next class.

“Whoa! Hold up!” Tatum runs up behind me. “What the hell was that about?”

I shrug, pulling out my schedule from my pocket. “They’ve probably heard about my mom.”

Tatum scoffs. “They wouldn’t care about that, I’m sure. That was something else. But hey”—her firm grip on my arm halts my forward momentum—“you don’t want them to notice you, Madison. They’re not good people.”

“Well, seems it’s a little late for that.” I shove past her and carry on toward the back doors that lead to the gym. I’m walking down the long corridor and am about to round the corner into the girls’ locker room when I walk into a rock-hard chest.

“Holy shit,” I whisper, pulling my hand back from his pec. “I’m so sorry.” I look up to honey-brown eyes shaped by thick eyelashes. Pretty boy.

“Hey, no worries.” He collects his duffle bag from the ground before reaching his hand out to me. “Carter. And you must be Madison Montgomery.”

“Great,” I mutter. “You’ve heard all about me.” I drop my eyes to his chest, remembering how hard it felt under my palm.

He chuckles. “Which story?” he teases, winking at me.

I smile at his attempt to lighten up the mood, shaking my head. “I thought this was the girls’ side?”

“The gym is co-ed. How’re you liking your first day?” he asks, leaning against the wall.

“Well,” I begin, my eyes darting around the long corridor, “a little intense.”